The Aces MC Complete Collection

  “It took less den twelve hours,” Patrick commented from the entryway of the kitchen, a small smile on his face. “Sorry, I smelled coffee.”

  “If he can cut in, I can cut in,” Nix announced, letting out a huge breath of air as if being forced not to talk had made him hold his breath, as well.

  “He was there, you weren’t, kiddo,” I argued, pointing at him.

  “Yer mum was de prettiest girl I’d ever seen,” Patrick said over his shoulder as he grabbed a cup of coffee. “I was infatuated from de first.”

  “He’s full of it.”

  “I am not!” Patrick sat down at the table while Nix’s head flew back and forth between us. “Ye should have seen her in her school uniform.”

  “I went to an all-girls Catholic school and had to wear the uniform—plaid skirt and knee socks,” I informed my son.

  “Not a visual I want,” Nix groaned and slunk down into his seat.

  “Anyway, we eventually got married,” I said, rubbing my thumb over the tattoo on my finger.

  “You’re married?” he yelled, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

  “Yep.”

  “Then why isn’t he my dad? Why aren’t you my dad?” Nix asked, on the verge of completely losing his shit. I guess it wasn’t the best morning to lay it all out for him. God, I was a shitty mother. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing half the time.

  “It’s not—”

  “No, let me take this one,” I said to Patrick, cutting off whatever he was about to say. I’d not allow my son to know the full events of that year. Not for any reason, ever.

  “We got married, but soon after that Patrick’s dad—Nan’s husband Robbie, who you’re named after—was killed in a car bombing outside our house.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t pretty,” I said softly, glancing at Patrick as we both remembered that morning.

  “God, that must have sucked,” Nix said, slumping back down in his seat.

  I nodded in agreement. “Then soon after that, Patrick’s wild oats came back to haunt him.” At Nix’s confused face, I explained a little more clearly. “He’d slept with someone before we were married, and gotten her pregnant.”

  “You dick,” Nix said to Patrick, who was running a hand down his face.

  “Aye, ye’ve got de right of it.”

  “We decided to get out of Ireland with some friends of Patrick’s, but we had to leave in two different groups. Patrick took his baby mama—” I paused when Nix snorted at my terminology, “then Nan and I were supposed to go in the second group and meet up with him.”

  I looked over and met Patrick’s eyes while I finished my story. “I was angry, livid really, so before we left Ireland, I slept with someone else to get back at Patrick—and then I refused to follow him to Oregon. Your nan and I took a plane to New York and rode the bus down here instead.”

  Patrick’s eyes closed tight, as if in pain, and I so badly wanted to reach across the table to hold his hand—but I didn’t. He didn’t deserve my comfort—not for this.

  “Dang, Mum. Bad move.”

  “Not really, I got you, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, lucky you.”

  “I know, I just love smelly socks and the way you stink up the bathroom so I can’t shower for an hour afterward.”

  “Shut up, Mum!” his eyes flew to Patrick in embarrassment.

  “Oh, please. I lived with the man—he could give you a run for your money.”

  Both Patrick and Nix burst out laughing, and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard—until suddenly, it was the most painful, as Nix’s chuckles became gut wrenching sobs. I stood so fast that my chair hit the tile behind me, and was around the table in seconds, pulling my baby boy into my arms.

  He’d finally gone over the edge he’d been perched on for weeks. I was just thankful that I was there when it happened.

  “Nan’s gone, huh?” he asked into my neck, his entire body shuddering as his fingers dug into my back through the thick robe I was wearing.

  “Yeah, baby. I’m so sorry.”

  I heard a sniff from the table, and turned my head toward Patrick to find his elbows braced on the top with the heels of his hands digging into his eyes.

  I couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down my face.

  “She made Patrick read Robert Burns poems to her,” I told Nix softly, rubbing his back.

  “Good ol’ Robbie Burns, eh?” he replied in a surprisingly accurate depiction of Peg’s accent.

