Page 47 of Tusk's Fury

A surge of pure joy spreads through me, warming me from the inside out. His words are exactly what I needed to hear. All my insecurities, all the doubts I hadn’t even voiced, fade into the background.

Tusk doesn’t just see me—he sees everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve become. And to him, I’m not less. I’m more.

More than I was before. More than enough.

And for the first time in a long time, I finally believe it.

Chapter 17

Tusk

Last night, I got to meet my daughter for the first time and have wild sex with the woman I love. Life doesn’t get any better than this. Having Brittany back in my life has tilted my whole world back into alignment.

This morning, we all go to the clubhouse to have a relaxing breakfast. Afterward, Brittany and I are going to link up with Zen so she can give him all the information he needs to start tracking Silas Harper and the fundamentalist religious sect she left behind all those years ago.

The prospects bring us coffee and Brittany some juice because she doesn’t want to drink caffeine while she’s breastfeeding. Sunlight shines through the windows, making the normally dimly lit bar area bright and cheerful. Tex, Clara, Brittany, and I are squeezed around a big table.

The scent of coffee is strong, mingling with the aroma of bacon and freshly toasted bread. I stretch and put one arm around Brittany. When she turns to look at me, I flash her my best smile. Across the table, Stephanie sits in a booster seat beside her mother, the picture of polite grace as her good hand carefully puts together a small wooden puzzle her mother brought to keep her occupied. Her brother, Steven, is active in his seat, a bundle of boundless energy. His puzzle has been shoved to the side, untouched. When he reaches forward, Tex moves his hot coffee out of the way and slides his juice box closer so he can reach it. As he sucks on the straw, I see him eyeing the large fish tank across the room.

I joke with Tex, “Best keep an eye on your son. He’s got his eye on that fish tank.”

“I noticed that,” Tex says grimly. “You don’t have to tell me about my own son. Every time I take my eyes off him, he’s into something. Last week, I caught him trying to ride the neighbor’s dog like a fuckin’ horse. Good times, let me tell you.”

Clara laughs. “I had to go out and explain to him that leash laws were for pets, not children. And if he didn’t want his dog playing with our kids, he needed to leash him.”

Just then, Levi walks up. He’s Tex’s teen son, wearing a prospect’s vest and carrying a huge platter of food. “You should buy him a pony, Dad.”

Tex rolls his head back and stares at the ceiling, counting to ten under his breath.

“I’m not joking about that. I loved the pony you got me when I was little.”

“Look, Levi, we lived in Texas and had space for horses. Where am I supposed to put a damn pony—in my pocket?”

Levi flashes him an unrepentant grin. “Miniature ponies make great pets, and you can keep them in your backyard. I bet Stevie would love one. I already priced them out, and you can get one for around a grand.”

Tex just stares at Levi like the teen has lost his mind.

Levi takes a step back and grins, “You don’t even have to get them fitted with horseshoes.”

Tex growls, “Out.”

Levi races off towards the grill laughing, and his friend and fellow prospect, Evan, stops by with plates and flatware. Glancing to my right, he quickly snaps his eyes closed. “Do you… uh… need anything else?”

“Not right now,” I tell him, wondering why he’s acting so weird. I turn to dole out the plates and see Brittany preparing to breastfeed our child. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth when I realize Evan thought he wasn’t supposed to see that. Like anything to do with breasts is top-secret.

Once we’re all settled with food in front of us, I make sure my woman is fed while she nurses our baby. I don’t want her food to get cold. I remember my own mother making sure everything was perfect for us to eat, to the point that I don’t think she ever got to eat her own food warm the whole time I was growing up. I carefully scoop a bit of eggs into her mouth and slowly feed her bacon until she needs more time to chew.

Of course, Stephanie is taking tiny mouthfuls of her warm applesauce, intent on minding her own business. Steven, on the other hand, is kneeling in his seat, turned towards his father. Instead of eating, he reaches out to run his hand reverently down the leather of Tex’s cut, like he’s just noticing it for the first time.

Tex gives him a lopsided grin. “You like leather, don’t you, son?”

The toddler doesn’t answer. Instead, he remains focused on his father’s cut. The fingers of one hand wrap around one of his patches. He tugs, and when it doesn’t come loose, he uses both hands to try to pull it off. Of course, that patch is sewn tight. It ain’t coming off unless someone cuts it off. Steven eventually looks up at his dad with questioning eyes.

Tex explains, “That’s my club patch. It means I’m part of a group of men who ride motorcycles and have each other’s backs.”

Just when I think there’s no way the toddler can wrap his mind around what Tex is telling him, the kid’s eyes drift over to me. I can tell by his expression that he’s putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Either that, or he’s eyeing up my bacon.

I tap the patch on my cut and jerk my chin at him. “Yeah, I’m a club member too. One day, when you’re all grown up, you might be one too.”

---