Deep Redemption
Page 120
“I don’t know how to be a son.” I wasn’t sure why that was the first thing that spilled from my lips. But it was.
Ruth sighed and cast me a watery smile. “I do not know how to be a mother.”
I dropped my head, not knowing how the fuck to deal. Suddenly a hand was placed in my free hand—warm and soft and . . . “Mother,” I whispered, fighting to push my words out of my clogged throat. “I have a mother.”
“Yes,” Ruth cried, her hand trembling in mine. “And if you would let me . . . I . . . I would like to know you. I . . . I love you, son. I always have . . . ”
Bella leaned over to Ruth and kissed her on her temple. My wife curled into my side, forever keeping me close, keeping me from breaking.
I sat on the bathroom floor, my hands and heart filled by my wife and my mother. Both good women. Both pure souls . . .
. . . all of us survivors.
Smiler’s words replayed in my mind, and I knew the brother was right. I had to try and live. I had been blessed by pure gifts in my life of impure hell.
Squeezing the hand of my mother, and the hand of my stunning, brave wife, I closed my eyes. And this time as the darkness set in, no horrific images came to mind. Instead a lightness spread through my chest and a warmth lit up my heart.
And despite it all, I smiled.
I smiled and kept my family close . . .
. . . because I was blessed.
So truly fucking blessed.
Chapter Twenty
Bella
Three days later . . .
I threaded the black shirt onto Rider’s arms and pulled it over his still-injured torso. He could dress himself now, but I worried it strained him too much. When I lifted my gaze, his eyes were already on mine. Over the past few days, it had been that way. Like something had changed within him, something that had made him cherish me, adore me . . . accept that I would never leave his side.
It was the truth. I was not going anywhere.
“Are you well?” I asked. I lost the ability to breathe as he leaned forward, capturing my mouth with his own. I closed my eyes as I ran my hands through his recently shorn hair.
He pulled away, and I smiled when he whispered, “Yeah. I’m well.”
“Good.” I placed a kiss on his head.
I moved to gather the few things he needed from the room. This day brought our departure from the Hangmen and resettlement in our new home. When Rider had told me of Styx’s decision, I’d cried. In that moment, all my pent-up emotions fled my body. All the strength that I had forced myself to hold onto fell away.
He was to survive.
I was to live my life with the one I loved.
That was all that mattered.
There was a soft knock at the door. I smiled when I saw Sister Ruth enter. Her timid eyes immediately landed on her son.
Her son.
Even now, as I watched the quiet woman approach Rider, her body racked with nerves, I could barely believe it. Rider met her gaze and a nervous smile spread on his lips.
They were both so broken by their pasts, but desperately trying to fight for a future. As mother and son reunited at last.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. She raised her hand to touch a fading bruise. She faltered mid-movement, but I watched with pride as she kept going and ran her hand gently over Rider’s skin.
Rider swallowed at the brief touch of affection. “I’m feeling better. Happy to be leaving this place.”
Ruth nodded in understanding. Stephen arrived at the door with Solomon and Samson in tow. I wrapped him in a hug. The past couple of weeks had been good for Stephen and my sisters. We had spoken daily, and all grown closer.
I already knew of his kind heart and spirit from my days in Puerto Rico. But knowing he was my father—my blood—made my connection to him even deeper. I could see it was the same for Mae and Maddie too. Mae, like she did with most people, welcomed him into her heart. And as for Maddie, every day she became more comfortable around him. Every day her barriers were crumbling down just that bit more.
I was so proud of them both.
Stephen and Ruth had moved to an apartment that Tank owned just outside of the compound. I had often wondered in Puerto Rico if they were more than friends, but I was assured they were not. I thought that, in a way, Ruth saw Stephen as the older brother she should have had. Stephen had cared for her and given her the love she had needed so desperately in Puerto Rico. They were best friends.
They were our family.
Solomon and Samson had taken the apartment above the garage. They visited the clubhouse often, and not just to see Rider and me. I got the distinct impression that the brothers liked the Hangmen. At least, they liked how they lived. Solomon had confided in me that he found the way the Hangmen lived was not a huge adjustment from their role as guards. The Hangmen seemed quite fond of the brothers too. I could understand that. Solomon and Samson had always been strong, decent men. I was never told what had happened to them to take them to the defectors’ commune, but I understood it was bad. I could see it in their eyes every time they spoke about our former home.
