Merciless Ride (21 page)

My lungs burn with every breath I take. I am pretty sure I have two at least bruised if not broken ribs, and my nose is most definitely broken. Blood fills my mouth as I am sure I lost a back tooth. Once I hear my front door shut, I release the hold I have on Rex.
 

“I’ll stand out here all night and let you take it out on me, but you almost put your hands on the mother of your child tonight, Rex. Tame that shit.” I spit out the blood on the ground beside me.
 

“Fuck you, Shooter! Don’t you dare fuckin’ tell me what to do.”
 

Wrapping my arms around my ribs, I wince in pain. Rex is pacing around my yard now, muttering obscenities.
 

“I know it don’t make a difference, but I planned to tell you. With the war with the Ghosts, though, I wasn’t sure it was the right time. Tessie, she’s been through so much these last few months.”
 

“Shut the fuck up, Shooter. You’re my brother. Dicks before chicks, bastard.”
 

“Listen to yourself. You’re as much a child as the little boy she’s raisin’. Tessie was tryin’ to let you have your life. She thought being a parent, when you weren’t ready, would hold you back. She didn’t want to inconvenience you or disrupt your lifestyle, so she’s been waiting for you to be ready. She’s been waitin’ on you to grow the fuck up.”
 

“That’s my blood running through that boy’s veins and no one told me.”
 

“I know this is a shock. It took me by surprise, too. But you scared your boy tonight, and his mom and I need to clean up. Axel isn’t goin’ anywhere. When you have taken the time to take all this in, we’ll work this out.”
 

“Don’t you blow me off, motherfucker! You should’ve told me.”
 

“It wasn’t my secret to share,” I state honestly.
 

“Fuck you, Shooter. She kept my son from me. You kept my son from me. Brothers no more.” His final words are another punch to my battered soul before he spits at the ground by my feet then goes to his bike and takes off.
 

 

My world stopped spinning the moment I laid eyes on the dirty-blonde haired, mini me. How did I not know? How could she not tell me?
 

Throttle down, I speed down the open road of the night, running from my life. In the blink of an eye, everything has changed for me.
 

The secrets. The years of hiding him. My mind races. I can’t say Tessie has point blank lied to me about her son…
 

Her son. Fuck!
 

Our son.
 

My
son.
 

I have a son. I am a father. Drexel Devon Crews, a dad. Shit, what’s his name? Did she think to give him my name? Is he a Crews?
 

Pops, my grandfather, the man who stepped in as my dad when I didn’t have one—it is his last name both Tripp and I carry. Does my boy carry on our name?
 

Pops would be ashamed.
Treasure your woman when you find her, boys,
he always told us. I didn’t listen. Nope, I have followed my dick around to every hole open to me in North and South Carolina. Yet, I have always found my way back to Tessie. She has been the one person to take me exactly as I am. No matter how many times I disappoint her, fuck around on her, she has always had my back and been there. She has always been my safe place to fall. What have I done? Ruined her, ruined the possibility of us.
 

Worse than that, she needed me and I turned my back on her to fuck with Shooter’s head. I knew he would claim her in that sermon. Why would I step up and give up the freedom of my life, my world, when my brother would step in and be the good guy?
 

Why would she tell me about my son? I have never given her the opportunity to tell me any of her problems. Sure, she has lain in bed with me and listened to me bitch about work or life. She has taken me anyway she could, and I tossed it all away.
 

What have I done to show anyone that I should be a dad? Sure, I am hard working and loyal to my club, but what does Tessie know about that? How can she know about my dedication to all things Hellions when I can’t even talk about ninety percent of it with her?
 

The white lines of the road pass under me as the miles tick by. I am going nowhere fast, both on the road and in my mind.
 

“Be men to be proud of. Actions speak louder than words, boys. When you do wrong, and believe me, you will do more wrong than right some days, you own up to it. Completely. You can’t take back the stone once it’s thrown. The reality is, you can never really right the wrong once it’s done. It will live on forever in one’s memory. You can atone for it. You can work hard to assure you never make the same mistake twice. But there is a time for freedoms and a time for life responsibilities. Be the man to handle his responsibilities. Be the man to take responsibility for his shortcomings and failures. Take pride in being humble enough to admit when you are wrong and when you have failed.”
Pops’s words from a childhood fishing trip play in my head.
 

I have done wrong by my boy. I have done wrong by his mother. If Shooter hadn’t been paying attention—if he hadn’t stopped me—I would have hit the mother of my child, the woman that has raised him completely on her own, all to allow me to have my life without the burden of responsibility.
 

