Chapter 13

13

Natalie

Clanging noises echo through my house, and I swallow hard, trying to calm my nerves as I mark the English papers in front of me, kind of hating that a pipe burst at school and that we’ve been given the day off.

Being stuck in a house with the man who tore my heart to pieces is so goddamn difficult I’m struggling to concentrate.

Three days—that’s how long Piston has been here—seriously, he’s not left. Even when I went to work, I asked him if he was leaving, and all the idiot did was smirk and go into the kitchen, where he has been fixing everything that needs fixing.

It turns out Bulldozer's sister is the one who owns the house, so Piston informed him he’ll fix it up, and the man agreed.

I’ve only met Bulldozer twice, and both times, he was a sweet teddy bear, so it's kind of hard to want to hurt that man for thrusting Piston back into my daily life after trying to distance myself.

I keep picturing kneeing him in the balls, then I instantly feel bad.

“Fuck’s sake,” I hear Piston grumble, and I wince, before the clanging of metal can be heard again.

The bathroom sink has been blocked for two days, and the shower leaks continuously. He’s already fixed the garbage disposal, the dishwasher, the leaky tap, the five broken tiles around the stove, and the outdoor light.

The man has been on a mission since I woke up on the couch to hear him whispering and joking with Cooper while making pancakes and bacon. Since then, he’s been around, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

He hasn’t even been sleeping on the couch. I’ll fall asleep alone, cuddling the pillow, but I'll wake in the morning to the left side of the bed messy and warm.

The ass has been sneaking into my bed, and last night, I locked my door to try and keep him out, and again, the bed was warm when I woke after, probably, the best night's sleep in years.

I glared at him when I found him walking out of my shower in nothing but a towel, and all he did was smirk.

Jackass.

“Diamond, how in the fuck did you get a fucking plastic lid stuck in the drain?” Piston shouts from upstairs, making me look up the stairs with both eyebrows raised.

“Huh, so that’s where my deodorant lid went,” I mumble to myself, then shrug, and shout back innocently, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

I hear him curse, and I grin.

I like to think this is payback for him being such an ass to me; I mean, I didn’t exactly expect to fall pregnant, since we used condoms, and I certainly didn’t order him to marry me and give me his cut, his club did, so his anger has been misplaced for so fricking long.

I kept to our agreement; I only messaged him to tell him about the baby because I thought he had a right to know. I mean, how in the hell was I to know he was going to marry me out of obligation?

Shaking my head, I grab the next English paper, wincing at the misspelled name on top.

Come on, Connie! The girl is cute but doesn’t ever apply herself to her work.

Since Piston has been around, I’ve done my best to ignore him, giving him the same treatment he’s given me since we got married. I needed him, and I get it, I didn’t tell him about the miscarriage, but he still could have ensured I was alright when I stated the test was false. Instead, he treated me like I betrayed him, like I forced this life on him.

I didn’t ask for this, and I know he didn’t either, but he didn’t need to push me out the way he did, especially when we could have been friends at least, despite my feelings for him. We were friends in college, before we agreed to go our separate ways.

I sigh, hating that I’ve gone back down the rabbit hole.

For over two years, I put him and our past in a box, trying to live my life as normally as possible despite our once-a-month hookup, where I rarely got off because the ass was punishing me with his misguided anger. Having him around now, it brings everything back; hurt, anger, love, lust, it all consumes me, and I hate it.

I don’t know how much longer I can take this until I explode….

I’ve just finished grading my fifth paper when someone bangs on my door, and I furrow my brows wondering if Piston has called for help. He’s come downstairs three times, shaking his head, grabbing a drink, and shaking his head again before disappearing upstairs, mumbling something about hairclips.

My bad….

Wonder if I can clog the toilet up somehow….

The banging intensifies when I take too long to answer, and I quickly rush to the door and open it only to be shoved into the wall, my shoulder hitting it hard, making me gasp.

Christy gets in my face, her green eyes glaring at me with fury.

Great.

“Where in the fuck is my son?” she demands, and I just raise a brow, not at all intimidated.

I answer sarcastically, “Well, considering it’s two thirty in the afternoon, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say at school.”

Her nostrils flare, and she threatens, “Don’t get snarky with me, you little bitch, or I’ll rearrange your face like I should have done years ago.”

I snort and shove her away before moving myself behind her, ensuring she can’t enter my home any further. I cross my arms over my chest and state, “I would love for you to try, please, oh, please hit me, then I can say it was self-defense….”

Her face goes red, not happy that her treats are disregarded.

I’m not a child anymore and, honestly, I wish she had left visible marks growing up. Then, maybe I would have been taken from her and Henry.

She looks down at me, her eyes taking in my attire—leggings and, yes, Piston’s shirt, because men’s clothes are comfier. Distaste sours her expression, before her eyes widen when they zero in on my wedding ring.

Ah, here we go….

Her eyes shoot to mine in shock, and she snaps, “When in the fuck did you get married, and does your father know?”

I roll my eyes, because he clearly doesn’t. and snarl, “Over two years ago. Now, why don’t you do us both a favor and get lost? Cooper's not here; he’s at school.”

