His kid stayed focused on the matter at hand. His ma. If he would’ve walked in while Christopher had been fucking Megan, CJ might’ve tried to beat his ass in the mistaken belief his ma was hurt.
“My wife, boy,” Christopher reminded him.
“You’re both right,” Megan said, stepping between them and kneeling, pulling CJ to her. “Daddy has to dry off.”
“Mommie okay?” he asked, to be certain.
She nodded. “Perfect, buddy. I have two of my favorite guys in the whole world with me.”
Megan loved all their kids and would die to protect them. However, she adored CJ. He was her first-born and her favorite. If Christopher ever told her that, she’d deny it to high fucking heaven. No fucking matter. The way she treated CJ gave her away.
CJ pointed at Christopher, then screamed with laughter. “You all wet.”
Recovered now that she’d rescued her towel, Megan’s amusement joined their boy’s. “Daddy’s silly, huh, sweet potato?”
He nodded. “Uh huh.”
She kissed his cheek.
CJ grabbed her wet hair and lifted the long strands in the air before letting it fall. From the time CJ had been a baby, he’d loved Megan’s hair. No, he’d loved her.
He scooted toward the shower. “My turn!”
Christopher caught him before he jumped in and started the water. “No the fuck it ain’t.”
“Why you all wet, ‘Law?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Megan smirked at him. “Yes, why are you all wet, ‘Law?”
“Cuz Mommie said I needed to try gettin’ in the shower with my clothes on, boy.”
She shot to her feet. “I did not!”
Dripping to her, he grabbed her neck and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head, holding in his laughs at her hilarious outrage. “Just fuckin’ kiddin’, CJ. I came to tell your ma bye and…” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t tell his young son that she’d looked so fucking gorgeous, he hadn’t been able to control his dick. “And she couldn’t fuckin’ hear me over the water, so I stepped in and got all fuckin’ wet.”
CJ glanced at the shower.
“Later tonight I’ll let you try it,” Megan promised, just as Christopher knew she would.
Watching his boy bounce around the room, he anticipated the big fucking mess CJ would create.
“Rule and Ryder, too, ‘Law?”
“Ryder just four fuckin’ months old.”
“Ryder ain’t doing this?”
Christopher frowned at CJ’s question. His boy tried to imitate him in all things, even speech.
While he was too fucking old to truly change, he could try to talk a little better for the sake of his kids. He still cut out the ‘g’s most of the time and fucked up other parts of correct English. He’d never be a Shakespeare motherfucker, but his children? They’d be everything he’d never been.
“Ryder can’t do this,” Christopher reminded his son. “He a…he’s a small baby.”
Christopher averted his eyes at Megan’s look. Not her love and adoration. He’d never get enough of that message in her eyes. It was her understanding and encouragement over correcting himself that got to him. She insisted CJ would learn in school.
“As long as you’re doing this for you, Christopher,” she’d said, loving him just as he was.
In a way he was doing it for himself. If he was remembered for nothing else when he became a Free Bird, he wanted Megan to say he’d been a good husband to her and a good father to their kids.
“C’mon, ‘Law.” CJ grabbed his hand and tried to yank him forward. “I ready to leave. Wanna shower with my clothes.”
Today was boys’ day out. With no urgent business, he, CJ, and Rule always met Johnnie and Rory, and Val, Ryan, and Devon, at the park twice a month for father/son bonding. Usually, CJ looked forward to the playdate. Now, though, Megan had just given him a reason to hurry shit along.
“We got a long day, son,” Christopher told him. “Playin’ at the park with your cousins and then food.”
Sometimes, when he thought about how his life had been compared to now, it amazed the fuck out of him. No one would believe a bunch of fucking bikers would bring their sons to a fucking park, like women at a stroller meet. Going to a fucking park twice a month bored the living fuck out of him. To liven shit up, he couldn’t fuck with his old friends, Herb and Al, until afterwards, either.
The only exciting recent event was a Torpedo fuckhead who’d survived the bombing at their old MC reaching out to Christopher several times, requesting help. Christopher wasn’t interested in forming an alliance with a club that had gone from friend to foe. He’d never trust their intentions.