Crash & Burn (12 page)

“It’s a boy,” Gin says with steel determination. He’s pretty fucking sure of himself.

“No! No fuckin’ girls. You have a girl, we might go crazy tryin’ to keep the dicks
away from her when she’s sixteen if she looks like you did in high school.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. You two seen Tank around then?” Of course they all shake their heads.
Everyone still seems to avoid all topics that have anything to do with Tank or I.

“Fine. I’ll find him myself.” I don’t bother pushing for more, that’s all I’m getting.

             
             
             
             
             
****

             
Pulling my Jeep into Tanks driveway, I feel a little unsure and nervous all of a sudden.
Fifteen minutes ago when I left the club, I was brave and sure of myself. I was going
to leave my feelings and emotions at the door and go in there and talk to him like
an adult. Now I feel a little queasy. I’d decided I should tell him about my next
doctor’s appointment. He wants to be included and he’s trying, so I thought it’d be
nice to have him there. Sitting in his driveway, I let the shitty worry work its way
back up. What if he doesn’t want to go? What if he’s not interested? If he says no,
I might cry and then kill him. I don’t think I could handle that right now, so I stuff
down my fear and remind myself that this is for my baby, and my feelings don’t matter.

             
Walking up to the front door, I knock on the frame. It’s strange to knock. I used
to just walk right in and kick my shoes off and throw my purse on the couch. It feels
wrong to knock when this used to be my house too. The front door’s open, but the screen
door’s closed, so I knock again, but get nothing. Faintly I can hear some banging
and a drill?

“Tank?” Still I get nothing. I came all this way and worked up my nerve so I’m not
leaving now. Sticking my head inside I yell for him.

“Tank?” Taking a few steps inside, a pang of sadness hits my stomach. I feel fucking
homesick. A deep sense of nostalgia tugs on my heart ‘cause I miss this house. I miss
being here. The living room looks exactly the same, and a single tear hits my cheek
when I see my boots still sitting by the side door. He hasn’t gotten rid of anything.
It’s all exactly the same. God it’s like it’s all waiting for me. Being in here makes
me long for when I lived here, when this was my house too.

Walking down the hall I call for him again. “Tank?”

“Yeah babe. Back here.”

His deep gruff voice makes me smile. It’s a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. I
follow the banging and his voice down the hall to the spare room. Looking inside I
find Tank crouched down and he’s putting together a … crib? A fucking crib. Jesus
Christ, it’s a crib. It’s big and black and fucking perfect. Instantly the tears start.
Fucking pregnancy hormones are turning me into a sad ass mess. Goddamn crib.

             
“Hey babe, you alright?” He jumps right up and makes his way to me, concern worn all
over his handsome face.

“What’s wrong Lil?” his hands are on my sides pulling me closer. Shaking my head I
wipe those goddamn tears away and step back. I can’t be this close to him when he’s
building my baby a crib. Why does he have to be so goddamn sweet when I still want
to hate him?

“I’m fine,” I sniffle like a loser.

Touching my stomach softly, he looks into my eyes. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” I lie. I lie like an asshole. I’m not good, I’m a mess of pathetic
pregnant hormones.

“What the fuck’s the tears about?”

“That
thing
.” I wave my hand toward that thing, that goddamn crib. I can’t look at it and I don’t
want to talk about it. Stupid crib is making me cry. Stupid hormones and stupid crib.

“The crib. Is it wrong? Shit! Baby if it’s not right, I’ll buy whatever fuckin’ crib
you want.” He looks heartbroken suddenly and completely unsure and now I feel like
a bitch. These motherfucking hormones are going to kill me. God and he’s being so
fucking sweet. Damn it all to hell.

“No, the crib is fine.”

“Then why the fuck you cryin’ at me? What’s goin’ on baby?”

I can’t look at his face. I can’t look at him looking at me with love, concern and
care. I can’t be in
his
house looking at that
crib
while
he
builds it for
our
baby. I can’t do this.

“I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in two weeks. You can come if you want to.” I barely
choke out. I turn and walk out before I do something I’ll regret, like start crying,
or climbing him like a tree.

I can’t do this shit anymore. I want to give up and give in so fucking bad.

