Unbeloved

Chapter Twenty-Four

Seven years later

Beneath the cloudy gray Colorado sky, the formidable walls of the federal prison loomed ahead of me, looking every bit as intimidating as the men it contained inside. Even after nearly eight years of visits, sometimes twice a month, seeing these walls more times than I cared to count, they still sent a shiver up my spine, filling me with a strong sense of loneliness and desperation.

Still, I’d never entertained the notion of not visiting, and I’d even been married inside those walls.

Two years into Hawk’s sentence and after a ridiculous amount of paperwork and fees, Hawk and I were finally allowed to legally marry in a small and uncomfortable ceremony with the two of us, Christopher, the prison chaplain, and several dozen prison guards in attendance.

A prison marriage was never something I’d had my heart set on, but I was far from being the fantasy-driven child I’d once been. Simply having Hawk put a ring on my finger, with Christopher there to witness it, had made it one of the happiest moments of my life.

Although conjugal visits weren’t allowed in federal prison—or any prison in the entire state of Colorado—it didn’t matter. It was the simple act of marriage that had meant the world to me.

But this time I wouldn’t be passing through those gates. There would be no paperwork to fill out, no invasive searches through my belongings and clothing.

This time I wouldn’t be seeing Hawk from across a table, unable to do little more than touch his hand.

This time, Hawk would be the one walking through those gates, walking back to his life, and back to me as a free man.

It had taken seven and half years to get to this point, but the moment was finally here and it couldn’t happen fast enough. Seven years was a long time, and Hawk had missed so much.

There had been several deaths, the most devastating of which had been the loss of Eva’s father, Preacher. Because he’d hidden the fact that his health was failing from his daughter, when she’d finally found out, Preacher was already in the hospital with very little time left. It had taken her a long time to recover from losing him, and then in the midst of her grief, we’d lost a fellow Hell’s Horseman, Freebird. But whereas Preacher’s unexpected cancer had taken him quickly and left his family reeling, Freebird’s death had been a long and drawn-out battle that had whittled the once fun-loving man to nearly nothing before his passing. His wife, Apple Dumplin’, devastated with grief, had followed him to the afterlife only a few short months later.

But amid the devastation there had also been joy. Several marriages had taken place, giving us reasons to celebrate even through our grief. Bucket and Christina had married, as well as Dirty and Ellie. And just a year ago, to my utter delight, my daughter had given birth to a blonde-haired, green-eyed and dimpled little devil of a girl that she and Cage had named Samantha.

It was also around that time that the club had called a vote. Deuce’s wish to step down, with Cage as his ready replacement, was unanimously voted into action.

And through it all the club had grown bigger, uniting with the Silver Demons to form an organization so large, so strong, that not even the Russian mafia had made an effort to exact revenge on Deuce for the dangerous game he’d played.

It wasn’t very long after Hawk had turned himself in that his uncle and several of his uncle’s men had been arrested in a federal sting operation that the Horsemen and Silver Demons had both orchestrated and participated in. Deuce told me that only a few months after Yenny’s incarceration, he’d been killed in prison by his own associates.

A part of me was glad a man so twisted was no longer gracing this earth, yet I also felt saddened that the last piece of Hawk’s past had been wiped from this earth.

But I’d made it a point to never again look back, so instead of dwelling on what couldn’t be changed, I looked to the passenger seat, to the young man sitting beside me.

Hawk’s future.

At fifteen, Christopher was quickly becoming a man, every day looking more and more like his father. He was already a foot taller than me, surprisingly muscular for a boy his age, broad and strong and always carrying himself in that stoic and sure way Hawk did.

But in so many ways, he was still a boy.

And judging by the expectant look on his face, he was a boy who still very much needed his father.

“He’s late,” Christopher muttered, referring to Ripper and not Hawk.

Reaching across the space between us, I covered his hand with mine and squeezed. “He’ll be here,” I said. “He promised your father, and Ripper never breaks his promises, does he?”

When Hawk couldn’t be there to do the things a father and son did together, Ripper and Cage had been. At first it had just been the little things, wrestling around with him, playing video games together, and coming to school functions along with Tegen and me.

And then as he grew older, they took him to the school basketball court to shoot hoops, to the batting cages, go-karting, and much to my dismay, they taught him how to ride a dirt bike.

When Christopher was thirteen and his interest in the opposite sex stayed at the forefront of his mind, I’d finally convinced myself to have “the talk” with him. To my surprise, he informed me that nearly all the men at the club had already given him the talk. At first I was horrified, wondering what kind of degenerate stories they’d regaled him with, until Christopher, his face bright red with embarrassment, gave me a quick overview of the things he’d been told, as well as informing me of his ever-growing stash of condoms since the men were always shoving them in his pockets.

