Page 50 of Wicked

“You’re interrupting the first kind of girl talk I have had in years.” I search his eyes. “This better be important.”

He leans into my ear. “It’s Wolf.”

I look down at the gold Rolex strapped around my wrist, pushing up from my chair. “I’ll be back!”

“You better!” Poppy calls out as I follow Val back through the front of the bar and passing the sea of leather and cigarettes. I feel eyes move with me as I find my way out through the main door. The outside air slaps me across the face like a bucket of water and I pull my phone out of my handbag. The light from the phone burns my retinas as I push call on Mama’s phone and look over my shoulder carefully to make sure no one is following me. “Val, keep an eye out.”

Val nods but looks down. I guess within three seconds of seeing Wicked he knew who Wolf’s father was. And I can’t go into the irony of his father now being a member of Wolf Pack MC.

“Mama!” Wolf’s little voice echoes through my phone and I smile widely, slowly putting distance between the chaos happening in the clubhouse and me.

“Hey! What did Nona make for dinner?” My feet continue to take me forward until I’m staring at a familiar gloss-white Harley. The same one I saw parked beside us at the lights. Closing my eyes in realization, I shake my head softly. Of course. Of fucking course it was him. “Did you eat it all up?”

He snorts through the phone. “I did. And Nona said that this weekend we can put up the Christmas decorations!”

My heart swells in my chest. “Buddy, it’s only November.”

“Annnd?” he asks, dragging out the word.

My smile deepens. “Okay. Then this weekend we will go Christmas shopping.”

“Okay! Good night, Mama!”

“Night, baby.” I hang up my phone and shut the screen off.

“A kid?” Wicked’s voice punches me right in the gut and I jump in shock, spinning around. Shadowed in the darkness of the carport, his outline becomes painfully obvious the harder I blink. A hoodie covering half of his face, he leans against a car, feet crossed at ankles and hands buried in pockets. “Never would have pegged you for the mothering type.”

My heart claws at my ribcage as my blood beats through my ears. “I guess others would think otherwise.” Turning my head over my shoulder, I find the girl he was with earlier near the bar, her arm around Jade. “Married?” He doesn’t answer, so I slowly bring my eyes back to his. I can’t see anything above his nose, and from here, the shadow and outline of his sharp cheekbones and pillowy lips is almost too annoying to see.

“If I said yes, what would you do?” he asks, and I don’t miss the dip in the corner of his mouth where he wants to smirk.

I take a step forward, running my hand over my shoulders, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. “I’d say that you’re braver than me.”

“Ruby?”

I don’t look back at him, keeping my eyes locked on the way the girl moves around Jade. Her arms frail around Jade’s body, her head tilting back to laugh, showing her straight teeth. She’s pretty, sure, but I expected more.

“Ruby!”

I snap, coming back to Wicked. “What?”

“Stop being a fucking idiot.”

“I’m not. I date them, apparently.” I shove my phone back into my handbag and turn back toward the clubhouse. I need to make my way back into the safe area with Jade and Poppy. Away from him and any questions he may ask. I don’t know why I ever kept Wolf from Wicked. I think a big part of me told myself that I did it because I didn’t know how to find him or thought he was dead, but I know that’s not true. Standing here today, with him right in front of me, I know that’s not true, but now it’s like the lie I told myself for years is quicksand and I can’t seem to get my feet out of it.

“Date who? The father to your kid?” he asks before I can take another step closer to the clubhouse. I lock eyes with Papa, who is sitting at the bar watching us from afar.

I turn to face him again. He’s closer now, his hoodie moved off his face and resting at his neck. “Boy or girl?” He takes another step.

I take one back. “Boy.”

“Hmmm.” His eyes narrow. The air shifts around us and my throat tightens, as if gaining any air is impossible. “He must be old? Old enough to have conversations about Christmas?”

I step back again, my heel crunching over the loose stones. I eat men for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, yet in his presence, I cower. Every time. It’s as though even after all of these years, it’s still him. Just him who has enough masculinity to soften me. “He’s very smart.”

Wicked takes another step, tilting his head to the side. I watch as his dark eyes dance over my skin before flying back up to my face. “How old?” Fear crawls over my skin.

I take three steps back, faster this time. The music becomes louder, and people who were standing outside have stopped talking. “How old, Ruby?” Oh shit. His voice is louder.

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