Reaper's Fall
Page 81
“That’s good news. And the rest of them?”
“They locked up two others. Talia’s in the wind, nobody knows where. Marsh is pissed—he’s blaming you for what went down, not that it matters.”
“Good riddance.”
“Yeah. Gage is still in Hallies Falls. Helping those who are still left rebuild. Those who are worth keeping, that is . . . There’s been some talk of them patching over as Reapers.”
“Might be for the best,” I said, thinking of Cord and the other brothers who’d been so unhappy under Marsh. “Pipes has filled me in some, but his intel is limited. We’re too far away to stay in touch, you know?”
Puck nodded.
“Well, I got good news, too,” he said. “Pic wanted me to go over it with you, actually. They still have your work hanging in the custom shop, and that guy who talked to you about painting his bike has been in a couple more times. Apparently he’s friends with an art dealer, and he showed him some pictures of your work. They’re interested in doing a gallery show.”
“Huh,” I said, not quite sure what to do with that information. Puck cocked his head.
“Thought you’d be more excited.”
“I am. I mean, I think I am. But I’m not quite sure how it would work . . . Don’t have very many pieces, and it’s not like I can do more from inside. And he knows I’m locked up—I wrote to him already, telling him I’d have to pass on the commission.”
Puck coughed. “This is where it gets weird. I guess you being in prison—you know, hardened felon, motorcycle club, and all that shit—makes you more interesting. Guy says the dealer got off on it, called you dangerous.”
I snorted.
“This crap for real?”
“Apparently. He wants to come see you. Pic got in his face, said we’d reach out to you first. Doesn’t want you treated like some kind of sideshow freak, you know? But it could be money—Mel’s not exactly rolling in it. You start pulling money in, that’ll make a big difference.”
“Do it,” I said shortly.
“Do what?” Mel asked, coming up to us. Izzy was wide awake and alert, and she’d been changed into fresh clothes.
“There’s a guy who wants to put on an art show with some of my work,” I told her. Her eyes widened.
“That’s great news.”
“Maybe. I’m not gonna get too excited until we see how it plays out. Can I hold Izzy again?”
“Sure,” she said. I reached out for the baby, the back of my hand brushing the lower side of her boob. Her eyes flew to mine, and she blinked rapidly. Tears? No, not quite, but her eyes were red and definitely sad. I pulled Izzy close, leaning down to take in her soft, baby smell.
It hit me that after today, I might never experience that smell again. Christ. This was so much worse than I’d ever imagined life could get . . . felt like my guts were being ripped out, every second with her precious and perfect and speeding faster than should be possible.
“Puck, can you give us a minute?” I asked him. He nodded, ambling toward the vending machines. Melanie sat down across the table. I’d been hoping she’d sit next to me, but no luck.
“I already apologized in my letters,” I started. She held up a hand.
“This is hard enough without listening to your justifications,” she said, her voice carefully blank. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m going to be a good daddy.”
“You can’t be,” she replied harshly. “You’re not there and you won’t be for another year and a half.”
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stay calm.
“I realize that,” I said slowly. “But once I get back, that’s going to change.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, I mean it. I’m going to be there for both of you. I promise.”
She looked at me steadily, then glanced around the room. Other families sat at tables, other fathers holding their kids, playing games with them or coloring. Reading stories together.
“How many of them have made those same promises?” she asked, her voice sad. Fuck.
“Words can’t fix this—I get that. But once I’m out, you’ll see for yourself. I’m going to take care of you and Izzy.”
She looked away for long minutes. The baby gurgled again, then stretched her little body, kicking out with her legs. Then Izzy smiled at me and the whole world disappeared.
Yeah, sounds stupid, but it’s the fuckin’ truth.
“I’ll take care of you,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss her soft cheek. “I promise. Your mama doesn’t believe me yet, but I’ll show her. I’ll show both of you. Daddy’s here, baby girl.”
“For now,” Melanie muttered. I didn’t say anything—after all, what the hell could I say?
She was right.
MELANIE
Izzy started crying when we finally pulled away from the prison. The visit had been four hours long, but it felt like forty minutes. That’s how fast it was over. I couldn’t blame her for it either—I felt like crying, too.
“She doing okay?” Puck asked, one big hand draped over the top of the steering wheel.
“Fine,” I said. “Although she’ll probably want to eat soon.”
“I’m hungry, too. We can pull off and grab something on the way back to the hotel. Unless you want to do something while we’re down here? Got some time to kill this afternoon.”