I’d left well enough alone at that point.

More recently Cage had been teaching Christopher how to drive, preparing him to get his driver’s license. There were talks of learning how to ride a motorcycle, but I’d been adamant in my refusal. Their intentions were good and more than appreciated, but it was and always would be Hawk who would have the honor of teaching his son how to ride.

Looking at me, Christopher shook his head. “No, Ripper doesn’t break his promises,” he said, but his quiet tone and solemn expression told me he was still worried.

“It’s going to be fine,” I said softly, using a tone of voice I hadn’t used with him since he’d stopped coming to me for every little thing. “Ripper will be here.”

As if on cue, the rumbling growl of a motorcycle could be heard off in the distance. When the noise grew closer and louder, it became clear there wasn’t just one motorcycle but an entire army of them. Christopher and I watched as, one by one, the Hell’s Horsemen pulled up behind us on the street, Deuce riding point.

Christopher turned to me, his eyes wide with surprise. “Did you do this?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “I wish I could take credit for this, but it was all Deuce’s doing.”

Christopher shot me one last look before we jumped out of the car to greet the new arrivals.

As Deuce was removing his helmet, Eva was already sliding off the back of his bike and hurrying toward me. We hugged briefly before parting and she slipped her hand into mine, a smile on her face.

“Everyone came,” she said, nodding over her shoulder at the Harleys lining up on the street. She was right, they were all here: Deuce, Mick and Adriana, Cox and Kami, Ripper and Danny, Cage and Tegen, Dirty and Ellie, Bucket and Christina, Danny D. and Danny L., Worm, Anger, Tap . . .

Even Cox’s son Devin had come, the spitting image of his Cox in his youth and on the back of his bike was his girlfriend, Deuce and Eva’s daughter, Ivy. She too was a young woman now, and a beautiful combination of both her mother and sister.

They were all here and seeing them here in a show of support for their fellow brother and friend warmed my heart in ways I would never be able to express with mere words.

“Do I look okay?” I whispered, gripping Eva’s hand tighter. “I dyed my hair last night, but I swear the gray hairs are coming in faster and faster.”

I’d done my best to look as good as I could without going overboard. My hair was freshly dyed its natural color, my makeup was minimal, and my clothes were new yet still casual.

“Stop,” Eva said with a laugh. “You look beautiful. And don’t talk to me about gray hair.”

Although beginning to feel more anxious than excited, I realized my mistake and laughed as well. Eva, not caring enough to dye it, had far more gray hair than I did, and because her natural color was so dark it showed far more than mine. But even at her age she could still be found in ratty old band T-shirts, jeans that had gone out of style in the 1970s, and Chuck Taylors on her feet. Despite nearing her fifties, she was still just as unique and beautiful as when I’d met her all those years ago when she was only twenty-two.

And I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive and loving friend.

While Deuce might have insisted on purchasing a house for Christopher and me, it had been Eva who’d helped me more than anyone. At her insistence, I’d finally gotten around to getting my GED and afterward, a job at the local florist. Now I was working on obtaining my associate degree, albeit online and with a great deal of my daughter’s assistance.

I might be in my fifties, but in my opinion there was no time limit when it came to bettering yourself. As I often told myself when feeling discouraged, it was better late than never.

Sadly, that same line of thinking wasn’t one my family shared with me. While my sister and I had reunited on well enough terms, my parents and I were still estranged. Even though a part of me would always feel the sting of losing them, I had a new family, one who accepted me despite my faults.

“There he is!”

I wasn’t sure who saw him first or who announced his arrival, and I didn’t care. All I cared about was the sight of the man himself. Still far off in the distance, a figure could be seen coming down the walk. Although I couldn’t yet make out his features, I knew it was Hawk from the distinct limp in his stride. Despite the continued medical attention he’d received in prison, his leg never did heal correctly.

As he grew closer, slowly approaching the main gates, the crowd on the street fell silent. Searching for Christopher among them, I beckoned him to me. Releasing Eva’s hand, I looped my arm through my son’s and waited.

When he was close enough for me to see the gray in his short beard and sideburns, close enough for me to see he was wearing the clothing I’d left for him, close enough to know that he was looking directly—and only—at me, my stomach filled with warmth, exploding quickly throughout the rest of my body.

Still, I wasn’t under the silly notion that readjusting to life together would be an easy transition. Hawk had lived behind bars for nearly eight years, and whether he would admit it or not, living in prison was much like experiencing an ongoing trauma, and with each visit I’d seen the toll it took on him. His only glimpses of the outside world were through the people who took the time to come and visit, to ensure he remained a significant part of their life on the outside, and I’d done my best to see that had happened.

