Chapter Twenty-Three

Levee - 1 Day

“Shut it off,” Jade grumbled, her voice muffled by my shirt, since she’d been sleeping on my chest.

“It’s Mackie,” I told her, running my fingers through her hair, the silken strands slipping between in a strangely comforting way.

“The bird?” she asked, still not fully awake.

“Some mornings, he likes to greet the sun. Through his megaphone of a mouth.”

“Beak,” she said, pushing up to smile down at me.

I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding to her throat. Seeing the bruises there—darker than when we’d gone to bed the night before—made the simple joy of waking up with her get replaced with something darker.

Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t stopped pounding on that bastard, that Cato and Seeley hadn’t been able to convince me to leave him with breath still in his lungs.

“Right,” I agreed, beating back the dark mood because she’d been through enough. “Beak. There’s probably something going on in the kitchen that’s freaking him out.”

“Like what?” Jade rolled off onto her back, then stretched long and slow as a cat, making her tee slide up, exposing her pink panties and a sliver of her stomach, making my cock go from half to full mast.

“The usual culprits are the broom, vacuum, or mop.”

“So, he has something against cleanliness.”

“He does devote a lot of his time to throwing shit all over the floor…”

Jade sat up, turning over her shoulder to smile at me, the sunlight on her face making her already ridiculous pretty face look devastatingly gorgeous.

“I’m gonna go see,” she said, giving my thigh a squeeze before scooting off the bed, then leaning down to grab her shorts and shimmying them up her thighs. “I could use another ice pop.”

“I’m coming,” I said, taking a few deep breaths to remind my body that now wasn’t the time for fucking, and that we’d make up for lost time when she was feeling better.

We were halfway down the steps when we found the source of Mackie’s rage.

The blender.

“Hey, honey,” Eddie greeted Jade the second her foot stepped into the doorway of the kitchen. “Got you something special this morning.”

“You didn’t have to make anything specifically for me,” Jade insisted.

“‘Course I did. When one of our hunnies is hurt, we take care of ‘em,” Eddie insisted. “Got my official taste tester over here,” he said, gesturing toward one of the club members’ babies sitting in a high chair with several globs of what seemed like pureed fruit on the tray before him. He was happily slapping the yellow pile with enough gusto to send some of it flying into his hair.

“That’s how I feel about mango too,” Coast said, coming into the kitchen, shirtless, his jeans still unzipped. And I swear there was a fucking hickey on his lower stomach. Or maybe it was just a kiss in red lipstick. I wasn’t exactly looking long enough to tell.

“I’m making frozen fruit bowls,” Eddie said, puffing up like he always did when talking about new food projects. “We have mango bowls, blueberry, blackberry, strawberry, and, of course, the O.G… acai.”

“You are a god among men, Eddie,” Jade said, her voice getting raspier the more she spoke.

“Sit. Sample. Ease that sore throat,” he said, grabbing several bowls out of the fridge and bringing them over to the table.

Jade was no sooner sat with her bowls and reaching for her spoon before Mackie was climbing down his cage and patting across the table toward her food.

“If you gotta share, give him the acai,” Kylo said as he came into the kitchen from the backyard with an empty plate after, it seemed, going to feed the tortoise.

“Just a little bite,” Jade told the bird as she held out her spoon with a tiny glob of acai on the end.

But Mackie was smarter than that. He ducked under the spoon and grabbed a whole beak full out of the bowl before running away.

“That’s like me with chocolate,” Jade said, nodding at the bird before sampling the food herself. “Ohmygod,” she groaned.

“Good?” Eddie asked, shoulders going back.

“The best. I’ve had dozens of these,” she said, getting another spoonful. “This is the best by far. You need a restaurant.”

“Don’t tell him that,” I demanded.

“Why not?”

“Because, then, he might not cook for us anymore,” I said, dipping a spoon into the strawberry bowl as I slid in next to her.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jade said, stabbing her spoon into the mango. “You need to share this gift with everyone. Even a food truck would be amazing. When the money comes in from Teddy and Zayn, I’ll invest,” she said.

But, hey, a lot of truth was said in jest.

And I could see the wheels spinning in Eddie’s mind.

Jade - 2 weeks

I was getting a little sick of going back and forth from my place to the clubhouse.

Which made me feel guilty because I really did love my apartment. And after William saved me, I felt pretty awful not being around for him in case he needed me.

Especially on days like this when I got in to find him trying to do something that he wasn’t physically able to anymore.

Find something in the lower cabinets in his kitchen.

Of course, I had to get it for him. Then wash it, so he could use it. Which led to me cleaning out the cabinet, scrubbing it out because it didn’t seem like it had met soap or a sponge in decades, while William grumbled about it from his perch in the living room.

“Can’t do no better than my nephew, huh?” he asked, making me have to pause and take a deep breath before I said something unkind that I’d regret later.

“Your nephew is the kindest man I’ve ever met,” I said instead of rising to the bait. “I really wish you would be willing to see that about him,” I added.

