I'm Only Here for the Beard (The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC #4)(77)

Sean's words made me turn, and my eyes widened as I looked at my brother.

"I think you're wanted back," he teased.

I pressed a kiss to my brother's cheek, then turned to find Sean staring at me over the length of the half-assed dance floor.

"When you wrote this note to me," Sean cleared his throat. "I was so freakin' mad at you. Had been for weeks. But you just kept chipping away at that hard shell around my heart until you finally broke through. But with this note, you broke me."

I hadn't realized that he'd carried it around with him ever since. I hadn't even been sure that he even found it.

That made my heart sing.

The note wasn't really great. But I'd written the words in a last-ditch effort to get past the wall he'd erected. I'd left it for him as I was leaving. I'd placed it on his motorcycle seat with a Hershey's Kiss to hold it down.

I don't want you to be mad at me anymore. I was being stupid. I'm a girl, and we do stupid things sometimes. But ever since I've gotten out of the hospital, you've broken my heart a little more each day. It hurts. I miss my friend. Don't be mad at me.

"I hadn't realized I'd been so mean," he said, talking only to me now, as if there were no one else in the room.

I didn't want him to know that he'd broken my heart with his words and actions over and over again those few weeks I'd stayed with his dad. It'd been torturous and wonderful all at once, and it was something I'd meant to hold on to.

But then I'd seen him talking to his ex and I'd written the note out of desperation.

"You're the only woman I want, and if you leave me all alone on this earth, I'll be like your friend. Lonely and lost, with my heart missing, and the only thing making me put one foot in front of the other would be my inability to disappoint my father."

Brady and Sean were a lot alike, and as I walked across the dance floor to him, I knew that I'd love him as hard as he would let me. Forever and always. 

***

Ghost

My heart hurt.





Epilogue


Sometimes when I'm mad at my husband, I shave my pubes with his razor.

-Text from Naomi to Aspen

Sean

Four years later

"I bought you a cookie."

I looked over at my wife as she came into the room, and grinned widely at her.

"Thanks baby," I said, heading toward her for a kiss. "Just set it down, and I'll get it in a minute." I held up the blanket. "I need to give this to your kid."

She laughed and started emptying her pockets. Saline flushes. A tourniquet. Cotton swabs and four by four gauze pads. "My kid?"

I ignored that and walked toward the hallway and stopped at the base of the stairs.

Butterfinger snarled at me.

I snarled back.

"Fuck you."

"Sean!" Naomi growled in annoyance. "Don't do that."

I grumbled under my breath.

"Seriously, this is beyond ridiculous," I mumbled, being careful to stay out of Butterfinger's reach so she wouldn't actually make contact with my feet like she'd done hundreds of times before. "Stupid fuckin' dog."

"Daddy," my daughter, Molly, cried out. "Nice."

I rolled my eyes and tossed my girl her blanket.

The moment she had it in her possession, Butterfinger got up off the floor, and walked to the stairs to wait for Molly to gather her hugs before heading to bed.

I walked forward and dropped down to my knees, smoothing Molly's wild curls back from her face. "Now, I want you to promise me that you won't come out of your room tonight. Mommy is tired, okay?"

And Naomi was tired. She was six weeks pregnant with our second child, and had just gotten off a twenty-four-hour shift where she didn't catch but four hours of sleep.

Ever since our daughter was born, we no longer went on the same shifts so one of us would always be home with Molly.

It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do, but it worked for us.

Though, it helped that Naomi had drastically cut down her hours so that she was only working part-time. Meaning, I didn't get to have her two days out of the week instead of four like we had been doing.

Molly tightened her hold on me, and then released my neck to head for her mother. "Goodnight, Mother."

My almost-three-year-old had an attitude. She also liked her daddy better than her mommy.

Not that Naomi minded … much. The girl was just so much like me that it was hard for us not to be close. I was sure the next kid wouldn't like me at all since this one tended to always choose me over Naomi.

"Goodnight, daughter," Naomi chuckled as she shot me a death glare over our child's shoulder. "Make sure you go potty. I'd hate to have to clean up pee in the morning."

Molly widened her eyes and shook her head as if to say 'oh, no she didn't.'

"I don't pee on my bed. My bed pees on me," she snarled in the cutest little cherub voice that had the power to bring me to my knees. "And you, are mean."