Page 40 of Reaping Havoc
Hannibal carried my newborn son in a carrier and walked behind me. My son stirred, but didn’t cry, like he waited for his mama to wake up.
I couldn’t ride with Cameron and a baby. Just before I had a chance to panic, Zane pulled up with an SUV from our club’s auto shop business. Relieved, I ticked my chin at him in greeting when Jigsaw opened the door and I climbed inside, adjusting with Cameron on the bench.
She wasn’t cold, and she hadn’t turned stiff. That fact alone gave me hope. Was it cruel? Maybe.
But if she was dead, I would have seen signs that she had left me completely.
“I can feel her,” I explained as Zane pulled away from the curb, and the steady thrum of motorcycle engines followed us onto Hwy 95.
“Then maybe she’s not gone,” he responded.
“Iknowshe isn’t.”
The entire ride, I spoke to her, brushed her hair away from her face, and held her hand. Was the warmth slowly fading?Hard to tell. In my mind, it lingered like she fought to stay with me.
When we arrived at The Crossroads, I allowed one of my club brothers to hold her as I exited the vehicle, and then I carried her into the clubhouse. I didn’t bother going to my room. Instead, I took her into the chapel. It was a sacred spot to the club and one that felt right.
Gently, I placed her on the surface, anxious as I asked Zane to find a pillow for her head. Once I placed it beneath her, she appeared as some fictional princess awaiting love’s first kiss—cheesy shit.
But I didn’t care about that. Not if it meant she would wake up, and I could stare into her eyes as I held her.
Someone placed my son beside her, and I unbuckled him, lifting him out as he blinked up at me.
“This is your mama, Liam.”
I lowered him to Cam’s chest, and he began to cry as he smelled her. A part of me felt like she would open her eyes and smile, reaching for our son. It should have happened that way.
It didn’t. Cameron didn’t stir.
Nothing happened for hours. I fed Liam. Changed him. Rocked him. He slept in the carrier.
But I never left that chapel.
“You need to wake up, angel. Liam needs you.”
Fuck.
“I need you, Cam. Come back to me.”
I pleaded. Begged. Bargained with Lucifer.
All to no avail.
In a fit of temper, I shoved my fist into a wall. I only succeeded in scaring Liam. He settled down as I picked him up, trying to soothe my son while my heart was breaking.
“Don’t leave us, Cam. Please.”
The chapel became a revolving door of club members and ol’ ladies trying to help. They took care of Liam, but I refused any offer that extended to me.
I left to use the restroom and ignored the pang of hunger gnawing at my gut. None of this mattered without her. It couldn’t.
A sob left my chest as I lowered my head, and tears dripped onto her arm. “I can’t do this, Cameron. You hear me? I won’t raise him without you.”
Outside the room, the bar was quiet. At three in the morning, most members were in bed.
“Cam,” I begged. “Don’t wake up for me if you don’t want to, but do it for Liam. Please. Come back so we can raise our son.”
He was so tiny. Seven pounds. Twenty inches long. I memorized everything about his birth. He was perfect.
