Grinch and Kincaid stayed across the room chatting as if they hadn’t seen each other in years as all of the other patrons closed out their tabs and left.
I asked Rocker for space, and was relieved to see him walk out, Jinx following half an hour after with a girl I didn’t recognize. I should’ve known I wouldn’t ever be fully alone. He didn’t take my request as meaning I need a break from it all, just a break from him.
But I guess I’ll take what I can get. I know no attention from Rocker and Jinx would cause me more stress than the overload of it they’ve forced on me in the last week. I want time to think, but that doesn’t mean I want to be left completely alone. It’s a fine line most days. Last night I went to bed exhausted and extremely aggravated, and when I woke up this morning to the blankets on the opposite side of me once again rumpled, I was livid. Then I went to the kitchen and found the apartment empty. I felt like I was having a mental breakdown when tears began to burn my eyes at being alone because they weren’t happy tears. I was a little heartbroken and loneliness hit me right in the chest.
Of course, they came back from a run less than twenty minutes into my minor meltdown and my mood shifted to the other extreme once again.
I wanted fried eggs and grits smothered in butter and sugar, and they insisted on an egg white omelet with various veggies. I nearly lost my damn mind. Who the fuck puts broccoli in a damn omelet? Psychos that’s who.
I mean, I choked the shit down because I was starving—and I’ll never admit to them it was delicious—but the fact that they’re using small ways like that to control me is driving me nuts.
I want to argue with them, but they say things like, this is better for the baby. Do they not know how shitty they make me feel when they tell me those things? Yeah, they say it without judgment in their tones, but that doesn’t keep me from feeling like I’m already a bad mother. Then I have to question whether they’re still trying to build a case against me to take the baby once it’s born. Are they keeping a logbook?
Sometimes I just want something greasy or sweet or hell maybe I want four ounces of caffeinated coffee instead of a glass of milk like I’m a damn toddler. I looked shit up online, and most things in limited quantities are fine. Hell, although a woman would get crucified here in the States, people in the UK drink the odd glass of wine while they’re pregnant and no one bats a damn eye.
“You look lost in thought. Need some help?”
I look up from the rag I’m swiping over the bar top and find Grinch standing right in front of me. Kincaid lingers a few feet away, but he’s closer than he was when I got lost in the arguments I was having in my head.
“I’m good. Cannon closed you guys out before he left.”
Grinch smiles but doesn’t make a move to leave.
“We’re going to stick around just a little longer if that’s okay with you?”
I look from Grinch to Kincaid who gives me a genuine smile, and I can’t help but nod my head.
Emmalyn mentioned my demon being gone, but I still don’t feel completely safe. One man taught me how easy it was to hurt me, and now I question every man I come in contact with. The guy that grabbed my wrist comes in here often. He’s always given me the creeps, but tonight some of his true colors, which he was never really good at hiding, broke through the flirty veneer. It makes me realize that all it takes is a catalyst of some kind before a man is willing to act so stupidly in public.
The guys looking at me right now don’t bring that same type of fear. Knowing Emmalyn’s story makes me feel closer to Kincaid, and it also has me second-guessing my irritation with Rocker and Jinx.
Good men surround themselves with other good men. They’re less likely to tolerate any form of bullshit, and even if I hadn’t seen their level of loyalty until recently, people around town talk about the integrity of the Cerberus MC with so much awe in their voices,