I tug a hoodie on over my tank, not bothering with a bra. I yank the jeans I wore to work back over my hips and dig a pair of thick socks out of the dresser. Fisher grabs some of his clothes that still hang in my closet from the rack.

  Tomorrow, I’ll pack them up and drop them at the clubhouse along with the rest of his shit like I should’ve done when he first went to jail.

  The two of us file into my car. Fisher insists on driving. I’m too mentally and physically exhausted to argue.

  During the ride to the hospital, Fisher occasionally glances at me but he doesn’t speak. I don’t fill the silence either. I study the moon and wish on stars that aren’t there, hoping for answers until we reach our destination.

  Once we’re out of the car though Fisher laces his fingers with mine. I don’t pull away. It’s so easy to fall into old habits with him. He makes it so damn comfortable to forget that the past three years happened at all. If I were the girl he once knew, I’d have no problem playing pretend. Putting a smile on my face. Faking that everything is perfect. I could welcome him with no hesitation. No reservations.

  As we enter the emergency room, I spot all the usual suspects. My brothers, Zuko and Gentry. Whiskey and my sister. My father, John Crow. Fat Bastard, Hellraiser, Shallow, Bubbles, and Pickle among others. Belinda’s family is huddled at the far end of the room. Her mother is sobbing as her father does his best to console her. I don’t see Death anywhere. Maybe that’s for the best considering Fisher is keeping me close.

  My father glances up. “Well, God damn. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He hops up and Fisher releases me to greet him. They exchange a few words I’m not listening to.

  I’m too busy trying to hear what Belinda’s brother is saying to whoever he’s on the phone with. He says the words paralyzed and brain damage. I don’t know if he means Death’s wife or son. Either way it’s not a great prognosis.

  Fisher makes his rounds, receiving everyone’s praises. All of them are happy to have him home. Sounds as though they didn’t know he was being released either. I’m sure if they knew Whiskey would have mentioned it to Yara. She would have passed that information along to me. Warned me. She was as surprised to see him as I was.

  With Fisher preoccupied I squeeze into a chair next to my sister.

  “Any updates?”

  She shakes her head. “Death is sitting with Bensen. Belinda is still in surgery.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  “Let’s go find a vending machine.” She winks. “We’ll be back,” she tells Whiskey.

  I motion to Fisher, and he gives me a lift of his chin in acknowledgment.

  I follow Yara through a set of double doors.

  “Come on. I saw Elaine earlier. She can tell us what room Death’s kid is in.” Elaine is Pickle’s sister. Sometimes she does medical work for the club on the downlow.

  “I didn’t come for that. Fisher asked me to bring him.”

  “Right. What’s up with you two?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  “You’re not getting back with him, are you?”

  I shrug. “I mean, I don’t think so. His being here has me confused.”

  “Did he tell you how he got an early release?”

  “I didn’t ask him. We didn’t get that far in the conversation.”

  “Did you fuck him?”

  “No. I would have but he um. Well, you know it’s been a while so…”

  Yara snickers. “Thank God for small favors. You know I am all for getting you some, but he did you dirty.”

  “He swears April lied.”

  “Yeah, and now she’s not here to claim otherwise.”

  “True, but he seemed genuinely confused when I asked him if he did her. He didn’t know it happened recently.”

  “If you say so. You know all I want is for you to be happy. Are you going to tell Death Fisher is back?”

  “They will cross paths eventually, but Fisher doesn’t know about Death and me and I want to keep it that way.”

  “Duh. Last thing the man needs right now is that drama. Let’s go find Elaine.”

  I don’t know if tracking down Death is a good idea but I’m going to do it anyway. I need him to know that I’m here. Even if he doesn’t want me to be. He said that I belong to him. I don’t know that he still feels that way or if he will once he learns Fisher is back and has no intentions of letting me go.

  Death has problems of his own. Problems far greater than my own.

