Page 11 of Grim Justice

I couldn’t be happier now with my son and the man I loved.

“I remember,” Grim answered, poking his head through the doorway as I made our bed. “Plane comes in at two p.m.”

“Yes. Thanks, babe.”

“Of course.” He walked in and kissed me, smacking my ass before he headed out the door. “Love you, angel.”

“Love you more.”

“Impossible.”

A smile stretched across my face as I finished fluffing the pillows on the bed, tackling a basket of laundry next. Creed’s blowout two days earlier caused a massive cleaning spree in his room. Luckily, he didn’t touch many of his toys, just the bedding, wall, and his body. I managed to finish most of the things on my list before my son’s voice spilled through the monitor.

“Mama! I’m up!” Creed announced as I heard him bouncing on his toddler bed.

He was such a good boy. He never left his room when he woke up, even though he could turn knobs and open them. It scared me that he’d try one day, so Grim had installed a deadbolt and a chain on our apartment suite’s door. I latched it at night as a precaution. If Creed ever roamed through the rooms, he couldn’t get hurt. I babyproofed all of them before he was born.

Even Grim kept his things high up and out of reach, using drawers my son couldn’t open. Guns and knives were locked up. We had latches on every cabinet. My son’s curiosity would never place him in danger here.

When I approached his door, I heard him talking. Creed often spoke to himself. Maybe he liked the sound of his voice. His little imagination went wild when he played with his toys. He frequently put his little plastic superheroes to sleep or placed them in timeouts for being naughty. So creative.

I paused, leaning against the wall to listen.

“No. Grrrr.”

That was new. I couldn’t figure out what he meant when he made that growling sound.

Sometimes, he would laugh, and I had no idea what was going on in his little brain or what ideas were forming.

“Grrrr,” he repeated as the bed made squeaking noises. “Sleepy for you.”

When Creed said the wordsleep, it sounded likesep.

“Shhh. You go nigh-night.”

I peeked into the room. Grim decorated it with a motorcycle theme—shocker. He spent a small fortune on the toddler bed, which had wooden side rails painted like a Harley with spinning wheels. Colorful motorcycle-shaped pillows in shades of green, red, and blue had fallen to the floor. The sheets and comforter matched. Creed loved having a bike like Daddy.

He held up his bear and hugged him before placing him in the middle of his bed. “Grrrr.”

Maybe my son was making bear noises. Cute.

I entered his room, and he slid off the mattress, running toward me as I reached down and scooped him into my arms.

“Huggies.”

“Huggies,” I confirmed, squeezing him as he laughed. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes!”

“How about some fruit and oatmeal?”

Creed rubbed his stomach. “Yum!”

I carried him into our little kitchen area and placed him in his booster seat at the table. Once he was secure and had a bowl of Cheerios, I made his fruit and oatmeal. Our morning routine sped by in a blur. We watched a few Scooby-Doo movies and played with his toys. After lunch, I placed him down for a nap.

When I finally dropped into a chair, it was almost two. My eyes slid shut as I yawned. No one ever told me how exhausting it was to be the mother of a young child. Of course, I saw that firsthand with my sister, my best friend Sasha and her son Maverick, and some of the other ol’ ladies and children of club members. Still, until you experienced parenthood yourself, you didn’t have a clue.

I wouldn’t trade this for any amount of money, though. After the miscarriage, I worried I would never have a baby. A lot of sleepless nights and nightmares followed that horrific loss. But now I had Creed, my beautiful boy, and I loved him more than I ever thought possible.

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