Doc (Ruthless Kings MC #7) - K.L. Savage Page 0,50
“Sorry, Mom. This is Jo. Jo, this is my mom, Rachel.”
My mom gives Jo the biggest fucking smile. Her cheeks turn pink, and if I’m not mistaken, Mom’s eyes water. “Oh my goodness,” Mom says, voice trembling with emotion as she grabs Jo’s hands, minding the bandages. Jo blushes and looks away, unable to meet Mom’s eyes. “Aren’t you just beautiful? Oh, my boy finally found someone. I was so worried he was going to grow old and die alone.”
I scoff, “Well, jeez. Thanks, Mom.”
“What? You’re a brat when it comes to women. Not once have I ever met one of your girlfriends. Not even in high school, college, or medical school. For the longest time, I thought you were gay. You know, I was okay with that too. I was ready for you to bring a man home. Someone, anyone! But time went on, and I realized my boy would only bring someone to meet me if they were special to him.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I’m—” Jo starts to say, but I interrupt her.
“Jo is special. I’ve known that for a while.” Her eyes meet mine as she lifts her head and stares at me over mom’s shoulder. I keep my expression serious and my tone soft. “I didn’t know how to win her over is all.”
“Well, I’m just happy you manned up and brought her here. Gosh, Jo. You are skinny. Does he feed you? Don’t worry, I’ll send you back with some food. Your poor little girl is withering away, Eric.” Mom pops me on the back of the head as she scurries by me. “I taught you better than that.”
“Mom, she eats. I feed her!”
“This ass didn’t come from starving myself, I can tell you that much,” Jo mutters under her breath, and it wasn’t meant to be heard, but Mom turns around, spanning her flowy cardigan to the side as she lifts her arms.
She points a finger at Jo and shakes it. “Those are childbearing hips, young lady. Don’t you be ashamed. You swing those hips. Own them.” Mom rocks her lower body back and forth as if reggae is blaring on the stereo.
I chuckle at Mom’s antics, but Jo’s face is pale.
I know exactly what she’s thinking about. The pregnancy. The pregnancy she doesn’t know she wants. She and I haven’t had the opportunity to dive in and really talk about what happened and see if we can’t jog her memory. I want the name of the person she thinks took advantage of her. I’m going to fucking ruin them when I figure out who they are.
“Anyway, sit down, and I’ll bring you something to drink. Your chicken alfredo is warming now,” Mom informs us as she opens the fridge door and grabs a few Pellegrinos.
I lay my hand on Jo’s lower back and guide her toward the kitchen. Jo plucks her shirt, then rubs her hands down her sides, nervous and feeling underdressed.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, passing the oversized light blue couch in the living room.
Jo doesn’t say anything in return, and my goal is to hear her say thank you one day. Not because I want to be thanked for complimenting her, but because I want her to believe me. I want her to know she’s beautiful. One day she will. I’ll heal her when she thinks she can’t heal anymore. I’ll morph her stitches into scars and transform her insecurities to strengths.
The chair skids across the floor as I pull it out from under the table for Jo. She sits slowly, and for a moment I feel bad for dragging her with me before she was ready, but I wanted her to meet the most important person in the world to me.
My mom is a small woman, skinny; a strong wind would blow her over, but she’s a badass. A protector, fiercer than a lot of men in the club. She’s a ruthless killer, but no one would ever know it because she’s so damn sweet.
“Okay, here we go.” Mom places a warm bowl in front of Jo, then me, and then she sits down with her own.
“I’m sorry I’m not dressed for dinner. I didn’t know I’d be coming.” Jo cuts an accusatory glare at me before stabbing a piece of chicken with the fork. I hear the metal and porcelain bowl clink together, and I wince. She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she yanks the chicken off the fork roughly, probably imagining tearing me