“Great.” Luke claps his hands around my shoulder, his excitement vibrates through me. “How about a Christmas Day breakfast instead of dinner?”
“Are we doing presents?” Jax asks, looking around at his brothers. “If we are, I need ideas . . .. I just got the kids something.”
Shocked, I glance at Jax. “You did?”
“Was I not supposed too?”
“No. I mean, that was nice of you.” I smile at him thoughtfully before I realize who I’m talking to. “Wait . . . what did you get them?”
“Bikes,” he says softly with a big smile on his face, then looks over his shoulder where the kids are watching TV to make sure they didn’t hear him. “Why? What did you think I got them?”
“I don’t know . . . something explosive, dangerous, possibly deadly.” I shrug then smile at him.
“Matt’s bike has a motor,” Jax says nonchalantly.
“You got him a motorcycle?” I nearly screech, then look over at the kids, who are eyeing me as if I’m a weirdo.
“Seriously, Jax, a motorcycle?” I ask again, much more quietly.
“Relax. It’s a dirt bike, it doesn’t go very fast . . . it’s perfectly safe,” he murmurs, but it does nothing to reassure me. A dirt bike. What was he thinking? Matt could hurt himself. He’s far too young for a motorized vehicle.
“I got Matt a helmet to go with the dirt bike,” Clint says, clearly not seeing the dangers the Colson men are trying to put my son in.
“I got him some riding gear,” Eric chimes in.
“I’m sorry.” Dawn frowns at me. “I thought you knew. Luke said it was fine.”
I turn to glare at him. “You did what?”
His eyes widen and he takes a step back. “He told me he wanted one.” Luke puts his hands on my hips. “When the guys asked what to get the kids, I thought bikes would be a great idea since they lost theirs in the fire. Jax found a good deal on a used dirt bike. Clint is going to help get it up and running, and I know Matt has been wanting one. He told us at the bachelor party. A couple of his friends have them, and he told me how he was saving his money for one.”
“He is?”
“I will teach him how to ride it and make sure he wears his gear,” Luke reassures, pulling me into his chest and kissing my forehead.
“Okay.” I nod, though not fully committed to the idea. Luke taking an interest in what Matt wants and making sure he’s safe comforts me. I’ve come to trust him when it comes to Emily and Matt. He is devoted to them like he was devoted to taking care of his own brothers, but a mother will always worry.
“Okay?” Luke raises a skeptical brow.
“I trust you, and your brothers . . .. Well, Jax is questionable, but I know you all won’t let anything happen to Matt,” I say and Luke’s eyes spark with emotion—the same emotion I saw spark last night when he insisted we make love. I’m not sure I’m ready to admit what it means, but it still causes my heart to skip a beat and fill me with hope.
“We’re going to head out,” Clint says, and Luke looks away. “We’ll be back for Christmas breakfast.”
“Yes, Christmas breakfast.” I nod and step away from Luke to hug Dawn.
“Funny isn’t it?” she whispers in my ear.
“What is?”
“Realizing you can have a happy ending.”
I squeeze her again, wishing her words were true, while that nagging pit in my stomach twist with unease.
21
- Luke -
The first time seeing Emily and Matt leave with Henry was annoying. The second time was upsetting. This time feels like a piece of my heart is being taken away.
I know he is their father, and on some level, I know he won’t hurt them directly, but in my gut, I know he plans to hurt their mom and that will hurt them.
Since learning about Arnold Toppler and Henry’s pending divorce, keeping the kids and Amber close has been my sole focus, and to my surprise, Amber hasn’t objected.
I expected her to throw a fit when I insisted on taking the kids to school and her to work, but she agreed. She’s letting me be more involved and be part of her and the kids’ lives, instead of someone on the outside looking in. I’m soaking it up, loving every minute of it, making it hard not to tell her I love her, especially at night when she gives me more of herself.
“What are you thinking so hard on?” Amber asks as she snuggles into my side while we watch some medical drama she wanted to watch.
“The kids,” I murmur into her hair softly, still debating whether she’s ready to hear what she already knows—that she means something to me.
“Are you worried about them being with Henry?” She shifts at my side and looks up at me. Those emerald eyes will be my undoing. I’m not sure I can bite the words back much longer.
“Yeah,” I say, brushing a strand of her hair from her temple. I am worried about them. Henry was uncharacteristically happy when he picked the kids up. Not once did he seem hostile or confrontational. “Did he seem . . . weird to you?”
“He seemed happy for a man about to get divorced, but he was happy during our divorce, so maybe he is seeing someone else.”
“He was happy about the divorce?” I never did get all the details, only that he cheated.
“He had a beautiful rich woman waiting for him. I can’t say I was happy going through the divorce, but I was relieved. He didn’t fight for custody then and wasn’t opposed to me moving back here. He just wanted everything to be finalized as quickly as possible. He let me have whatever I wanted, not that I wanted much, just the kids.”
“If he didn’t fight you for custody then, why now?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.
“That’s the million-dollar question.” Amber sighs, then places a hand on my cheek, studying my face.
“Why are you so calm all of a sudden?” I blurt out.
“I wouldn’t exactly call myself calm; I still have my freak-out moments. I want all of this to be over with, but I think having Sarah around telling me I have nothing to worry about helps. Plus, you keep me sane.”
“I help keep you sane?” I chuckle because not that long ago, I was one more source of stress for her. It says a lot about what we have manage to overcome.
“I know I haven’t been the easiest to deal with, but you’re growing on me. I like where we are in this relationship.” She squeezes my waist then shifts into my side. “You make an excellent distraction.”
Distraction?
“What do you mean by distraction?” I ask casually, even though the word distraction gives me a bitter taste in my mouth. Amber may have stopped fighting the connection we have, but she’s still holding back.
“You’ve helped keep me distracted from the crap I’m dealing with.” Sensing my unease, she sits up and I feel the loss of her warmth.
“I want to be more than a distraction.” I shift in my seat and face her so I can read every emotion that crosses it. Amber always was an open book when it came to her emotions. Her transparency is like a breath of fresh air. I never have to question her motives—even when she isn’t telling me how she feels—it’s there in the open for me to see. I would have given up on us long ago if I couldn’t read her so easily, but in this moment, I wonder if I haven’t been reading her as well as I thought.