  My issues with Fisher can’t compare to whatever he’s going through right now.

  Yara spots Elaine and gets the room number.

  I brace myself for whatever is to come and find him.

  Death’s kneeling at his son’s bedside. The boy has a bandage around his head and tubes in his nose. My heart breaks at the sight of the two of them. Bensen appears so small, fragile, and lifeless. The pallor of his skin is ghostly.

  Death looks up. His tortured gaze meets mine and I know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to wipe that expression off his face. I also know that I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have intruded.

  Chapter Four

  “God. I know we’ve never had a great relationship. If we’ve had one at all. I’ve never been a praying man, but I’m on my knees begging. Let my boy wake up from this. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. Take me in his place. Whatever price. I’ll pay it tenfold. Just don’t take my boy. Give me a sign. Any sign.”

  A shadow falls over the doorway. I glance up to see Freya. Is this my punishment for wanting her? For being with her when I should’ve been home being a father? Is God taking my son to teach me a lesson for all my sins?

  Freya offers me a weak smile.

  Fuck me. Even in an oversized hoodie and eyeliner smudged around her eyes like a damn racoon she’s gorgeous. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  I find my footing and walk toward her on the verge of collapsing and showing her how truly weak I am in this moment. I don’t know if she’s here to save me or to torture me further.

  “Hi,” she whispers. Her pretty pink lips call to me. Beg me to claim them. To kiss her and never stop.

  I want to crawl deep inside her and disappear so badly it hurts to look at her. “You shouldn’t be here,” I croak.

  “I brought you a coffee.”

  “Appreciate the thought.”

  “How is he?”

  “Main thing is the swelling on his brain. I’ll know more in the morning.”

  “And you?”

  I shake my head. “Don’t understand it. Not one broken bone. Some scratches. Bruises.”

  “I mean mentally. How are you holding up?”

  “Completely fucked in the head.” I accept the coffee and take a sip. The bitter liquid burns my throat. “Belinda’s likely paralyzed. Shattered her right hip bone. I tuned most of what they said out. Did you happen to notice if her family is still hanging around?”

  “In the waiting room with the club. Well, on the other side of the room.”

  “You should go home. Nothing you can do here.”

  “I um wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you and if there’s anything I can do…name it. I’ll do whatever you need.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but the last thing I can think about is us.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant if you need someone to bring you a change of clothes. Grab you some food. Feed the animals if you have any.”

  “Sweet of you, Freya. Can’t take you up on the offer though.”

  “I understand. I just wish there were something I could do or say. Sorry seems insignificant and prayers well that’s what everyone says isn’t it? But I don’t think you want my prayers. Is there anything I can do for you?” She reaches for my hand, but I don’t give her that play. I don’t deserve her comfort.

  “I know you mean well. I got a lot on my plate right now.”

  “Of course. I’m going to go, but can I hug you?” The way her voice cracks as though she’s unsure if I want her touch shatters something inside me.

  I never want to be the cause of her pain, and yet I know I’m going to hurt her. I seem to ruin everything I touch. The way she’s looking at me in this moment—heartbroken yet sexy, I can’t deny her this one request. I can’t deprive myself of her touch no matter how badly I want to punish myself for what I’ve done.

  “Yeah, sweetheart.” I place the coffee cup on a nearby cart. Wish I could take Freya in my arms and kiss her slowly. Grab her by the neck and fuck her brains out. Fuck out every ounce of frustration coursing through my veins. Can’t do that though. I’ve got a kid who is on the verge of knocking on death’s door.

  I should be laid up in that bed. Not him. Not my boy.

  I’d give anything to trade places with him. It should have been me.

  Freya throws her arms around me, and I press my lips to her neck and freeze up. Her smell is all wrong. The scent of another man clings to her. She smells of smoke and cheap body wash. My spine stiffens and the hole in my chest gapes wider.

  “Anything else you want to tell me,” I growl.

