Page 96 of Where We Promise

Pen continued, “You deserve happiness, Jamie. In any and every way you can get it.”

Staring down at Connor, snuggled against Penelope’s breast, I let her words sink into me.

Pen was right. I was done backing away from what I wanted.

THIRTY

JAMESON

SIX MONTHS AGO

I watched as Luke stumbled in through the club doors, a group of five men behind him. They reeked of weed as they slumped down on the couches and started talking amongst themselves.

“Where’s that pretty wife of yours, Luke? She needs to come get us some fucking food.”

Luke sputtered a laugh before tipping his head back. “She’s not my wife…I’m not marrying her or anyone else. I want to fuck when I want, who I want and how I want. Speaking of…when is Brooklyn and her crew getting here?”

The men laughed, and then they saw me.

“Oh, hey, mister prez, sir.” Mase laughed, digging for a cigarette.

I directed my comment to Luke. “We had church this morning, you were missing.”

Luke waved me off. “We had our own meeting, it was fine.”

It wasn’t fine, and this was the bullshit that was dividing the club. It couldn’t continue on like this.

“What did you discuss in your meeting, Luke?” I crossed my arms, playing along with his little production.

Luke’s head lolled to the side, his eyes were rimmed red and glassy. “We talked about banning Penelope from showing her face around here anymore…tired of seeing her and that bump. She needs to fucking leave.”

The men around him agreed with murmurs and salutes.

“Where the hell is she supposed to go, Luke?”

“Isn’t her mama about to die? Maybe Miles wants to start fucking her instead…can we trade Miles to Sons of Speed or Mayhem Riot?”

I gripped him by the shirt and pulled him off the couch.

“The fuck is wrong with you? That’s your child, Luke…these are people you’ve known your whole life, why are you acting like they’re so disposable?”

He pushed me away, stumbling as he went. “Because they are. All of them. They need to get the fuck out, or I will make them get out. I don’t want to see her, or that fucking belly!”

“Then you leave!” I roared.

He stepped nose to nose with me. “And if I don’t?”

His men started filling in behind him, and how fucking pathetic was it that they were his men? They were supposed to be loyal to me.

I knew this was over. I had to do something drastic, and I had to do it soon.

“She’s carrying your child, Luke. You owe her?—”

Luke spun and grabbed a beer bottle and tossed it against the wall. “I owe her nothing! I told her to get rid of it. She didn’t! That’s not on me. That’s on her. I owe her shit, Jameson. Stop playing the simpering hero and just go fuck her already. It’s painfully obvious that you’ve been dying to, but you’re too chicken shit to do anything about it.”

The words echoed around the room, settling like dust. I wouldn’t dignify it with a response.

“You owe her more than this, Luke,” I muttered quietly before pushing past him and exiting the club.

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