  “Yep. Still making all of us do her bidding, even at the end.” I clenched my eyes tightly closed and breathed in deeply. I didn’t have the luxury of letting myself lose it. I had a son to take care of.

  “What happens now?” Nix asked, and it was so similar to the question that I’d heard years ago, that my eyes met Patrick’s across the table as I answered.

  “Nan planned her own damn funeral, so we’ll do that next week sometime… and then, we’ll just keep living.”

  “Okay,” Nix said, as he leaned up to kiss my forehead. I swear I’d never get used to my child being taller than I was. “Um,” he hiccupped, and pulled away. “I’m going to go shower. You okay?”

  “I’m good. Go ahead and shower, but leave some hot water, would you?”

  “Yup.” He moved to the entry of the kitchen and then turned back to Patrick. “It was nice to meet you again, even though the reason you’re here sucks.”

  “It was nice to see ye again, too, Phoenix.”

  “Sorry I stole your last name,” Nix said with a crooked, watery smile.

  Patrick stared at him for a minute then lifted his chin. “I’m not.”

  Chapter 48

  Amy

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, looking over my shoulder at Patrick, who was glowering at the man I was speaking to.

  “Of course, babe,” Sam said kindly, pulling me into a hug and rubbing my back in long, sweeping motions.

  The movement would have been a comfort on any other day, but with Patrick watching us, it just made my skin crawl.

  “Call me tonight.”

  “I will.”

  I watched Sam walk out to his lifted pick-up truck, and sighed as he waved before pulling away. Fuck.

  I’d been seeing Sam for a little over six months and things were good with us. Really good. He was handsome, smart, he knew what he was doing in bed and he treated Nix like the kid brother he’d never had—interested in what he was doing and protective, but not all up in his business like a parent. He was such a good guy. Over the past month, he’d dealt with my mood swings, breaking plans, and depression, and he’d never once faltered in his devotion.

  My dating life had been pretty much non-existent the past few years. I’d dated a man for almost a year when Nix was five, but that had eventually fizzled out. I’d made him wait so long before I’d been ready to have sex with him, that when I’d eventually given in we’d realized that we weren’t very compatible. He’d been a sweetheart, a man I’d met at my yoga class, and I couldn’t have picked a better person for my first time after the attack… but it hadn’t been good. Not in any capacity. He’d been gentle, and tender and everything I could have wanted, but he’d also had no backbone or skill. After the first time when I’d cried, and the next few times that I’d laid there in boredom, we’d both known that it wasn’t going to work out.

  I hadn’t had sex again until Patrick had shown up a few years later, and after that, I hadn’t even been open to the possibility of becoming serious with anyone else. Not until Sam.

  On paper, Sam was everything I could have wanted. He was gentle, but he also knew exactly how to touch me. He didn’t put up with my shit, but he didn’t push, either. He was successful, driven and extremely attractive. I really liked him and I’d thought that maybe we were working toward something good.

  But now, all I could see was Patrick, and I fucking hated that. I hated the pull he had on my emotions and the way he wouldn’t let go.

/>   He wouldn’t let go, and I couldn’t go back.

  “Mum, I’m heading over to Simon’s okay? His mom’s leaving right now.” Nix came to a stop next to me, and I leaned against his lanky frame.

  He’d grown taller than me by the time he was thirteen, and now my head barely reached his shoulder. It both amazed me and drove me insane because I knew where he’d inherited that height.

  “Are you sure—” my words cut off as his body grew tight against mine. I was being selfish. “Sure, baby. But you need to be home by nine, okay?”

  “Mum—”

  “Nine, Phoenix. No later. You’ve got school tomorrow and you’re not staying the night over there.”

  “I always stayed there before—”

  “Nix,” I warned, and his mouth snapped shut.

  “Fine,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “Love you.”

  “Love you too, kiddo.”

  He ran down the steps and met Simon’s mom Renee at her car, where she stood waiting for him. She raised her hand and waved back at me with a nod before climbing inside and pulling away. We had a deal, her and I. No matter where the boys were, my house or hers, we kept an eagle-eye on the two of them.

