I cried that first day. Shepard’s mother, Myra, had called me to see if I could collect Tate. She filled me in on what happened, and I headed right on over.
The second I got him home, he wrapped his arms around my waist so tightly and cried as I stroked the back of his hair and kissed his head. Willow wrapped her arms around him and held him just as tightly. ‘She didn’t want me!’ He cried, and my heart broke for that little boy.
‘She didn’t deserve you, Tate,’ I told him. Not that it would be any comfort to him. I knew that, but I also didn’t know what to say to him.
‘She took Nova!’
‘I know, baby, I know.’ I rocked him in my arms and shushed him, all the time telling him how much I loved him and would never leave him. I just wanted him to know that somebody loved him.
It took me an age to calm Tate down. After his shower, Tate sat on the couch with Willow, both of them in PJ’s, his arms wrapped around Willow protectively. He kept telling her how he’d always protect her, how nothing would ever happen to her, and no one would take her from him. It broke my heart, and I sat at my kitchen table crying to myself and wondering why Celia had done this.
She said nothing to me that would have caused me to think she’d leave and take Nova without a word as to why. Celia didn’t give a damn about anybody, but herself and I worried about Nova continuously. Yeah, Celia might have been her mother, but I raised that baby girl. Celia had never had time for her before. I felt Nova’s loss as if she were my child. I loved that little girl, and I felt the pain everyone around me was in, and it tripled my own.
I felt Shepard and Tate's pain at never knowing what happened to Nova. I cried myself to sleep some nights wondering why. I held Willow a little tighter, a little longer every day. I watched as the man I have loved forever crumble under the weight of such a huge loss.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find his little girl. I’ve encouraged him these past two years not to give up. Never to give up. I know in my heart that we will one day find her. No one will give up until she’s home. However, he has to face the fact he needs to try and live his life. Tate needs him. We all need him.
“Hey, Mommy,”
“Hi, baby,” I smile at my little girl from my spot at the kitchen table. I’m trying to organize her birthday party. It’s not for a while yet, not for a few months, but I like to plan her parties in advance, especially as I want them to be special for her.
Twelve.
Jesus, where do the years go?
“You look beautiful today, Mommy.” She tells me while wrapping her arms around my shoulders from behind and kissing my head. My daughter, she may be, but we have a special bond. Best friends as she tells everyone we are.
Beautiful. Willow is always telling me how beautiful she thinks I am, even when I look like crap. I look like crap right now. I’m not wearing anything special today, shorts, and a tank top, nothing on my feet. My little girl is a real confidence booster when I'm feeling down.
“As do you, my princess.” She’s wearing a blue summer dress with flipflops on her little feet, her long hair is tied in a messy ponytail, and she’s always smiling.
She kisses my cheek and then sits beside me, clasping my hand in hers, making me smile. Such is the way of a little girl. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“That’s okay, baby,” I smile. “I do need to get dinner started, though.”
“Is Shepard coming over tonight?” Every night she asks the same thing. She loves him like a father, and it hurts that she’s never had one. She didn't deserve a father that wouldn't even try to love her.
She clings to Shepard because he does love her. It’s written all over his face every time she runs into his arms.
Am I so selfish in wishing he could be mine?
Wishing my baby girl could have a father whom she'd mean everything to?
“I’m not sure, sweetheart. He might be busy.”
“I’ll go ask!” She out the door before I can stop her.
Thirty minutes later, and all four of us are sat at the table, Shepard, Tate, Willow, and me, eating spaghetti. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, to the outside at least, but I feel different after what happened the other night. My heart is beating a little faster with him sat opposite me, looking at me like he wants to eat me alive.
Trying to eat when all I can think about is him fucking me, his mouth on me, his big hands touching me, is bordering on impossible. I feel uncomfortable, and I want the damn night to be over already.
I kind of wish he’d told Willow that he couldn’t make it to dinner tonight. Deep down, I guess, I knew he’d come. He’d do anything for Willow, and I know he hates letting her down. He hates to see the disappointed look on her little face when he tells her that he’s busy. However, things haven’t quite been the same between us since he asked me to dance for him. I don’t know if he feels embarrassed by what said when he was drunk, but he doesn’t need to be.
“Thank you for dinner,” I smile at Tate. Fourteen years old, voice broken, almost six-feet-tall, and already working out with his friend Haiden.
Haiden is Titus’s son, the clubs Sergeant-At-Arms. His wife, Hillary, is a friend of mine, one of my best. Their oldest son, Sam, is a prospect with the club, already going by his road name of Hammer. I’ve always believed it to be in the stars that Tate and Haiden will, as soon as they’re old enough, be part of the club also. It’s in their blood.
I’m not sure if I had a son I’d like the fact he’d want to be a biker. The things those men get up to... It would be every mother’s worst nightmare. Not that I’d be able to stop my son from joining if he wanted to. Not that I’ll be lucky enough to have another ch
ild. I can’t even have a date without Shepard scaring them off with his death threats.
It annoys me sometimes. I’m a woman with needs. This dry spell has lasted, well, longer than it should have. Shepard obviously doesn’t think about that when he’s telling me the next time I say yes to a date, he’ll kill the guy for asking, in the first place.
“You are most welcome,”
“Why don’t you and Dad go have a drink on the porch while Willow and I do the dishes?”
“Sounds like a plan, Son.”
What the hell is that look between my daughter and Tate? They’ve planned something; I just don’t know what yet.
Nevertheless, a glass of wine in my hand, I follow Shepard to the wrap around porch and lean against the wood, breathing in the summer air.
“Think they’re trying to tell us something?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
I drag my long fingernail down the condensation on my wine glass, and I hear Shepard set his bottled beer down on the wicker table just across from us. I try not to look at his ass in those jeans when he bends slightly, but it’s hard not to when he’s so damn fine. Not many men have an ass that tight.
Am I just noticing these things about him because I'm horny?
“Its time we stopped this, Lynette,”
“Excuse me?” Stopped what? Being friends? Is that what he means?