“People will think many things of you. Some true, some complete lies. Their opinions don’t matter. The half-truths, the lies, the many things people will think of you throughout this life should never hold weight. It is what you see in the mirror looking back at you that should tell you the character and the man in which you are. Look in the mirror, boys, and be men to be proud of.”
 

If I looked in a mirror right now, there would be no pride. There would be shame. I let my son down. Tessie had no right to keep him from me, but in my actions I showed her I wasn’t
responsible. She believed I couldn’t or wouldn’t be there for her. I caused that. I have to own my mistakes here.
 

I have to be a better man to raise my boy into a man that can look in the mirror with pride and humility. I have to raise my boy to be the man Pops raised me to be.
 

 

Retribution
 

 

Turning my back to the man that just took a beating because of my secret kills me. Realistically, I need to check on my son. He has never really had a man around. Sure, we visit my grandfather, but it’s not often enough for him to be an influence on Axel. Other than teachers at school, my son has not had a male in his life until Shooter.
 

Shooter, my unexpected hero. My friend. My confidant. The first man to really support me with no agenda. The first man to accept me just as I am, broken and all. He knows my every secret and doesn’t judge me.
 

He wanted to tell Rex; however, out of respect for me and the life I have built for myself, he kept my secret. Rex came here for who knows what and Shooter could have thrown me under the bus. No, instead Shooter let Rex take out his rage on his body.
 

“Momma, who is the man outside?” Axel questions me.
 

I am unprepared to answer. I have parented with the belief that I didn’t need to overwhelm him with explanations. If he was curious enough to ask a question, I would answer it simply and honestly. Only, the answer to this question isn’t as simple as saying ‘that’s your dad.’ I don’t know if Rex will want to be a dad even though he knows about Axel now.
 

“He is someone Mommy knows from work. He is Shooter’s friend.” I extend my arms to my boy for a hug. “Time for bed.”
 

“I want to wait on Shooter to read to me like last night. He does the voices and shit—I mean, and stuff.”  
 

“Axel,” I chastise his language slip up.
 

Shooter tries to catch himself, but he doesn’t always. Kids are like sponges, and Axel adores Shooter, so I know this is part of that.
 

“Sorry, Momma. He makes it really cool, though. Can I please wait for him?”
 

Not knowing how long Shooter will be or how long it will take for him to get cleaned up, I decide I need to get Axel to bed before he comes inside. The last thing my son needs to see tonight is the sight of Shooter banged up. Thank goodness my mom is here.
 

“How about you snuggle buggle with Gigi tonight? I think she misses her special time with you.”
 

“I really wanna have Shooter,” Axel pleads.
 

My son has really bonded with this man. Has he needed this all along? Why isn’t there an instruction manual for this? I feel like I have messed up so much. Was I wrong in keeping my son from having this? Yes, I was, but I can’t confidently say that Rex would give him what Shooter clearly is now.
 

If I had just put my big girl panties on and faced Rex all those years ago, Shooter wouldn’t be a bloody mess right now.
 

“Not tonight. Gigi hasn’t felt well, and I think she needs a pick-me-up that only you can give her.”
 

“Gigi does love cuddles. Will you tell Shooter goodnight for me?”
 

“Sure thing, love,” I reply, smiling sweetly at my son.
 

“Tell him it’s the good cereal for breakfast tomorrow. None of that oatmeal you keep trying to feed us, Momma. We are men; we need more than oatmeal.”
 

I laugh as he takes off to spend time with my mom. Just in the nick of time, too, since Shooter walks in, holding his shirt over his nose to clean up the blood. With his shirt off, I can see his ribs are bruising already, and from what I can see of his face, it’s a swollen mess.
 

Following him into the kitchen, I watch him pull down a first aid kit. Silently, I stare in amazement as he pushes his nose back into place as best he can. I am sure there will be a bump left behind.
 

Walking over, I take the kit out of his hand. He doesn’t speak to me as I begin to run water in the sink.
 

“I’m gonna get a wash cloth. I’ll be right back to clean you up,” I whisper.
 

Dropping the shirt from his hand, he reaches out for me, grabbing my arm gently, and my body comes alive.
 

He is shaking his head at me. “Go to bed, baby. It’s been a long night. We can talk tomorrow. I’ll clean up.” He lets me go and turns to wash the dried blood from his hands.
 

“I’m sorry I brought my mess to your doorstep. Shooter, let me take care of you like you have me.”
 

“Tessie, don’t be sorry; especially not for this. You did what you felt you had to for your son. Rex will figure his shit out in time,” Shooter comforts.