“What? ‘Cause he threw some money at a chair?” William asked, waving at the electric wheelchair that was charging beside him.

“Because he saw a need and acted on it,” I corrected. “Caretaking isn’t really about the money. There’s no sum that would make someone do it if they didn’t want to. Levee cares. Even if you make it difficult.”

“Just saying that because you’re fuck—“

“Don’t,” I cut him off, “finish that sentence. And don’t cheapen the relationship I have with Levee. I really don’t think you mean to. Mean is just… knee-jerk to you. From what I hear, it ran in the family. Until it ran into Levee.”

William could do nothing but harrumph to that, since he knew it was the truth.

I genuinely didn’t think William was the asshole he so often came off as.

My mom used to say that what people first think—or say, in the case of people with no filters like William—was what you were conditioned to think or say. And that the second thought was what you truly thought and who you genuinely were.

I’d always liked that insight because no matter how I tried, there were times when the first thought that came to mind was an ungracious one. It made me feel better to realize that the thought that immediately followed it was a correction, was who I really was.

And William had clearly shown moments of decency. If only he could let his pride go, could break the cycle of abuse he’d been around his whole life. And, well, you know, learn not to be ignorant.

Maybe it was too much to ask, but I had a lot of faith in people.

“Do you like it here, William?” I asked, looking over at him in his shabby apartment that hadn’t seen an update in thirty-some- odd years in a neighborhood that Levee said only seemed to be getting more dangerous as more people fell on hard times.

“It’s home, ain’t it?”

“But do you like it?”

“What’s it matter if I like it or not? It’s where I’m stuck.”

“But if you weren’t stuck. If you could move somewhere else, would you?”

“Suppose so.”

“What would you like to be different?”

“Guess I’d like to be somewhere quieter. Noise all day and night here.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Though I kind of enjoyed the activity.

“I want a bungalow somewhere,” I confessed.

“Yeah? What’s the use in dreaming? Ain’t gonna have it.”

That was where he was wrong.

I would have it.

So I was going to go ahead and keep on dreaming.

And if that dream suddenly involved having Levee in that little bungalow with me, then so what?

For the time being, though, I had to keep hopping between my place and the clubhouse so I could take care of my fish. And, you know, not leave my apartment empty for too long, since that kind of thing got noticed in a rough area.

That said, the wheels were in motion.

I was about to send Zayn his commissioned art. And I’d already been in touch with Teddy’s associate about the hotel.

Maybe it wouldn’t be just a dream for much longer.

Levee - 3 months

“You’re a lucky fuck, man,” Cato said, nodding as we stood at the curb in front of the house I’d just bought.

He was right about that.

The thing was, with being a member of the club, you had to live somewhat close to the clubhouse. And it wasn’t really an area where you found bungalows. Let alone one big enough to eventually have a family in. Especially if that family involved the ‘litter’ of kids Jade had been very clear about wanting.

I hadn’t given kids that much thought before her. The more I saw her with kids now, the more I wanted to see her with one of my kids.

I could picture it right in the house I now had the keys to. Coming home to see her in the front covered porch, rocking a baby like I’d seen her do with other babies countless times before.

Or walking in to find her sitting at a canvas in her art room, the sun streaming in through a myriad of suncatchers, casting rainbows across her skin and hair.

I could see both of us sitting at the table in the dining room, watching the chaos as four small children chattered and laughed.

“Though I don’t know why the fuck you would want to stick your uncle in the guest house.”

It wasn’t exactly my idea.

The longer Jade and I dated, the more she got involved in the caretaking of my Uncle Will. And because Jade had the heart the size of a blue whale’s, it made her want to do more and more for him, even when he was nasty to her.

To her credit, the more she worked at him, the more my uncle’s sharp edges softened. And, amazingly, the more he actually wanted to start taking care of himself. Hell, she actually had the man eating the fruit that I’d been bringing—and then throwing away—for years.

Because of all the improvement, she’d been dropping hints at the idea of having Uncle Will closer, so we could keep a closer eye on him.

While I would never want Uncle Will in my actual house, I was alright with the idea of him staying in the guest house. It would certainly make it easier to take care of him.

It wasn’t a big guest house. The real estate agent had referred to it as a “granny pod,” and said the previous owners had installed it for the same reason I would need it for. Taking care of an aging relative. It was basically one big room—living, kitchen, and bed all in one—with an oversized bathroom that was handicap equipped. It even had one of those no lip bathtubs, so you could roll a manual wheelchair right into, if necessary.

I was really fucking lucky to find this property. And then to win the nail-biting bidding war.

In the end, money talks, though. And I had more than enough of it, thanks to years of making a nice salary while having almost no living expenses.

“So, when are you going to tell her?” Seeley, at my other side, asked.

“Once we get it cleaned up,” I told them.

It was perfectly livable.

