Blood & Bones: Trip (Blood Fury MC 1)

“Didn’t the fucker have a vest on your kid?”

She closed her eyes and those photos she’d been texted flashed through her mind once again. How happy he was.

“He was wearing one in the pictures. The investigator said it might have been too loose and the strong churn of the water at the dam... ripped it off him, trapping him under water. It wasn’t until the next day they recovered him down river.” She swallowed hard to stop the bile from coming back up. “I had to identify his body, as well as Kellan’s.” She hadn’t been able to stop the bile from rising that day, either.

His death was devastating enough, but identifying her own son was even worse.

She had collapsed that day, too, and even though she hadn’t eaten a thing, her body tried to expel what didn’t exist.

She ended up in bed, barely existing on only air and tears for a week.

She ignored the knocks on the door and the phone calls.

She’d even missed the call from Max Bryson, the Chief of Police for Manning Grove, regretfully informing her that Pete had finally succumbed to his cancer.

Which was why her father had been buried without her. Which was why he’d been buried without his cut.

He also died without knowing his grandson would be waiting for him on the other side.

“Jesus fuck,” Trip muttered as she trailed off.

She hadn’t even been aware she was speaking her thoughts out loud.

He pulled her against him so tightly she had no choice but to burrow into him. She didn’t fight it, she welcomed his heat which engulfed her, the circle of his arms and the weight of his heavy thigh over hers. It all created a comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time.

That dark hole she’d stared into over the last year, suddenly didn’t feel so bottomless and insurmountable.

She hadn’t talked about this with anyone since leaving the Harrisburg area. She’d kept it buried deep inside.

But now she had lifted the lid and released it.

While not quite a relief, it was something.

And like Trip said, something was better than nothing.

Maybe he was fucking right.

Chapter Twelve

He slid a small mountain of scrambled eggs onto the plate next to the toasted buttered bagel and crispy bacon he placed there moments before.

She sat on the stool at the tiny counter, staring at it all. “I can’t eat all that. I’m fine with coffee.”

Trip finished scraping the remainder of the eggs from the pan onto his own plate. “Bullshit. You need to eat.”

“I’ll eat later.”

He dumped the pan into the sink with a clatter and came around the counter to take the other stool. “It’s non-negotiable.”

She put her mug of coffee down with a clunk. “You can’t force me to eat, Trip.”

He cocked one brow at her before shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “The fuck I can’t.”

She fingered the fork which laid next to her full plate, avoiding his gaze.

“Need you to keep your strength up. Got a lot of work to do to turn the bar around.”

“Money is required to turn it around, Trip. In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t have it. I have a feeling you don’t have it, either.”

He didn’t fucking forget. He bit off a piece of sesame seed bagel and chewed it. “Got my first repo job today. That’ll start bringin’ in some scratch.”

“Rob Peter to pay Paul,” she muttered as she picked up her fork and stabbed at the eggs but didn’t put any in her mouth. “How’d you get the license since you did time?”

That reminded him that he never got to tell her what he wanted to tell her. Another time. Soon, though.

“Eat a bite and I’ll tell you.”

She shot him a look but lifted her fork to her mouth.

He waited until she swallowed the bite of eggs, then answered, “Deacon.”

Her brows raised. “You put the business license in Deacon’s name?”

“No choice. Coulda put it in yours if you hadn’t been fightin’.”

“Fighting what?”

“What’s inevitable.”

She put her fork down.

Fuck.

She ran the pad of her index finger along the rim of her coffee mug but said nothing. Which disturbed him more than if she argued.

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Trip,” she whispered, lifting the mug to her lips. When she was done taking a couple sips, she put it down and placed a hand to her lower belly which was once again covered in leggings.

Leggings which he did not approve of since he preferred her in just his T-shirt. However, he had to wear his shirt since as soon as they were done with breakfast and he made sure she ate something, he needed to jet.

Not that he wanted to, he just needed to get his ass in gear to make sure the bar’s debt didn’t swallow him whole, too.

“Wanna explain that?” he said around a whole piece of bacon he’d accordioned into his mouth.