  “Ye couldn’t have let de kid stay wit’ a friend tonight?” Patrick’s voice startled me. I’d forgotten for a moment that he was there. “We’ve got shite to talk about, Amy. I let ye have de past couple of days, but it’s time.”

  I shook my head and locked the front door, absently looking over the messy house. There’d been too many people inside my small home, but I’d wanted to have the reception after the funeral in my own space. I’d never felt completely comfortable at the church, and I’d wanted to get out of there as soon as I could.

  “Yer makin’ him a mama’s boy,” Patrick continued, and I felt unreasonable anger rise in my chest. I’d heard that comment before from an old boyfriend right before I’d kicked his ass out of my house.

  “Simon’s not Nix’s friend, Patrick,” I replied, walking into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It felt like the house had dropped ten degrees without all of those bodies heating it. “He knows he’s not allowed to stay the night there, he was just trying to work the sympathy card.”

  “Shite, de boy just lost his nan—”

  “That doesn’t mean that I’m going to encourage him at sixteen to go have sex!” I snapped back, turning to face him.

  “What?” The look of confusion on his face was almost comical.

  “Simon is Nix’s boyfriend.”

  I watched as understanding hit him and braced myself. I was used to people saying shit—I lived in a small Texas town, for Chrissake, so it wasn’t like I hadn’t heard the murmurs. I was also pretty sure that Simon and Nix were together purely because it was slim pickins around here for gay teenagers.

  But that didn’t mean that I was prepared for any type of scorn from Patrick. It would completely sever any ties I believed were still holding us together.

  “Well, shite. I wouldn’t let him spend de night dere, eit’er.” He growled, dropping into a chair at the table. “What’s dis Simon kid like?”

  I felt a small smile curve my lips as I turned back toward the counter. “He’s a nice kid. Not very handsome,” I looked over my shoulder with a smirk. “His ears stick out and he’s fighting a losing battle with acne. But he’s sweet to Nix, and that’s all I can ask for.”

  “Little fucker better be nice to Nix,” I heard him grumble as I passed him a hot mug.

  “It’s fine, you know? He’s a good kid, and he’s respectful. I can’t really complain.”

  He was silent for a few moments and I could envision the gears grinding and the wheels turning as he processed this new information. I’d had years to process it, starting when Nix was around…eleven, I think? He’d started asking questions then, and even though it had scared me, I’d answered as calmly and reasonably as I could.

  Did I care that my kid was gay? Not at all.

  Did I worry about him every single second he was out of my sight? Yes, but I’d been doing that since the day he was born and I didn’t see it changing—ever.

  I knew that there were people out there who would hurt him just because they could. Bigots. But for now, we were tucked away here in our quiet town, and we hadn’t had any problems yet. My boy was all boy, strong and masculine, and there were only a few kids larger than him in his high school. As long as he was there, I knew he was relatively safe. I didn’t let myself think of when he’d leave for college. That was a whole new set of worries.

  “He havin’ sex wit’ dat kid?” Patrick’s accent was deeper, along with his tone.

  “Uh, no. I don’t think so,” I replied, wiping off the coffee that had come out of my mouth in an arc of surprise. “He’s only sixteen, Patrick.”

  “I was havin’ sex by de time I was twelve.”

  “Twelve?”

  “Aye.”

  “That’s disgusting!” I looked at him in horror, but I couldn’t change my expression. Ew.

  “Mum worked quite a bit,” he said with a chuckle, his accent once again fading.

  “New subject,” I ordered, my nose still scrunched up.

  “Ye have de birds and de bees talk wit’ him yet?”

  “He’s not going to be getting anyone pregnant.”

  “Don’t be a bitch, ye know what I meant,” he chastised. “He knows about condoms and whatnot?”

  “Where the hell is this all coming from?”

