Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Samuel,” Grace said, covering my hand with hers and offering me a small reassuring smile that was anything but reassuring. “You don’t have to fix this right now. You don’t have to make it better. We will think of something.” Her tone sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.
We were talking about Max. King’s baby girl who’d been tossed into the system the second he was put in cuffs. The three of us had been trying everything we could think of to get her out and home with one of us, but the state is fickle as shit. Apparently, they didn’t want to give an infant over to a biker, a degenerate, or a sickly elderly woman.
Damn the man.
Bear’s knuckles were white as he flipped a napkin ring from one hand to another, snapping the plastic with a growl. He flung it across the table, shooting Grace an apologetic look before dropping his face into his hands.
I slammed my hand down on the table, rattling the pitcher of Grace’s famous mojitos, finally drawing their attentions out of their own asses and up to me. “All right. It’s been decided.” I reached out and squeezed Bear’s hand like Grace had squeezed mine, and he retracted it like I’d given him a severe case of the cooties. “We are just gonna have to get gay-married.”
“Shut the fuck up, Prep,” Bear grumbled, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray and trying to swipe me across the side of the head, but I was too quick, dodging him before he had a chance to make contact.
“Boys,” Grace warned, although my words seem to have the affect I was looking for because the corners of her mouth turned upward, her frown straightening into a line. A tiny bit of the light in her eyes returning as she naturally fell into her roll in our crazy lives.
Her roll as our mom.
“Bear, at least pretend you care about this shit,” I said, watching Grace out of the corner of my eye as her shoulders relaxed and she settled back into her chair with her drink. “I mean, look at you, motherfucker! For Christ’s sake, they aren’t going to give us King’s baby if my man-husband won’t even put on a god damned shirt!” I pointed to Bear, who hadn’t worn a shirt under his cut since the day he turned prospect for the Beach Bastards. Seriously, you’d think the guy was allergic or something.
“What are you talking about? I’m totally covered,” Bear said, looking down and adjusting his cut to cover his left nipple, exposing the right one in the process.
I rolled my eyes. “Tattoos don’t fucking count,” I said, and that’s when I heard Grace’s small laugh and inwardly, my own shoulders fell.
“Sure they do,” Bear said, patting the ink on his abs with both hands as if it somehow proved his point.
“Samuel,” Grace said, sounding a little tired. “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, we live in the south, dear, they haven’t quite embraced the idea of gay marriage here just yet.”
I stood from the table and paced up and down the three steps leading from the deck to the yard and back again. Of course I knew that gay marriage wasn’t legal in the south, and I knew that the idea was fucking ridiculous, but I was willing to spew just about anything to come up with a solution. Not to mention, that someone needed to thin out the thick cloud of dread looming over our little family.
“Samuel, we will think of something. It will just take time,” Grace reassured me. I looked down at her and took hold of her outstretched hand, bending down I pulled her into a hug and she wrapped her tiny arms around my waist. She smelled like peppermint and the potpourri she always kept out on the table in the living room that I might have mistaken for trail mix once or twice.
Or six times.
“We’ve got this, Grace,” Bear said, echoing my thoughts. Although, he didn’t sound as convinced as I was.
I squatted down next to Grace “We will just have to be a little more…creative.”
Grace patted my cheek. “You’re a good boy, Samuel,” she said, and if I was a dog my tail would be wagging so fast it would’ve fallen right off. “Oh, and before I forget, don’t forget to check in on Mirna like I asked. She’s been more off than usual lately and I want to make sure she’s looked after while I’m away.”
“You got it,” I said, planting one last kiss on her forehead and standing up, straightening the crease in my pants. Mirna’s house was one of the first Granny Growhouses in our operation. Plus, she made these amazing chocolate chip cookies that were so fucking good, I’ve seriously thought about rubbing them all over my nuts. “I’m going today, actually,” I assured her.