  “Fisher’s out,” she blurts.

  Her words are like poison through my veins. I step away and a laugh rips from my throat.

  “Not sure why that’s funny to you. He was at my place when I got off work. I didn’t know what to do or say. Then Yara showed while I was still processing his being released early to tell me the awful news about your family.”

  “Fucked him before you came to me,” I mutter.

  Her face pales and that’s all the answer I need. Damn.

  “Shane.” My name on her tongue after it’s probably been in his mouth is dirty and wrong. Makes me want to drive my fist through the fucking wall. Already have enough to deal with. I don’t need this piled on me too.

  “Don’t. Don’t make excuses and don’t lie to me. I smell him all over you.”

  “It isn’t like that.”

  “Didn’t peg you as a liar, babe. You want me to believe that you didn’t spread them legs for him as easily as you did me?”

  “You’re upset and want someone to take it out on, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that to me.”

  I stare up at the ceiling as though I can see straight to Heaven. Got my answer. If I want my boy to make it through this, I gotta let Freya go. Hurts to do it but know with the shit I have ahead of me, I gotta cut her loose. Freya isn’t mine to keep. Wish she were. Fuck do I wish she were mine.

  “Go on back to Fisher. Tell him I kept you warm for him.” I know it’s a dick thing to say to her. Only way to make her walk away from me is to make her hate me. If Belinda doesn’t survive this and Bensen isn’t mine, I’m going to have one helluva fight on my hands to keep him. I can’t ask Freya to take that on nor can I expect her to wait for me.

  Her bottom lip trembles and her gorgeous hazel eyes glisten on the brink of tears. “I know you’re hurting but that’s not fair.”

  “Nothing about life is fuckin’ fair. My boy lying in that bed isn’t fair. Fisher getting out of jail isn’t fair.”

  “I’m not with Fisher.”

  “No? Maybe you should be.” The thought makes me physically ill.

  Freya’s beautiful lips screw into a disgusted pout as I prepare to thrust the knife into her heart deeper. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. Best thing for all of us. Never should have started up with you and now he saves me the favor of having to scrape you off.”

  Her mouth drops. “Scrape me off?”

  “Yeah. Got my feel of your pussy.” I stab the knife to the hilt, hating myself more than I already do in the process.

  “I’ll pray for your son.” She twists on a heel and stomps down the corridor.

  I watch her go, hating every second her fine ass is strutting further away, while knowing this is the way it has to be.

  “He’s not even yours.“ Belinda’s words play on a loop in my head followed by the scene of the accident on replay. I keep reliving that fateful moment, asking myself what I could have done differently. Why Belinda said that shit to me? Why I fucking slammed the brakes? Why I’m still breathing? I don’t have any answers. Only more questions. Like if I’m not this boy’s father, then who the fuck is?

  Fuck me. The easy thing to do would be to give the kid over to my wife’s family. Let them raise him. Go lose myself in Freya and her sweet cunt. Let her make me forget any of this happened. But that’s not the kind of man I am. Not the man I choose to be. I’m Bensen’s father. Whether we share DNA doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one who watched him enter this world. I’ve been here every step of the damn way.

  I may not be the best man for the job, but I’m the man who stepped up.

  “Sir, I’m sorry. The scans show no sign of improvement. The internal injuries sustained due to the impact of the crash were too much for his small body.”

  “You said when the swelling went down, you’d have answers.”

  My vision is distorted to nothing but shades of red. Hatred for this world and everyone in it brews inside me in waves.

  This four-eyed bastard has the balls to stand here and tell me that there’s nothing that he can do. Says he’s exhausted all his resources. I call bullshit.

  “These situations are never easy. I—“

  The doctor doesn’t finish his sentence because my hand is wrapped around his throat squeezing the life out of him like the life is draining out of my boy.

  “Security,” someone screams as two men grab hold of me.

  I fight, punch, and kick. “You can’t take my boy,” I roar. They’ll have to kill me first.

