He stands. “I’ve gotta get going so I can start an essay due on Monday. Thanks for today.” I’m not sure what I said to cause him to be so abrupt, but I roll with it. Maybe he really does feel the pressure to get home and work on his essay. Maybe I didn’t say anything that affected him.
I stand, too. “I enjoyed today.”
We drive back to the clubhouse in silence. I can tell Maddox is all talked out, so I don’t hound him with conversation. When we arrive, he thanks me again, and gets straight on the back of Memphis’s bike to go home.
Thorn meets me outside as I watch them leave. “You going home now?”
I look at Thorn. He’s watching me while Winter’s away. We get on well, thankfully. I wouldn’t want to get on Thorn’s bad side; he’s got a dark vibe that is a little scary. “No, I’m going to make you guys some more meals since I know you’re all too busy to cook at the moment. We’ll need to go to the supermarket first.”
He doesn’t smile, but I hear it in his voice when he says, “I got the boys to clean the kitchen in case you decided to cook again.”
“Thank you.” He has no clue what this means to me. And not just because the kitchen is clean.
“It was a fucking mess in there. I’ve told them to pick up after themselves from now on.”
As I drive to the supermarket, I realise how blessed I am to be surrounded by people who see me and care about me. I think I’ve felt so let down from the seven years Winter and I did IVF, that I’ve allowed myself to feel alone in life. I’ve watched pregnant women and mothers with their children go about their lives, and had a sense of isolation. I’m not, and never will be, one of them, and they’re who I desperately wanted to be. I’ve wondered how I fit in anymore. Where I fit in if not in the mothering role I always felt called to.
But maybe this nurturing side of mine wasn’t given to me so I could raise my own children. Maybe it was for other purposes. Maybe I’m meant to care for people who show up needing love and friendship.
Maybe God has a plan for me after all.
35
Winter
* * *
I kick the motel door closed behind me, and collapse onto the bed. Pulling my phone out, I check the time. 11:55 p.m. Probably too late to call Birdie, but fuck it, I need to hear her voice. Today was a long day with little reward, and I’m fucking missing her like never before.
I’ve been in Brisbane for just over two weeks and have yet to locate Zenith. They haven’t shown their faces here yet, and no one we’ve spoken with has said they’ve been contacted by the gang. But we know they’re here, because Zane has picked up chatter indicating that. The only good thing about the past two weeks is that we haven’t lost any more club members. Shit has settled down and business has gone back to normal. Ransom is running things in Melbourne while I’m here. I brought Hunt with me, figuring I’d call more men once we need them. We haven’t had to do that yet, which leaves them free to round up more business in Melbourne. Something our bank balance needs after Zenith tried to wipe it clean.
I call Birdie and am surprised when she answers on the first ring.
She appears on the screen, working her magic the minute I see her. “Hey, baby.”
“Angel.” I frown and sit up. “Have you been crying?”
Wiping her face, she smiles. “No. Yes. Ugh, yes, but it’s not what you think.”
“What the fuck is it then, because it doesn’t look good.”
She wiggles around, getting comfortable on our bed. Fuck, I miss our bed. I miss being with her in our bed. “I’ve been in the nursery.”
My breathing slows. “Why?” Why the fuck would she go in there if she knows it’ll just stir up all her pain.
“I really don’t want to talk about this tonight, Winter. Can we just talk about it when you get home?”
“No, I want to talk about it now. Why were you in the nursery?”
Her chest rises as she takes a deep breath. It falls as she exhales and says, “I go in there to cry.”
Fucking hell. I need to go home soon. “Why?”
“Because it’s helping me feel better. It’s helping me release my pain.”
I try to slow my responses down, because my instinct is to shield her from pain, but it sounds like she’s doing something that’s working for her. “How long have you been doing this?”
“For about a week.”
“And you just sit in there and cry?”
She smiles. “Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but it helps.” She bites her lip. “I think you should come in there with me when you get home.”
“I can do that if you need me with you.”
“No, I mean you should try it for yourself. And for us. I think it might help us work through all the stuff we need to.”
“What stuff?”
“Our IVF baggage and our disappointment over not being able to have a baby. And everything that’s going on with our marriage because of all that.”
“Birdie, once I get all this club stuff sorted, and we have time together again, our marriage will get back on track. You don’t need to worry about—”
“It’s more than that, Winter.”
“More than what?”
“Our marriage problems are from more than us being busy.”
Fuck, I know we’ve had problems, but hearing the words from her is like a punch to the gut. I thought once we both stopped working so much, we’d figure it out. Birdie seems to have other ideas. “How about we talk this out when I get home?”
“But will you? Whenever I try to get you to talk, you shut down on me.”
“Yeah, because I’ve been busy.”
“I don’t think that’s the reason, baby. I think it’s been too hard to face our losses this year, so we’ve stopped talking, and stopped connecting.”
I scrub my hand over my face. I’m tired and this kind of hard shit isn’t best discussed when we’re tired. “We’ll discuss it when I get home.”
She turns silent for a long moment before nodding. “Okay.”
“I love you, Birdie.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Her face disappears from the screen.
I rest my elbows on my knees and drop my head. Stretching my neck, I think about what Birdie said. Our marriage has taken a lot of hits over the years, but we’ve stuck together through it all. Hell, we fucking survived IVF. That says a fuckuva lot about a marriage as far as I’m concerned. We just need to spend time together to fix what’s wrong at the moment. That’s all.
I move off the bed and walk into the bathroom. Stripping out of my clothes, I flick the shower on and stand under it, letting the heat work its way into my muscles.
As I’m drying off afterwards, a call comes through.
Zane.
“You got a hit?” I ask, figuring a late call like this isn’t for shits and giggles.
“Yeah, brother. We got a fucking hit.”
I exhale a long fucking breath. It’s about fucking time. “Where?”