“They locked up two others. Talia’s in the wind, nobody knows where. Marsh is pissed—he’s blaming you for what went down, not that it matters.”
“Good riddance.”
“Yeah. Gage is still in Hallies Falls. Helping those who are still left rebuild. Those who are worth keeping, that is . . . There’s been some talk of them patching over as Reapers.”
“Might be for the best,” I said, thinking of Cord and the other brothers who’d been so unhappy under Marsh. “Pipes has filled me in some, but his intel is limited. We’re too far away to stay in touch, you know?”
Puck nodded.
“Well, I got good news, too,” he said. “Pic wanted me to go over it with you, actually. They still have your work hanging in the custom shop, and that guy who talked to you about painting his bike has been in a couple more times. Apparently he’s friends with an art dealer, and he showed him some pictures of your work. They’re interested in doing a gallery show.”
“Huh,” I said, not quite sure what to do with that information. Puck cocked his head.
“Thought you’d be more excited.”
“I am. I mean, I think I am. But I’m not quite sure how it would work . . . Don’t have very many pieces, and it’s not like I can do more from inside. And he knows I’m locked up—I wrote to him already, telling him I’d have to pass on the commission.”
Puck coughed. “This is where it gets weird. I guess you being in prison—you know, hardened felon, motorcycle club, and all that shit—makes you more interesting. Guy says the dealer got off on it, called you dangerous.”
I snorted.
“This crap for real?”
“Apparently. He wants to come see you. Pic got in his face, said we’d reach out to you first. Doesn’t want you treated like some kind of sideshow freak, you know? But it could be money—Mel’s not exactly rolling in it. You start pulling money in, that’ll make a big difference.”
“Do it,” I said shortly.
“Do what?” Mel asked, coming up to us. Izzy was wide awake and alert, and she’d been changed into fresh clothes.
“There’s a guy who wants to put on an art show with some of my work,” I told her. Her eyes widened.
“That’s great news.”
“Maybe. I’m not gonna get too excited until we see how it plays out. Can I hold Izzy again?”
“Sure,” she said. I reached out for the baby, the back of my hand brushing the lower side of her boob. Her eyes flew to mine, and she blinked rapidly. Tears? No, not quite, but her eyes were red and definitely sad. I pulled Izzy close, leaning down to take in her soft, baby smell.
It hit me that after today, I might never experience that smell again. Christ. This was so much worse than I’d ever imagined life could get . . . felt like my guts were being ripped out, every second with her precious and perfect and speeding faster than should be possible.
“Puck, can you give us a minute?” I asked him. He nodded, ambling toward the vending machines. Melanie sat down across the table. I’d been hoping she’d sit next to me, but no luck.
“I already apologized in my letters,” I started. She held up a hand.
“This is hard enough without listening to your justifications,” she said, her voice carefully blank. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m going to be a good daddy.”
“You can’t be,” she replied harshly. “You’re not there and you won’t be for another year and a half.”
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stay calm.
“I realize that,” I said slowly. “But once I get back, that’s going to change.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, I mean it. I’m going to be there for both of you. I promise.”
She looked at me steadily, then glanced around the room. Other families sat at tables, other fathers holding their kids, playing games with them or coloring. Reading stories together.
“How many of them have made those same promises?” she asked, her voice sad. Fuck.
“Words can’t fix this—I get that. But once I’m out, you’ll see for yourself. I’m going to take care of you and Izzy.”
She looked away for long minutes. The baby gurgled again, then stretched her little body, kicking out with her legs. Then Izzy smiled at me and the whole world disappeared.
Yeah, sounds stupid, but it’s the fuckin’ truth.
“I’ll take care of you,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss her soft cheek. “I promise. Your mama doesn’t believe me yet, but I’ll show her. I’ll show both of you. Daddy’s here, baby girl.”
“For now,” Melanie muttered. I didn’t say anything—after all, what the hell could I say?
She was right.
MELANIE
Izzy started crying when we finally pulled away from the prison. The visit had been four hours long, but it felt like forty minutes. That’s how fast it was over. I couldn’t blame her for it either—I felt like crying, too.
“She doing okay?” Puck asked, one big hand draped over the top of the steering wheel.
“Fine,” I said. “Although she’ll probably want to eat soon.”
“I’m hungry, too. We can pull off and grab something on the way back to the hotel. Unless you want to do something while we’re down here? Got some time to kill this afternoon.”