Ruth sighed and cast me a watery smile. “I do not know how to be a mother.”
I dropped my head, not knowing how the fuck to deal. Suddenly a hand was placed in my free hand—warm and soft and . . . “Mother,” I whispered, fighting to push my words out of my clogged throat. “I have a mother.”
“Yes,” Ruth cried, her hand trembling in mine. “And if you would let me . . . I . . . I would like to know you. I . . . I love you, son. I always have . . . ”
Bella leaned over to Ruth and kissed her on her temple. My wife curled into my side, forever keeping me close, keeping me from breaking.
I sat on the bathroom floor, my hands and heart filled by my wife and my mother. Both good women. Both pure souls . . .
. . . all of us survivors.
Smiler’s words replayed in my mind, and I knew the brother was right. I had to try and live. I had been blessed by pure gifts in my life of impure hell.
Squeezing the hand of my mother, and the hand of my stunning, brave wife, I closed my eyes. And this time as the darkness set in, no horrific images came to mind. Instead a lightness spread through my chest and a warmth lit up my heart.
And despite it all, I smiled.
I smiled and kept my family close . . .
. . . because I was blessed.
So truly fucking blessed.
Chapter Twenty
Bella
Three days later . . .
I threaded the black shirt onto Rider’s arms and pulled it over his still-injured torso. He could dress himself now, but I worried it strained him too much. When I lifted my gaze, his eyes were already on mine. Over the past few days, it had been that way. Like something had changed within him, something that had made him cherish me, adore me . . . accept that I would never leave his side.
It was the truth. I was not going anywhere.
“Are you well?” I asked. I lost the ability to breathe as he leaned forward, capturing my mouth with his own. I closed my eyes as I ran my hands through his recently shorn hair.
He pulled away, and I smiled when he whispered, “Yeah. I’m well.”
“Good.” I placed a kiss on his head.
I moved to gather the few things he needed from the room. This day brought our departure from the Hangmen and resettlement in our new home. When Rider had told me of Styx’s decision, I’d cried. In that moment, all my pent-up emotions fled my body. All the strength that I had forced myself to hold onto fell away.
He was to survive.
I was to live my life with the one I loved.
That was all that mattered.
There was a soft knock at the door. I smiled when I saw Sister Ruth enter. Her timid eyes immediately landed on her son.
Her son.
Even now, as I watched the quiet woman approach Rider, her body racked with nerves, I could barely believe it. Rider met her gaze and a nervous smile spread on his lips.
They were both so broken by their pasts, but desperately trying to fight for a future. As mother and son reunited at last.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. She raised her hand to touch a fading bruise. She faltered mid-movement, but I watched with pride as she kept going and ran her hand gently over Rider’s skin.
Rider swallowed at the brief touch of affection. “I’m feeling better. Happy to be leaving this place.”
Ruth nodded in understanding. Stephen arrived at the door with Solomon and Samson in tow. I wrapped him in a hug. The past couple of weeks had been good for Stephen and my sisters. We had spoken daily, and all grown closer.
I already knew of his kind heart and spirit from my days in Puerto Rico. But knowing he was my father—my blood—made my connection to him even deeper. I could see it was the same for Mae and Maddie too. Mae, like she did with most people, welcomed him into her heart. And as for Maddie, every day she became more comfortable around him. Every day her barriers were crumbling down just that bit more.
I was so proud of them both.
Stephen and Ruth had moved to an apartment that Tank owned just outside of the compound. I had often wondered in Puerto Rico if they were more than friends, but I was assured they were not. I thought that, in a way, Ruth saw Stephen as the older brother she should have had. Stephen had cared for her and given her the love she had needed so desperately in Puerto Rico. They were best friends.
They were our family.
Solomon and Samson had taken the apartment above the garage. They visited the clubhouse often, and not just to see Rider and me. I got the distinct impression that the brothers liked the Hangmen. At least, they liked how they lived. Solomon had confided in me that he found the way the Hangmen lived was not a huge adjustment from their role as guards. The Hangmen seemed quite fond of the brothers too. I could understand that. Solomon and Samson had always been strong, decent men. I was never told what had happened to them to take them to the defectors’ commune, but I understood it was bad. I could see it in their eyes every time they spoke about our former home.
