Page 77 of Protector

Ikept one hand on Celia’s shoulder and the other over her eyes, as I led her around the back of the house. “Okay, keep ‘em closed. Shit, watch out for that puddle.”

“I can’t see anything, remember?” Celia noted dryly.

There was so much that I still wanted to show her about the property. Initially, I’d planned on saving the tree for last, but yesterday had changed everything.

Sixteen years later, she was still mine.

It was something I’d never take for granted again.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and dropped my hand. “Open.”

She stared up at the pink flowers spanning the length of the tree limbs before turning back to me. “It’s beautiful. Has it always been here?”

“I planted it.” My voice began to shake, and I cleared my throat before trying again. “When I got sober.”

“Look at you, babe. Biker, gardener, master of Spam. It’s like there’s nothing you can’t do,” she said, running her fingers over the thin bark with a grin.

“It’s just—” I could do this. I just had to say it. “I planted it for the baby.”

“What?” The smile faded, and her hand moved up, covering her mouth and nose.

I nodded, suddenly wondering why it had seemed so important to bring her out here. “Slim saved my life when I wanted out. Reminded me of my purpose, and when I got clean, he was the one who suggested I plant somethin’ so I’d have a place to visit… to pay my respects.”

Celia’s eyes filled, and she began blinking rapidly.

“It didn’t seem right to pretend like it never happened,” I choked, fighting against the tears that I knew were going to fall at any second. Sobering up had turned me into a fucking crybaby.

“It was like there was nothing to prove that he or she had even existed,” she said quietly.

I nodded and swiped a hand over my eyes with a soft chuckle. “For whatever reason, I imagined it was another girl, so I planted this because I wanted to see those bright pink flowers and be reminded of her every time I sat out on the back porch.”

“Jamie—” Celia’s voice broke, and she dug the heel of her hand into the center of her chest, fighting to speak through her tears. “Can you—can you just give me a minute?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded before squeezing her hand. On the walk back to the house, I lit up a cigarette and took long, desperate drags before sinking down into a chair. It took everything in me to stay on the porch as I watched her body shake with sobs.

She knelt against the damp earth and placed her hands on the trunk as if she was praying. Early on, I’d spent my evenings in the same position, apologizing for the choices I’d made and the life I’d chosen to live. I begged for forgiveness and a way to make amends; to salvage what remained of my family.

Sometimes, a confessional wasn’t a fancy box found inside a church. Maybe it was nothing more than a Texas Redbud sitting in the middle of a pecan orchard.

My cell phone vibrated from my pocket, and I pulled it free to see that it was the club. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Got an update on your gangbanger,” Bear said casually.

“He finally decide to give up his friends?”

“Not even after I branded his ass,” he chuckled.

I shook my head and looked up to make sure Celia wasn’t headed toward me before hissing, “You branded him?”

“Yeah, shit gets boring after a few hours. All he wants to do is sleep. Went pokin’ around in some of those abandoned units and found a fuck load of branding irons. Some asshole was into some kinky shit.”

“Bear,” I said slowly. “It ever cross your mind that some asshole might’ve been a rancher?”

“You know, that actually explains the weird as fuck symbols. Anyway, he ain’t gonna be with us much longer, and I know you got shit goin’ on, but thought you’d wanna know. I’d be happy to put him down.”

“I’ll handle it.” I stabbed the cigarette butt into the ashtray and immediately lit up another.

“You got it, boss.” Bear ended the call, and I sat back with a sharp exhale. Things were moving too fast.

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