  “Because I could talk to him. Talked to some of de younger boys at de club, ye know—”

  “Patrick!” I yelled, cutting off his rambling.

  When his eyes met mine, they were concerned. “He can’t go havin’ unprotected sex, Amy. It’s not safe.”

  “Relax, baby,” I said, the endearment slipping out before I could stop it. “I’ve had that talk with him. More than once. He’s got condoms if he needs them, but I don’t think he’s using them.”

  “Dere’s AIDS and shite, Amy.”

  “Nix isn’t going to get AIDS, Patrick. Shit.”

  “Or herpes.”

  “Could you knock it the fuck off?”

  “How well do ye really know dis Simon kid?”

  He was really irritating the shit out of me.

  “Patrick, what the fuck is wrong with you? Simon’s gay, not a serial killer!”

  Patrick’s chair fell over as he shot up from the table, his face a mask of angry disbelief.

  “Dat boy thought I was his da,” he hissed, bracing his hands on the table to lean closer. “He carries me name.”

  I watched him in silence as my face grew red. I knew I’d offended him, but I was fucking offended, too.

  “He carries me name, Amy. De love of me life carried him inside her fuckin’ body! It’s not like he’s some kid off de bloody street.” He shook his head, seeming to grow angrier by the second. “I have a daughter at home and she doesn’t even bring boys back to de club because dere so fuckin’ terrified!” he growled, taking a step back away from the table. “Ye are out of yer bloody mind if ye believe me concern comes from anyt’in’ but de worry dat someone is takin’ advantage of our children.”

  He stomped away and out the front door before I had a chance to reply.

  I felt like shit, like a complete and total asshole. I’d been so defensive for so long that I’d automatically assumed that he was being a dick, spouting off all of that STD crap. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that he was being ridiculously protective. I spent so much time worrying that someone would treat Nix badly, that I hadn’t even realized when someone was doing the exact opposite.

  I was such a bitch.

  “Patrick!” I yelled, pushing back from the table and following him outside.

  I found him sitting on the front steps, smoking a cigarette.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, plopping down next to him. “I think I’m overly sensitive.”

  “No shite?”

  “I’m so worried that someo
ne is going to be an asshole— hold that thought.”

  I jumped up and ran upstairs to grab a small Altoids tin out of my sock drawer. When I made it back down, Patrick was watching me in amusement.

  “You have a light?” I asked, setting the tin down on the wood step next to me and pulling out a small joint.

  “Why, Amy Gallagher, ye rebel.”

  “Without a cause—I know.” I shook my head as I took the lighter out of his hand and lit up, taking a small drag and coughing slightly. “It helps with my anxiety.”

  “Ye have a problem wit’ dat? Anxiety?”

  “Not really, yoga and meditation help. I haven’t even gotten hives in years. You know, this is the first time in a long ass time that we’ve just sat shooting the shit.”

  “American phrases are ridiculous—and don’t change de subject.”

  “I thought you were giving me a minute to apologize.”

  “Consider yerself forgiven—I’ve dealt wit’ me own share of shite wit’ Brenna.”

  “Really? That surprises me.”

  “Not so surprisin’,” he commented, taking the joint from my fingers and inhaling deeply. “Her pop is part of a motorcycle club, some parents ain’t too excited about dat.”

  “Ain’t.” I snorted, as he passed the joint my way again.

  “Shut it.”

  “Sorry you’ve had to deal with that. We haven’t had any major things happen yet—but I feel like I’m always braced for it. I just don’t want him to get hurt, you know? I mean, he’s big and he’s going to be bigger, so I think he’ll do alright physically. I just hate the thought of someone making him feel bad about something that he’s got no control over.”

  “Ye can’t shield him from everyt’in’—boy’s almost grown, he can’t be cowering behind his mum.”

  “He doesn’t. If anything, he’s more protective of me.”

  “Good. Sounds like ye raised him right.”

  “More like your mum did. Shit, I don’t know what I would have done without her. I was so messed up for so long, I think I had a panic attack when she finally moved out.”