Her nostrils flare, remembering why she’s here—classic shitty mother right here—and she growls, “I told you to stay the fuck away from my son, Natalie!”

I nod. “You did, didn’t you, and yet if I had, then he’d be in state care right now because you’re an abusive bitch. So count your blessings.”

She takes a menacing step toward me, and I brace myself, ready to hit her back if she swings for me. Instead, she suddenly threatens, “If you don’t stay away from my son, I’ll find your husband, and I’ll fuck him, too. We both know he’ll prefer me, Chris did….”

I raise a brow at her threat.

Chris was an idiot who couldn’t find a woman’s G-spot. Piston, well, he wouldn’t touch her if she was the last person on Earth. Don’t get me wrong, I know he likes to watch the clubwhores get each other off, but he’ll never touch them, he’ll never cheat.

It was the one thing he refused to do during our college hookups. He has morals, and sharing someone is not one of them.

Speaking of Piston….

I feel his presence behind me before his front touches my back, his left arm wrapping around my waist, and for the first time in a long time, I lean my body against him, giving him some of my weight.

Christy’s eyes instantly take him in, and the look she’s giving him makes my blood run cold. Lust oozes off her as she bites her bottom lip, and just seeing that look makes me feel dirty.

Her eyes zero in on his cut, noticing it hanging up, and she focuses on his patches before she looks his way again, her eyes lighting up, and the feeling that builds consumes me.

The thought of her even looking at him makes me furious.

He’s mine, not hers, mine!

This is the feeling I should have had with Chris when I caught them together, but it wasn’t. He was “safe” because I didn’t want a commitment, and deep down, I knew he wouldn’t commit, proving my theory that relationships suck.

“Keep looking at my husband that way, and I’m going to break your fucking nose, and then send that video to my father, Christy!” I snap. For Christ's sake, her eyes have darkened in greed.

Piston tightens his arm around me while Christy’s eyes shoot to mine. She smirks, thinking she’s got one on me. She clearly thinks my husband would stray, which is the one thing I’m certain he’ll never do despite our situation.

“Stay away from my son, and I’ll stay away from your husband,” she threatens, causing Piston to growl, his chest rumbling against my back.

I gently place my left hand on his arm and raise a brow at Christy. “My husband, Step-monster,” her nostrils flare, “wouldn’t touch you if you were the last person alive. Now, do yourself a favor and leave before I say ‘screw it’ and send the video anyway, and I can guarantee, with the prenup paperwork I found, you’ll lose everything.”

She goes pale, opening her mouth so speak, but Piston beats her to it, stating coldly, “I allowed my wife to handle this her way. Now I’ll handle it mine; get the fuck outta our home before I throw you out.”

She flinches at his coldness before sending me one last glare, then turns and stomps out of my house.

I sigh in relief when I hear her car tires screech, and relax in Piston's hold for a moment.

I feel him kiss my head before he asks, “What video?”

Ah, double crap….

Swallowing hard, I move myself out of his hold, making him scowl, but I just shake my head. My eyes take in his low-riding jeans and bare chest, and now I understand why Christy looked ready to pounce….

Jeez!

Clearing my throat, I admit, “I caught her screwing my high school boyfriend the day I left for college. He was my whole high school experience and my first. You were my second….”

His eyes widen in shock. “That’s why you were okay with a fling,” he confirms.

I admit, “Partially. My birth mother dumping me on a doorstep and my father choosing his wife over his daughter was the other reason.” I sigh. “I was never in love with Chris. I cared for him and thought love might grow, but when I caught them, I wasn’t hurt; I was just angry that I didn’t catch on sooner. I think, deep down, I chose to be with Chris because I knew he wasn’t the commitment type, even though I tried to convince myself otherwise.”

Piston shakes his head. “You didn’t want to think your childhood dictated your relationships.”

I nod. “But they did anyway, otherwise, why else would I have accepted a no-strings fling with you for three years?”

He smiles. “Because I’m perfect.”

I laugh, shake my head, and mumble, “Uh huh….”

Smirking, he checks his watch, and then says, “I’m going to go pick up Cooper. Are you all right with me taking your car?”

I give nod, and he moves past me to the small bowl on the table near the front door, grabbing my keys before walking back to me and pressing a kiss to my head, making my heart flip.

No, no, bad heart, no flipping….

“For what it’s worth,” he whispers, “your childhood hasn’t dictated your relationships Nat, because, yeah, we had a casual fling in college, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with me, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself.”

I suck in a breath at his words, and he kisses my head again before grabbing his cut, putting it on sans shirt, and walking out the front door.

I don’t move, even after hearing him drive off.

How in the hell did he know?

Trying to swallow past the lump forming in my throat, I manage to get my feet to move and walk into the kitchen to start dinner, knowing Coop will be hungry. All the while, I try to harden my heart again, willing it to stop wishing things were different.

Our past is too messy, and my childhood still haunts me, threatening any potential future.

Piston and I were supposed to end over two years ago, and as soon as I can convince Steal to allow us to divorce without Piston losing his patch, we’ll go our separate ways, and he can find someone who he’ll trust 100%, who he won’t accuse of trying to trap him, believing the worst and me. And I’ll try to open my cold, dead, unlovable heart….