He could have died tonight. Because of my brother," I added. "That puts things into a little perspective, I guess. And he would be dead tonight if you hadn't decided to step in and help out. There's a part of me that doesn't like the biker lifestyle. I'm not going to lie about that."
"I get that, babe. Believe me."
"But I also have come to see that you are all good men. It's quite the internal struggle," I admitted. "I was wondering the other day why the more average women that your brothers are married to decided to get involved with it, to bring kids into it."
"Love." He said it simply, with certainty. "Those men love those women like the shit you see in books and movies. They would do anything for them. And, I think, when you have a love like that, you don't give it up. Because it only comes once in this life.
They would do anything for them.
I hadn't been able to make my high school sweetheart stay with me even though I'd borne him a child.
One guy hadn't called me for a second date because I'd needed to take two phone calls since Jacob was at home sick and my mother wanted to ask me a couple questions.
I couldn't comprehend someone doing things for me. That had never been the life I led.
Except, well, until recently, right?
There was no denying that Colson was doing things for me.
More than any previous man in my life.
This man had literally never seen me at my best. He saw me wrung out from work, stressed over my mom, crying over my son. He'd seen me first thing in the morning with flat hair and sleep in my eyes. He'd seen me lose my mind—and the contents of my stomach—and hadn't wanted to run away screaming.
He'd just scooped me up, taken me home, taken care of me.
"What?" he asked, eyes going quizzical.
I couldn't imagine the looks that must have been passing on my face. But I imagined they mirrored the mix of emotions passing through me in the course of a few short moments.
Confusion, uncertainty, wonder, realization, and whatever the hell that strange warm sensation was across my chest.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I just... this probably sounds crazy considering the circumstances. But it's been nice having you in my life."
"Babe," he said, reaching to put his massive hand over my wrist, squeezing, "it's been nice being in your life. And I think it will get better from here," he added, giving me a smirk.
"Oh, you mean it gets better than a defiant son, a gang member with bad intentions for a brother, kidnapping, torture, and murder? How could it ever be better than that?"
"It's been interesting, that's for sure."
"You know what would make this better?"
"What's that, babe?" he asked, his thumb starting to move across my skin, making goosebumps prickle up.
"If we hadn't left that drawer full of brownies back at the clubhouse," I said, my stomach grumbling.
"It was short of my promise of a lifetime supply anyway."
"It was a start. I am going to go check on my mom," I told him. "Meet this nurse that has been taking care of her. And maybe brush my teeth," I added, grimacing.
"I'm going to go talk to Lo's guy outside. He's going to need to watch from inside my place. The cops will be here eventually."
"Do you have to leave?" I asked, feeling my stomach flip-flop at the idea of talking—lying—to the police without him being there to help take some of the pressure off.
"Yes and no. I will slip out the back when they show up, then come around the front once you let them in. Act like the concerned neighbor I am. That kind of thing."
"Okay good."
"It's going to be alright, babe," he told me, words like a vow.
"I know," I agreed, giving him a small smile before moving upstairs, stopping to do the tooth-brushing thing before seeing my mom for obvious reasons, then going into her room, finding an alert brunette woman sitting in my familiar old armchair in the corner of my mother's room, casually flipping through a gun magazine.
"Oh! Hey! Eva," she said, beaming at me. "I'm Ashley. Or as Mama Dukes here calls me, Anjelica. I am, from what I can gather, a sugar baby whose old man refuses to die and leave me everything."
"Oh, God," I said, laughing. "Anjelica. I haven't thought about her for ages. She used to live in the apartment across the