EMILY
With that many cards in the spokes, it’s almost amazing that Liam can make his bike move at all. He puts all his weight on the pedals and forces it forwards to a rumble almost as loud as his fathers’ motorcycles. He’s so busy grinning up at us that even with the training wheels, he almost tips right over.
Then he rights up and tears across the front lot, weaving his way between the houses at the back of the compound where he’s not going to get in the way of any grown up bikes. It’s one of the hazards of growing up at the Screaming Eagles clubhouse, but Liam’s gotten good at going where I tell him to go, at least when he knows I’m watching.
The rest of the time?
Well, it’s good his dads are good at keeping an eye open for him too.
“Look at him fucking go,” says Wild Child, grinning almost as widely as Liam. It’s funny.
I’d thought that as Liam got older, I’d be able to figure out by resemblance which of my guys had been first to the finish line, but even now, at four years old, he finds a way to resemble all of them. He can brood like King, or burst with idealism like Hero, or just do something crazy enough to make me want to tear out my hair, just like Wild Child. Maybe we just learn to resemble those we grow up with, instead of it being just genetics.
I shudder at that thought. In some cases, I think we learn to not resemble them too. At least I hope so, given what my growing up was like.
King puts a hand on my upper arm and pulls me to him. “You’re nothing like him,” he murmurs, like the man always knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“I don’t think so either, but some days I catch myself worrying, wondering if I’m just not seeing it. Don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” He kisses the top of my head. “Every fucking day. Am I doing this right? Or will I one day wake up and realize that I’m just as bad as Dad?”
“You’re not. Look at him.” I point at Liam just as he disappears behind one of the buildings. Even then, we know exactly where he is, since he’s growling as loud as he can to add to the cards in the spokes. “Have you ever seen a happier kid?”
“Fuck,” he whispers and shakes his head, while he trails his fingers through my hair. “I never thought I’d be here, you know? Old lady, kid, being fucking happy. How the fuck did that happen? Some days, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
I bat him on his broad chest. “Don’t say stuff like that! Liam has the best fathers in the world, and you’re one of them.
Liam comes tearing around the corner, back in view, taking the turn so hard the training wheel pops up off the ground.
“Liam!”
I start running for him, though King is way ahead of me. Hero, too, who just came out of the house, but none of us are quick enough. The bike tips over and Liam hits the asphalt hard. He barely gets his hands out in time, so at least it’s not his beautiful, little face, but those are some scratches that are going to leave a mark.
“Fuck,” snaps King who gets there first. He picks Liam right off the ground and envelopes him so close that you can barely see him. “I’ve gotcha.”
For a moment, there’s silence, but then the surprise wears off and Liam starts wailing like a fire siren.
I never did become a good runner, but I get there and wrap my arms around King, like I can reinforce his hug with mine. Hero and Wild Child are there too, crouched down next to us.
“Is he okay?” For once, Wild Child’s expression isn’t pure mischief. If there ever was a doubt, no one makes Liam laugh like he does. He’s shifting his feet almost constantly, a sign of agitation I haven’t seen in a good while.
“Should I call Doc?” Hero tries to peek into King’s arms to assess the damage. “We’ve got to look at him.”
It’s with a lot of reluctance that King opens up. I think that if he could, he’d hold on until even the scars were gone.
“Let me see your hands,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. Liam’s wails have softened to sobs, and he holds his hands up while looking at me like I’m about to magically take away all the pain. I really wish I could.
There are some deep gashes in his palm, but nothing dangerous. They’re full of gravel, though, so he’s about to hate the cleanup process.
“I think you’re going to be okay. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
He nods and points at his knees, where he’s torn up his jeans. There’s a lot of red there. Crap.
Hero sweeps Liam up in his arms, right out of King’s. “I’ve got him. Show the way.”
Wild Child gives him a look that’s almost insulted, as if he’s mad that Hero got there first. Guess that’s what happens when everyone in the family is a protector.
Just as we’re heading for the house, Viking and Bear come running. Predictably, Viking is shirtless. “What’s happening? Is he hurt?” And behind them are Snark, Hawk and even Eagle-eye. And then Mom.
“My grandson! Is he hurt?” She comes running as quickly as her heels will allow. “Emily. Liam!”
Anyway, no one’s going to come here and claim that our child isn’t well protected. You haven’t seen funny until you’ve seen a bunch of burly bikers in jeans and leathers, filthy with motor oil and guns sticking out of their belts, looking at your little guy like he’s the Messiah come back to Earth. If I could take a picture, this picture is what I would use to convince anyone that bikers are just a big bunch of teddy bears in the end.
“We’re going to check him out,” says Wild Child. I think he’s fine.
Mom pushes through the crowd. If she’d ever had any worries about being surrounded by bikers, those are long since gone. “Baby, are you okay?” she coos.
“I think he’s fine, Mom. We’re taking him inside.”
“Go ahead,” says Viking and gestures at the door to our house.
Hero leads the way with a whimpering Liam, then me, then King and Wild Child… and then everyone else. Our house isn’t small, but all of a sudden, it feels like it.
