Page 28 of Redeem Me

“Don’t you get lonely?”

“If you’re asking if I miss pussy, sure. If you mean, do I cry every night in my pillow, no, I’m good. Thanks for asking, asshole.”

Tack leaves me to clean up. After a long piss and shoving my face under the faucet, I’m awake enough to track him down in the clubhouse’s kitchen. He gestures toward the coffee and asks if I want fried eggs.

“I might puke them up. I don’t know what the hell I drank last night, but it’s burning my stomach from the inside out.”

“I’ll make you toast.”

Settling at a nearby table, I drink coffee and think about what I told Noble last night. The words are coming back to me.

Tack soon sets my toast and eggs in front of me and then drops into the chair across from mine to eat his own food.

“Bear, screw your head on straight. You’re getting your second chance. You better not blow it. I’m not sure guys like us get third shots at the prize.”

I look at my brother. He showed up months after I was settled in at the farm. As soon as the CPS lady left, Tack started punching everyone. He even swung at Aunt Fred who lifted a cast-iron pan as a shield. When Tack’s fist made contact, he froze from the pain. Staring at her as she peered over the pan, he seemed to get spooked by her calm.

That’s when the asshole took off out the back door. Sync, Pork Chop, and I went running after him. Between us, we pinned the surprisingly strong little shit.

“Do you want pain?” I asked Tack as he fought to break free.

“No!” he hollered like a wild animal.

“Then stop and you’ll be fine.”

Just like that, Tack’s rage clicked off. He stared at my face as if seeing me for the first time.

“I thought I was going to get jumped,” he explained. “Better to go down swinging than to get sucker punched.”

Tack never threw another punch around the farm. Though he still gets plenty rowdy, he saves his fists for the club’s enemies.

I’m so used to spending time with familiar people like Tack. I don’t know the last time I let a new person close. Even Aneta’s someone I’ve known for over a decade.

That’s why I’m not sure how to deal with Natasha. We’ve barely spoken like two normal people. She couldn’t hang around and chat after our sweaty fucks in the clubhouse bedrooms. I don’t know her favorite anything. I considered asking Siobhan, but I didn’t want to act like a high schooler with a crush.

After forcing down the food, I get a shower and grab clean clothes before preparing to leave for the Thibeaux Mansion. Before I go, Tack suggests I act sweet to her kids.

“She’s bound to wonder if you’re dad material. Use their names. Squat down like Sync does with his girls when they’re talking. Try to seem interested, even when they’re boring. Natasha’s never going to forgive you if she thinks you’ll be mean to her kids.”

With that added pressure on my back, I ride to the Thibeaux Mansion. As I wait at a light, I text Siobhan to ask the kids’ names. Since Natasha returned, I hadn’t really considered her children. I only wanted another chance with my dream girl.

In fact, thinking of her kids pisses me off. Why did that other guy get to make babies with my woman? She was promised to me. I’m the victim here.

Realizing I’m about to show up in a snarly mood, I let my mind return to the second time Natasha shared her body with me. I’d been avoiding her all night. She was too beautiful, and I knew I couldn’t keep her.

If I could have taken her out on a date and made shit real, I’d have been on her as soon as she walked through the door. But my ego got burned by the reality of her as Banta City royalty and me as the Syndicate’s muscle.

I didn’t want to get more attached to Natasha by fucking again, so I promised myself to stay clear of her.

Then, I caught her looking at me with sad eyes. My coldness hurt her feelings. Suddenly, I didn’t care if she discarded me. I just wanted to be the guy who made her smile, even if it didn’t last.

I strutted over to where she sat alone. Siobhan was dancing with Carys. Hunter was playing pool with Tack and a few other guys. Natasha sat alone, nursing her hurt feelings.

“Why are you pouting?” I asked, still hoping to keep my dignity intact.

Natasha slid out of the booth and stared up at me. Her sad gaze didn’t warm at the sight of me.

“I was dumb that night we were together,” she said, fighting tears.

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