But at the same time, I knew there would be conflict. Voices would be raised, tears would be shed, more likely between his son and him than between him and me. But I was determined to make it work, and ready to take on any additional obstacles that life decided to throw our way. Hawk had waited for me while I’d shut myself away for years, and more than deserved me giving him that same courtesy.

After all, what kind of a life was a life without someone to enjoy it with, someone to grow old with, without someone to love.

It wasn’t a life I ever cared to know again.

Suddenly the lights atop the gates lit up, a bell and a buzzer both sounded, and my breath hitched as Hawk walked through the slowly opening gate. When he was free and clear and the gates began to close behind him, he surveyed the parade on the street with a grin on his face.

“I’m FREE!” he shouted, thrusting his arms up in the air.

With a roaring shout, the boys shot forward across the street, circling and engulfing Hawk. It took several long minutes for the reunion to calm, but when it did, when the men began to disperse and Hawk emerged from the group wearing his cut, still holding Christopher’s arm, I stepped forward into the street.

“Irish!” Ripper yelled. “Go give your old man a fuckin’ hug!”

Hawk’s gaze shot to Ripper. “You gave my boy a nickname?”

“He did!” I called out, smiling. “They all did!”

Ripper shrugged. “Figured Irish was better than Russian, yeah?”

Releasing his arm, I gave Christopher a little shove. “Go say hi,” I said softly.

He looked down at me, then back to Hawk who was just standing there, waiting for Christopher to make the first move.

Despite having seen each other throughout Hawk’s prison sentence, I knew this moment had been a source of anxiety for both of them. They’d both grown so accustomed to their respective places—Hawk parenting as best he could from prison two states away, and Christopher growing up having accepted that this was the extent of his relationship with his father, and used to being the man of the house—that neither of them knew exactly how to act when the moment came that they were thrust back into each other’s lives.

Just as I was beginning to worry that neither of them were going to make the first move, Hawk edged forward. And once Christopher saw that Hawk was walking toward him, he took a step as well. And although it was at a snail’s pace, Hawk with his limp and Christopher full of apprehension, when they finally reached each other, Hawk pulled him into a hug that Christopher instantly returned.

With tears in my eyes, I watched as the two men in my life held each other. I felt so incredibly full, so near to bursting, that I wasn’t sure I could hold out another second without running to them. But as it turned out, I didn’t need to wait much longer.

I could only watch, trembling slightly, as Hawk closed the distance between us. And then he reached for me, pulling me into his arms and against his body. Crying softly, I fell limp against him and let go of all my worries, of my anxiety. Instead of thinking about what was to come, I simply reveled in the gift I’d just been given.

In Hawk.

He was here, not behind those walls, not surrounded by prison guards, but really and truly here. I was touching him and he was touching me, and it had been so long, so agonizingly long since I’d last had him to myself that the people around us, the prison behind us, the entire world seemed to disappear.

“You smell good,” he said softly, dropping his face into my hair and inhaling deeply.

Gripping his back, I closed my eyes.

It was just me. Just him.

Us.

Moments.

And I was never going to let go again.

Until Ripper made me.

“Brought you a ride, brother,” Ripper said, grinning as he shoved in between us. “Irish and I been plannin’ this shit for a while now. Kid even helped build it.”

Both Hawk and I turned to the group and as they parted, they revealed the beautiful custom-made bike that Ripper had ridden up on. Although I knew very little about motorcycles and the mechanics of them, I was aware of the many hours the boys had put into this project, and the end result was beautiful.

But Hawk was no longer looking at the motorcycle, he was looking at me. “You save me that ride, D?”

More tears welled in my eyes. “I saved you everything,” I whispered. “Everything.”

Reaching for me, his thumb brushed several errant tears away from my cheek. “You did good, baby,” he said. “You did real fuckin’ good without me.”

I shook my head. “I was never without you.”

And just like that, as I was staring up into those dark eyes, the gray in his beard was gone, the lines around his eyes disappeared, and in his eyes I saw my own reflection, young and pretty, smiling up at him. Ready to take that ride.

The way it always should have been.

The way it always was and always would be, inside my heart.

“You motherfuckers wanna stand outside a prison all fuckin’ day?” Cox shouted. “That’s on you, but I’m ridin’ my ass outta here. Freakin’ me the fuck out, thinkin’ they’re gonna come chain my ass up or somethin’!”

Shaking my head at Cox, I turned to Hawk and smiled. “Do you even remember how to ride?”

His answering laughter was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

“Woman,” he said, an eyebrow cocked as he looked down at me. “It’s like fuckin’. You don’t ever forget how.”