“Guys!” I hold up my hands. “Give us some space here!”
“I’ll put on some coffee,” says Mom, giving a clear indication that no one’s leaving until the get the go-ahead. What does she think? That I’m going to do surgery here? It’s just a scrape, most likely. But, it keeps her out of my hair, so I’ll take it.
We bring Liam to the bathroom, one, because that’s where the antiseptic is, and two, because Hero can easily block the door so it’s only us in here. Bear complains, but resigns himself to taking one of the easy chairs while he grumbles about feeling left out. You’d think they were all Liam’s father.
Once he’s safely placed on the toilet seat, Wild Child has Liam’s pants down so we can get a good look at the scrape. It’s not as bad as it seemed. It’s bled a lot, but it’s superficial.
“Am I going to die, Mommy?” asks a very concerned young boy.
“Oh, Odin and Thor,” groans Viking out in the hall.
The drama is off the hook here.
“No, Liam,” I tell him as calmly as possible. “We just have to clean it out and you’ll be fine. It’s going to sting a little, okay?”
He determinedly shakes his head. “No!”
“We have to, so it doesn’t get infected.”
“No!” He keeps moving his legs so I can’t grab them. God, I don’t want to force him here.
“Hey, big guy,” says Wild Child, crouching close. “Look at me.”
“I don’t want to sting!” says Liam with all the determination of a toddler.
“No no, that’s fine, that’s fine. That’s a really cool scrape you’ve got, though.” Wild Child points to one knee. “It’s going to be a really gnarly scar.”
Liam’s eyes widen. “Scar?”
“Sure. All the tough guys have scars. Here, look at this.” He lifts his shirt to show a stark white line that slashes over his rib cage. “I got that when my bike spilled, just like you.”
Liam stares, wide-eyed.
“Hero, too. Look.” Wild Child gestures at Hero, who has to think a moment before showing off his upper arm, where two small white spots sit close together.
“They’re not very big,” says Liam, distracted enough now that he’s forgotten about his own.
Hero laughs. “Maybe not, but I got those saving Mommy from some bad guys, so I hope that counts.”
“Wow.” Then he whirls to King. “What about you, Daddy?”
They’re all Daddy. And yes, that’s a source of confusion.
All of a sudden, KIng looks really uncomfortable, but then he nods as if making a decision. He pulls his shirt over his head and turns so we can see the criss-cross scars all over his back.
“That’s a lot,” Liam says slowly.
“They are. I got them protecting someone important. Scars aren’t bad. They just show that you’ve lived life. We all have them. Mine are just visible on the outside.” It’s not often that I hear King choked up, but it’s there, just barely noticeable if you know him.
“So I’m going to get a scar too?”
I pull out the antiseptic. “Maybe. But if we don’t clean it out, it’s not going to heal right and could be dangerous. Will you be a big boy for us?”
He nods reluctantly, and puts his hands out. Will you hold my hands?
“Of course.” Wild Child takes one, King takes the other, while Hero rests his hands protectively on Liam’s shoulders.
Liam makes a very determined face, then nods. “Okay.”
To his credit, he handles it really well. I would probably still be screaming and I’m an adult.
Mom yells from the living room, “And there’ll be ice cream afterwards!”
And then Liam lights up, even if I’m right in the middle of working a sizable hunk of gravel out of his knee. “Ice cream!”
Wild Child chuckles. “I guess we didn’t need the tough guy speech after all.”
The moment I’m done, Liam launches off the toilet seat and sets a course for the living room. “Ice cream!” The four of us are left behind as if we’d never existed. Voices of all the guys in the living room telling Liam how big and strong and tough he is drift in to us.
“Guess we can’t compete with grandmother bribery,” says Hero with a shrug. Even King chuckles at that.
Soon after, the guys have cleared out, the drama is over, and Mom and Eagle-eye have taken Liam to the garage, because he loves checking out the bikes. Apparently Viking has gotten a new paint job and everything. That’ll keep them busy for a while.
Yeah, an MC club isn’t exactly a traditional place to grow up, and I suspect Liam will have seen his share of things before most kids his age, but we keep him out of the clubhouse and the guys know to behave around him. Even Chef, who loves sneaking him treats when cooking for the club.
“Well, that’s over and done, then,” says Wild Child. “He’s a good kid.”
The other guys nod.
“Time for another?”
I was about to head to the kitchen, but the comment stops me right in my tracks. “What?”
He just shrugs, but his grin says it all. So does King’s smoldering gaze behind him, and Hero’s slow nodding.
“Guys, are you serious?” I put my hands on my hips as if I’m in control of anything around here.
They take a step closer, looking menacing. Well, not really, because Wild Child’s mask slips almost immediately and Hero’s right after. Only King manages to hold the seriousness until they’ve caught up to me.
I grin up at them, all three of my big, sexy men. “You’re going to have to make me.”
And at that, Hero picks me up with absolutely no effort at all, throws me under his arm and sets a course for the bedroom. I guess some things never change.
And that’s fine!
(c) Stephanie Brother 2022