But Jade had been dreaming of this place for a long time. I wanted to get some of the overgrown weeds and shrubs cleaned up. Maybe fill the garden beds with some gorgeous, colorful flowers. Get the floors inside refinished because the tile was chipped enough in places that I was worried one of us might cut our feet if we went barefoot. Everything inside needed a fresh coat of primer. Then it would be ready for Jade to pick out paint colors.

Objectively, yeah, we were still kind of new, in the grand scheme of things. But we hadn’t spent a full twenty-four hours apart since that night I picked her up from Teddy’s place. And, frankly, I never wanted to. Having a home we could both move into that was close to the clubhouse was the easiest solution.

And the first step toward forever.

Jade - 5 months

“Where are you, doll?” Levee called, the screen door cracking against the frame as he spoke. “Gotta get that fixed,” he grumbled.

“Don’t you dare,” I called, looking over my shoulder as he walked into the dining room where I was painting a mural on the wall.

It was a big endeavor that stretched the whole room from just above the board and batten and to the ceiling. But it was a true labor of love. And it featured a bunch of little nods to our relationships, to the found family we both loved so much, to the hopes for our future.

“Don’t I dare what?” Levee asked, stepping into the rounded doorway looking as sexy as ever in a white t-shirt that was sticking to his skin underneath, thanks to the unexpected rain shower that had started to pelt at the windows a couple minutes before.

“Fix that door. I love that noise,” I told him, angling my head up for a kiss.

“You love all the broken things around here,” he said, reaching out to frame my face with both his hands, then kissing me long and sweet. Until I felt it in my toes.

“It’s what gives a home character. I knew exactly what steps in my childhood home creaked. Which came in handy when I was sneaking in after staying out too late. Or how to fiddle with that one tap that didn’t ever want to work right, but we never fixed. Or the chew marks in the molding from our childhood dog. It’s those things that make a house a home.”

“I’d like to come to think about it like that,” Levee said. “The ‘quirks’ my apartment had growing up weren’t the kind of things that would make me nostalgic.”

And I really wanted to be able to help him feel that way about our new home and all of its sweet imperfections.

After all he’d been through, and all he’d done for others without expecting anything in return, he deserved some magic, some joy, someone to try to take care of him for a change.

Which was why there was a hearty stew in the crockpot, even if the air conditioning was running at full-blast, and a surprise waiting for him in the bedroom.

“We have about two hours until dinner is done,” I told him, sticking my paintbrush into the water, deciding the mural was just going to have to wait. “And I have something fun in the bedroom.”

“Does this something fun vibrate?” he asked, smirking.

“After what you did to me with the remote control vibe panties? I think not,” I said, slapping him across the chest.

But we both knew that, as torturous as it had been to wear those vibrator panties to the clubhouse during a big, loud party with the remote in his hand, I wouldn’t change the memory of him watching me hiding behind a tree, legs shaking as the orgasm ripped through my system, for anything.

“But your clothes do have to be off for this,” I told him, looking to the back of the house to make sure the curtains were drawn before I whipped off my shirt, leaving me bare from the waist up.

“I have no objections to that,” he said, peeling off his own drenched shirt as I moved past him, kicking out of my slides, then hooking my fingers into the waistband of my skirt.

I waited until I was in the doorway of the bedroom to push the skirt off, leaving me in nothing but a bright yellow thong that I knew his gaze was taking in greedily.

“Pants off,” I demanded, turning to watch him as I slid my panties down as well.

He did as he was told. Then tossed his underwear off for good measure.

He had no idea what I had in mind, but he was already hard in anticipation.

I took a step to the side, waving toward the floor.

“What is this?” he asked, brows pinched as he took in the massive piece of canvas set up on a blue tarp and surrounded by several containers of washable paint.

“Well, you know how we have this stupidly large wall above our bed?” I said, waving toward it.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over. “Are we painting something for it?” he asked, knowing that I hadn’t found anything I liked that was big enough for the space.

“In a way,” I said, smirking as I walked backward toward the canvas. “We are going to make some abstract art.”

“But you don’t really like abstract art.”

“Not normally, no,” I agreed. “But this is abstract art we are going to be making with our bodies.”

“What? Like ass and tit prints?” he asked, making me snicker.

“Probably some of that, sure,” I agreed, grabbing two colors of paint and pouring each onto a throw away plate so I could smear my hands into it. “But we are going to put our hands in paint—mine pink and purple, yours black and gold—and we are going to get down onto this canvas and make love. And see what kind of art we make during it.”

I never saw Levee move so fast.

His hands were in the paint and then on me in moments.

Then we spent the next hour lost in each other. Until we’d rolled off onto the cold blue tarp, panting, and looking over at the art we’d made.

“Now, every time someone comes into the bedroom, they’re gonna see it,” Levee said, eyes bright.

“It’s fun to have little secrets,” I told him as I reached for his hand then walked with him to the shower, where we scrubbed each other clean before dinner.

Each day we spent together, the more I couldn’t wait to spend more with him.