Page 41 of Rome
King called as I was leaving the clinic, letting me know that Abby had texted him early this morning, to tell him that she was starting her maternity leave immediately.
“I tried to call to check on her, but she sent the call to voicemail.” He sounded worried, so I assured him that Amelia was looking after her. I told him that she’d asked me to leave for now.
“I know, son. Sinner called me last night. I’m not surprised, but I had hoped it wouldn’t fuckin’ come to that. Give her some time, and I know you two can work this shit out. I’ve never seen two people more in love, outside of my folks. Don’t give up on her, and don’t you fuckin’ dare let her give up on you.” His tone was fierce as he ordered me to straighten shit out.
“I’ll work this out, believe me. I’m gonna try to get us in for counseling.”
“That’s good, that’s really good. Get somebody to help you through it. You planning to get help for your drinking? You know that’s the root of the fuckin’ problem here,” he said gruffly.
“Yeah, I know, and I will.” I ended the call and slipped my phone into the inside pocket of my cut. I swung my leg over the seat of my bike, and fired it up, the rumble of the pipes soothing me just a little bit, as it usually did.
As soon as I got to the shop, I left a message for the marriage counselor that Brick had recommended. I hoped the woman was open-minded so having a biker for a client wouldn’t freak her the fuck out.
I ducked into the restroom to dab the concealer over the hickey. I had to wash it off and start over when I put way too much on the first time. Abby made it look so easy to apply makeup, although I preferred her fresh face. I now had a whole new appreciation for the effort it took to make that shit look natural.
The therapist returned my call ten minutes later, I gave her the highlights of what went down, making it clear that it was completely, one hundred percent my fault.
“My drinking has been a problem for a while now, but I thought I had it under control. It’s pretty obvious that I was wrong, so I’m gonna need some help with that, too”
“I’m a licensed marriage and family therapist, but I’ve also had training in addiction recovery, as addictions of all kinds often contribute to the breakdown of relationships. If I don’t feel I’m the best fit for helping you in your recovery, I can recommend some therapists who specialize in the field.” She went on to ask a few questions – how long we’d been married, if we had kids – and then I had one of my own.
“I need to be upfront about something. I’m a member of the 5thCircle Guardians MC, so if that’s gonna be a problem for you, I don’t think this will work out.” The last thing we needed was some uptight bitch judging us based on my cut, instead of giving us the help that we needed.
“Oh,” she said, and I could hear the surprise in her voice. “I must admit I don’t know much about the lifestyle, so I will probably have questions as it pertains to your relationship with your wife, and to your alcohol abuse. As long as you’re willing and able to be open with me, it won’t be an issue.”
“I can do that,” I agreed. We set up an appointment for Thursday at nine o’clock, and I could only hope I could get Abby to agree to speak with me by then. If not, well, I’d be doing marriage counseling on my own to help me figure out how to fix this.
It was hard to keep my mind on my work, but we were slammed with appointments, so that helped. With Pic on suspension, at least I didn’t have to worry about him getting in my damned face again about Cyn.
Dax was off since he’d worked all weekend, but Saint and Lacey gave me a wide berth. Based on the shitty looks she sent my way a couple of times, it was clear Saint had clued her in about what I’d done. Lacey adored my wife and was clearly pissed as hell at me on her behalf. I didn’t blame her.
I was applying antibiotic ointment on a client who’d needed the old ink on his bicep touched up, when my text chime went off. I quickly wrapped up his arm, ran through the aftercare instructions, then sent him up to the front to check out with Lacey.
I stripped off my black, nitrile gloves with a snap and dropped them in the biomedical waste bin, then picked up my phone to read the text.
AMELIA: Can you be here at 7:30 to get E ready for bed? She doesn’t want to see you and wants you to pretend that you had to work late. You’ll leave once he’s asleep.
Dammit! I was happy to see my son, but I wanted to see Abby and get a chance to talk to her face-to-face.
ME: I’ll be there.
A few hours later, I pulled into the garage like normal, then took a deep breath before opening the back door and stepping inside. I was met by Ethan, who was excited to have me home since he hadn’t seen me in almost three days. He was fresh from the shower, wearing his pajamas that had the Harley-Davidson logo all over them. I hugged him tight and had to fight the urge to cry when his little arms wrapped around my neck and squeezed. Damn, I felt like a pussy for admitting it, but I didn’t realize how badly I needed a hug until right that very moment.
Movement in the living room caught my eye, but I was disappointed to find that it was just Amelia.
“She’s upstairs reading,” she whispered, while Ethan was occupied with finding his tennis shoes for school the next morning. “She won’t come out of the bedroom until you leave.”
I tried to act like my damned heart wasn’t aching in my chest as I read E his story and tucked him into bed.
“Do you hafta’ work late tomorrow night, too?”
“I’m afraid so, buddy. Uncle Pic is off work for a few weeks, so I’m extra busy taking care of his stuff, too. I’ll try to be home in time to put you to bed again if I can.” I could only hope that Abby would let me stop by again, even if she still wasn’t ready to talk yet.
I hung around for a half-hour after putting Ethan to bed, using the excuse that I wanted to make sure he was asleep before I left. Amelia just raised a brow at me. I wasn’t fooling her a bit. She was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when I’d come downstairs after reading to Ethan, so I helped her finish the dishes, then swept the floor, wiped down the stove, and took the trash out before I left.
I rode around for a while, and by the time I pulled into Sinner’s driveway, the lack of sleep was catching up to me. I managed to sleep for about six hours, waking up a little after five in the morning. Even though I was still tired, once I was awake, I couldn’t shut my brain off. I finally got out of bed and trudged down to the basement. There was still a universal machine and weight bench down there, that he’d put in years ago when Lucky had lived here.
I spent over an hour lifting weights until my arms felt like limp noodles, and doing leg presses until my thigh muscles were screaming at me. After my shower, I made a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs. Sinner wandered into the kitchen as I was putting my dirty plate in the dishwasher.
