Page 71 of Sunshine & Sinful

“This is some government-level stalker shit,” Dark growls before wadding up another sheet of white printer paper and throwing it into the same paper bag from his spot on the tooth rug.

I slice down the center of a naked photo, then rip the stapled image from the slat. “Tell me about it… and to think, none of this woulda happened had you not married a psycho bitch.” I peer over my shoulder at my son, brow raised, waitin’ on him to dispute me. He knows I’m right. Fuckin’ bullseye.

Slamming the folder shut, he glares, head cocking to the side. “Can we quit with that shit? Had I not fucked up,you wouldn’t be in the position you are now. You should thank me.”

“Thanking you? Thanking...You?” I scoff and point my knife at another naked shower photo of Kali. One taken from the window in her bathroom. One that would take a ladder and perfect timing to capture. That’s some top-level stalker shit. I step to the side for my kid to see. “Thisis what I should thank you for?”

Scowling in disgust, I then point my blade to the trash bin full of clumpy cum tissues. “This. This is what you want me to thank you for? You think her peace of mind... Her givin’ up her body to a fuckin’ sicko was worth gettin’ her into my bed sooner?” I snarl.

Jaw working, Dark flips me off. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hell it’s not.

“Sounds like it,” I bark. “You sound like a jealous bitch who lost his favorite toy.”

“Fuck you!”

“No. Fuck you.” I rip another image from the wall, crush it in my fist and pitch the damn thing at my son’s head. It smacks him right above his eye, and he hauls up from the floor onto his knees like he’s about to start something. I’d like to see him try.

Opening my stance, I throw my arms wide and urge him to bring it on. When he doesn’t move, I keep talkin’. “I’d give up my life, my happiness, my everything, to make sure she’s good. That she’s whole. That she’s taken care of.” That’s the god’s honest truth. What would Dark give up? Not a damn thing. The man can’t be happy with one woman, so he gets another. Oh. That doesn’t satisfy him… how about a third? Listen, I understand some things were done for the club. In the name of the club. It’s what we signed up for. What he agreed to do. But fucking women and marryin’ them, committing to them, is not the same as a wild night of gettin’ your dick wet.

Pissed off, Dark slaps the file on the floor and reopens it as he resettles on his ass. “You’re the better man. I get it.” His shoulders deflate, and he shakes his head as if he doesn’t wanna do this with me. I don’t wanna do this with him either. I don’t even need him to be here. But he called this morning, wanting to help. I wasn’t gonna say no. Not to him.

“I didn’t say I was better,” I respond and return to work, removing the photos one staple or piece of tape at a time.

“You don’t have to, and it doesn’t matter anyhow. I’m leavin’. When Sola goes, I go.”

I figured as much. When Dark set up her new job, I assumed he was about to dip. That’s how he works. I can’t say I can’t relate because he learned it from me. To keep going. Stay busy. Club first. If he keeps moving, the emotions eating him up inside can’t wreak their havoc. They don’t have time. The longer you pretend they don’t exist and beat them down when they try to rise, the better you are for it. I spent decades livin’ like that. Runnin’ from every emotion. Every consequence.

Then, a beautiful brunette came along, andbam, no more running.

That’s all it takes.

One person.

A soul that speaks directly to yours.

Home.

That’s what she calls it.

And damn if she isn’t mine.

“What about Lily and Abby?” I ask, hoping he has a solid plan to keep them afloat. Not that I won’t step up and help as I always have. They’re family.

Dark shrugs, half-assed. “What about ‘em? Didn’t Kali already tell me to end things? So, I’m ending them.”

“Then what?”

“Does it matter?” he grumbles like a petulant child.

“Yeah. It matters, asshole, ‘cause we love you.”

“I’ve got one woman left. Right?” Dark snorts without humor, shaking his head as he sifts through the loose papers. “Should probably see what’s doin’ with Pen.”

“You wanna do that… with her?” I check, and he pauses a beat to think.

Penelope’s a sexy woman—a powerhouse. But I know my son. Sometimes, I know him better than himself. She’s not what he wants. Not really. The problem is he doesn’t know how to be alone. I blame that on him not havin’ much of a mother figure growin’ up. I did my best to love and be there for him. But a man, a biker no less, runnin’ with a club, doin’ what I do, ain’t the best example of parenting. Who he is, is a reflection of me, and damn if that doesn’t sting sometimes. We wouldn't be where we are if I had given him a more stable, picket-fence life. A little more normal and a little less learnin’ how to dispose of a body.

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