Crazy

Tank

             
Sitting at the bar with Stitch, we’re talking about adding some new brothers when
a loud, “Fuck!” Followed by a crash that has us both out of our seats, on our feet,
and in that office so goddamn fast I’m surprised Stitch didn’t spill his beer.

“What the fuck you doin’?” Ripping through the door, I almost trip over a tipped over
box. There are papers everywhere, a bottle of bleach and some paper towels. Lil’s
sitting on the office floor in a mess. A serious annoyed pout on those plump lips
and the death scowl on that face.

“Nothing’.” She snaps up at me.

“Don’t look like nothing’. You need a hand?”

“Not from you.” She grumbles. Thought we were getting past the hate? Apparently not,
because she’s throwing it out at me with her eyes.

“You got an issue with me?” Stupid question really. Hell yeah, she’s got an issue
with me. She always does.

“
Issues?
Yeah Tank I’ve got issues with you.” Throwing a hand out, I allow princess to go on
with her attitude.

“Care to elaborate.” Standing up, she grumbles at me.

“
Your
baby is killin’ my back. I can’t lift shit anymore. And I’m tryin’ to clean this nasty,
dirty whore infested office.” With a stomp she slams past me, elbow in my side, and
out the door.
My
baby? Stitch looks at me and back at the door Lil’s feisty ass just stomped through.

“Pregnancy makes her bitchy.” Stitch points out with wide scared eyes.

Fuck yes it does.

             
This is how my life has been, full of an emotional ass woman. Lil doesn’t give me
much time, and the time I get is usually full of crazy. It’s like she saves that shit
up just for me. I’m talking crazy, crazy. Not her usual crazy, this is a whole new
special brand. Nine times outta ten she’s yelling at me, blaming me for something,
or calling the baby
mine.
My guess is when the baby is doing something she doesn’t like, it belongs to me.

I’m not gonna lie, I still fucking like it when she says
your baby
. At least she’s acknowledging me. At the very least, she’s including me. As pathetic
as that makes me, I just don’t fucking care. As long as she’s including me somehow,
I’ll take it.

And every once in a while I get tears from her. Those usually come after she’s yelled
at me and then she says it’s my ‘sad eyes’ that make her feel guilty and then she
cries. No fucking clue what ‘sad eyes’ are, but I guess I have them and they make
her fucking crazy. If she was any other bitch, this shit wouldn’t fly. But for me,
some attitude is sure the fuck better than nothing from her, but don’t let those tears
fool you. They last five seconds before she’s right back to screaming at me, throwing
and breaking shit, and giving attitude to every person within ear shot. Mean Lil is
now my reality, but fuck it, I’ll take it.

****

             
“The Jeeps makin’ this ‘
clink, clunk, tink’
noise.” Lil says, shoving her keys at me. I try hard not to laugh, but it’s not easy.

“Could you make that noise again babe?”

Slapping my chest hard she says, “You’re an asshole.”

“Gotcha’, you’ve told me enough, I know.”

“So … can you look at it for me?” She barks at me, arms crossed under those big tits
of hers. Does she really think she needs to ask me that shit? My ass has never been
able to tell her no. Fixing her Jeep is no exception.

Oh, now she’s getting extra annoyed as she shifts, putting her hand on her hip, and
starts to tap her foot impatiently. Today she seems to be filled with a little extra
fire.

“I don’t know. Can I?” Yep extra fire. Spinning around with her hair flyin’, she glares.
Narrowing those brown eyes, she kills me with those babies. Probably shouldn’t poke
the angry mama bear, but I just can’t help myself. Fuck I miss her. I miss her so
much I’ll take her crazy like a starving fucking man.

             
“Don’t fuck with me today,
Roman
.” Yeah she’s in a fucking mood. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give just to bend her ass over
the tool bench and drive home. Balls smacking against her ass, hands in hair. Fuck
…

“Broke out the name I see, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.” She spits, giving her eyes a good roll. Like me calling her that
is fucking absurd. But how fucking wrong she is.

“The fuck you aren’t. Six feet under … Nah, not even then. You’re mine Lil, forever
and always. Get fucking used to it.”