  Sharp fangs pierce my skin and bursts of electric currents jolt through me. I drop to my knees before I’m slammed on the cold floor. My body jerks with every volt. Metal cuffs circle my wrists as I’m jerked back to my feet and escorted to an awaiting police car.

  Belinda is comatose and paralyzed. My son is brain dead. And I might as well be. I don’t want to live in a world where he doesn’t exist.

  “Shane Jackson.”

  I look up from my seat on this metal bench in the holding cell I’ve spent the past five hours in. Five hours in purgatory with only my tainted thoughts for company.

  “Hospital isn’t pressing charges. Thank your father-in-law.” The officer opens the door and lets me out the back door of the station. “Don’t pull any more stupid stunts.”

  “Right,” I mutter.

  I’ve spent the past five hours not knowing if my son is still alive. They want to pull the plug on his life support and donate any viable organs.

  They’ve given up on him and expect me to do the same.

  I don’t have my cell phone to call anyone for a ride. I don’t even know where my wallet is. I take off walking toward the hospital. They can’t keep me from being with my son. He’s going to be okay. Miracles happen every damn day. I don’t give a fuck what that doctor has to say about it.

  They aren’t taking my boy.

  Over my dead body.

  Chapter Five

  I wipe away my tears and go in search of Fisher.

  I find him where I left him. Shit talking with my father. Fisher’s gaze meets mine and he smiles at me as though there’s no one else he’d rather see. He looks at me the way I’d hoped Death would.

  “I’m going home. You staying or going?”

  “Wherever you are, that’s where the man wants to be. You two get on out of here. Come see me when you’re ready to come up for air.”

  I roll my eyes at my father’s crude words.

  Fisher chuckles. “See you in a month.”

  “Damn, son. Gonna rub that thing raw,” FB, short for Fat Bastard, tells him.

  “Gross,” Gentry says with a snort. “I don’t want to hear about my sister’s sex life.”

  “You guys done?” I scowl at the lot of them.

  “I’ll ring you tomorrow,” Yara calls out.

  I give her a wave then grab Fisher’s hand to lead him outside.

  “Where’d you disappear to in there?”

  “I went to check in on Death’s son.”

  “You know him well?”

  “Not really, but it’s what my mother would have done.” Not that I want to be anything like her, but its true. If she were still with my father, she’d be here taking control and telling everyone what to do.

  “You ever see her?”

  “Nope.”

  “Sorry, babe. I know it stirs up shit for you.”

  I shrug and let him believe that’s why I’m bothered. I don’t tell him the vile things Death said to me. “Is what it is. I seriously am ready to crash.”

  “Want me to drive again?”

  “Do you still have a license?”

  “Good question. It’s not that far though. Tomorrow I gotta check in with my parole officer. Think you can give me a lift?”

  “I have work, but you can drop me off if you promise to pick me up when my shift ends.”

  “Where you working these days?”

  “I’m still at The Terminal.”

  “No shit?”

  “It’s a living.”

  “I get my shit straight and I’ll deliver on my promise to give you a good life.”

  I wish I believed that were true. “I do okay on my own.”

  “You don’t have to be. On your own that is. Swear to you on my life I’m going to make these past three years up to you.”

  “Fisher, I don’t expect you to just jump back into our old life and pick up like nothing happened. You need time to adapt. We don’t even know if we’re still compatible. A lot can change in three years.”

  Fisher stops walking and jerks me to a stop. His hands cup both sides of my face as his gaze pierces mine. Those stormy eyes of his swirl with such emotion I find it hard to breathe when he looks at me this way. As though he adores me. As though he’d kill for me.

  “I know I love you. Know that nothing compares to being with you. I’ve been on the other side. I lost you. I know what its like to exist in a world you aren’t a part of and fuck. I don’t want to spend another day knowing what that fucking feels like. Every day without you was like slowly drowning.”