“Fuck! You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, well at least I’m not fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

Her retreating back, finger in the air, and a “Fuck you!” Is what I’m left with. I’ve
got to be as fucking crazy if not more than her, because that shit just makes me smile.
I love that fire. I love it so goddamn much.

****

             
Dodging the pelting rain, I head into Gin’s without a knock. He called me over here
in a hurry, he’s not getting a fucking courtesy knock.

“What the fuck took you so long?”

“Puttin’ one of those dresser changing things together. Stupid piece of shit.”

“Not workin’ out for you, Handy Tank?”

“Shut the fuck up. You know that shit is so goddamn cheap. Not havin’ my baby in that
shit. I’ll just build one.”

“Come on man the mess is in the garage.”

We pushed around a shit ton of boxes, all full of Peaches shit. That bitch is a fucking
pack rat. No doubt that garage will be filled right the fuck back up in a few weeks.

“I need a beer or something.”

Walking into the kitchen, that hardened piece of meat in my chest stutters. I can
feel her. That shit is physical. Lil’s sitting on the kitchen counter, feet swinging,
smile on her beautiful fucking face. I can see my baby today. She’s wearing a tight
white shirt with her arms folded over that tiny stomach, just resting there. I have
to remind myself to keep my hands to myself. I have to remind myself to keep to myself.
Fuck it.

             
Taking two steps into the kitchen, she notices me. Her big browns snap up to me and
there’s no glare, no eye roll this time. I can’t stop myself. That’s all the invitation
I need. Today she doesn’t completely fucking hate me. I don’t know why I fucking do
it, I’m sure it’s probably sheer stupidity, or it could be the lack of blood in my
brain that had relocated to my dick from just from seeing her. Might be the desperation.
I just can’t keep my hands to myself. I need to touch her. I need that shit like oxygen.

             
Pushing between those thick thighs, I go for a cup I have no goddamn use for just
to get close to her, to feel her. She doesn’t push me away, but she doesn’t touch
me either. I can smell her. She smells sugary and sweet, just like I remember. I want
more. Fuck I need it so bad I can feel it. Wrapping that long soft hair around my
hand I bury my face in her neck. Skin on a little bit of skin. That small stomach
pressed into mine, I hold her to me. This is as much as I’ve gotten in months. Fuck,
I’ve needed this. Shit feels like home, where I should be.

             
Then I hear it. A soft quiet sob as her body shakes lightly against mine. I pushed
too far. I wished I felt bad about it, but I don’t. I just don’t fucking care. I needed
that shit.

“Please don’t,” she chokes out. That’s all I’m getting. Stepping back from her, I
see those dark eyes, tear filled and broken.

“Why?” Her voice is soft and strangled.

“Fuck Lil, I’m not sorry.” It’s all I can say, because I’m not fuckin’ sorry. I’ll
never be sorry for wanting to touch her. No goddamn way in hell I’ll ever be sorry
for loving my woman.

Pushing me away, she fixes the tears and gives me a lip curling glare. There’s that
hate.

Hopping off the counter, my stomach dips watching her do that shit. Fuck. I wish she
wouldn’t do that. She could fall or some shit. She’s trying to give me a heart attack.

“Be careful Lil. Damn.” And just like that it’s over. She’s no longer heartbroken,
she’s back to being mad at me. I opened my mouth and sweet sad Lil has left the motherfucking
building.

“Don’t tell me shit.”

“Baby, just worried about you hurting yourself.”

“No you’re not. You’re only worried about me hurtin’ the baby.” She can’t believe
that shit. She knows I love her. Fuck, if anything happened to either of them it’d
fucking kill me.

“That’s bullshit n’ you know it.”

“Do I?” She throws back at me. Those eyes are masked with mean, but there’s that heartbreak
in there too. It might be buried deep, but it’s there. She’s pretty fuckin’ good at
hiding that shit from me, but I’ve become better at seeing the hurt through all that
other shit. She might fool everyone around us, but not for one single fucking second
does she fool me. I know she’s hurt.

“Lil, you know I fuckin’ love you. I’ll love you ‘till the day I fuckin’ die. Don’t
ever doubt that shit. You might hate me right now n’ I fuckin’ get it, but that shit
doesn’t change how much I love your ass.”