Two Hearts Born to Love
Choices: Tarkio MC series, Book 3
By
Debra Kayn
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Two Hearts Born to Love
Choices: Tarkio MC series, Book 3
1st release: Copyright© 2020 Debra Kayn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Debra Kayn. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1 | Wyatt | 1987
Chapter 2 | Joey
Chapter 3 | Wyatt
Chapter 4 | Joey
Chapter 5 | Wyatt
Chapter 6 | Joey
Chapter 7 | Wyatt
Chapter 8 | Joey
Chapter 9 | Joey
Chapter 10 | Wyatt
Chapter 11 | Joey
Chapter 12 | Wyatt
Chapter 13 | Joey
Chapter 14 | Wyatt
Chapter 15 | Joey
Chapter 16 | Wyatt
Chapter 17 | Joey
Chapter 18 | Wyatt
Chapter 19 | Joey
Chapter 20 | Wyatt
Chapter 21 | Joey
Chapter 22 | Wyatt
Chapter 23 | Joey
Chapter 24 | Wyatt
Chapter 25 | Joey
Chapter 26 | Wyatt
Chapter 27 | Joey
Chapter 28 | Wyatt
Chapter 29 | Joey
Chapter 30 | Wyatt
Chapter 31 | Joey
Chapter 32 | Wyatt
Chapter 33 | Joey
Chapter 34 | Wyatt
Chapter 35 | Joey
Chapter 36 | Wyatt
Chapter 37 | Joey
Epilogue | 1988
Author Bio
Debra Kayn's Backlist
Sneak Peek | All Of His Secrets | Book 4, Choices: Tarkio MC series
Chapter 1 | 1980 | Rick
Dedication
To every girl who wore Puka shell necklaces, nylon shorts, and crop tops.
Everyone has a reason why they joined a motorcycle club.
This is Wyatt and Joey's story.
Chapter 1Wyatt1987
THE TINKLING OF BROKEN glass from the other room sent Wyatt's stress level soaring. He dropped the plastic laundry hamper full of clothes and stormed out of the bedroom.
"Jess?" He stepped into the other bedroom and grabbed his daughter, pulling her away from in front of her desk, spotting the cause of the break. "Travis, get a rag."
"Where are they?" yelled Travis from the other side of the apartment.
"Jesus, hang on," mumbled Wyatt, leading his daughter to the bed. "Hop up and stay off the floor. You're not wearing shoes. I don't want you getting cut."
He walked across the hallway to the bathroom, grabbed the towel off the bar on the wall, and returned to his daughter's room. Picking up the pieces, his muscles tensed. It'd been a shit day. A shit situation. A shitshow that only hurt his kids.
Soft crying came from behind him. His frustration took a backseat, and he went to Jess.
Sitting beside her on the bed, he gathered his fifteen-year-old daughter in his arms. "It's just a glass. No big deal."
Jess shook her head, swiping at the brown hair clinging to her face with her hands. "It's not that."
He hugged her tighter. His kids had watched their mom's coffin lowered into the ground today. The life his daughter knew was gone, and he had no fucking idea on how to help her.
Jess was too young to remember when he lived with Claudia. As soon as she got pregnant with Travis, Claudia had kicked him out. Despite his best efforts to get full custody of his kids, the court only gave him a chance to see them every other weekend.
Staying with him twice a month hadn't prepared Jess to move in with him and uproot her life on top of losing her mom.
"I know, baby," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "One day at a time."
Travis walked into the room, looked at him, looked at his sister, and turned around and left with his shoulders rounded, and his hands buried deep in the front pockets of his baggy jeans. Wyatt stared at the open doorway. His son was another matter.
While Jess came to him for comfort and reassurance that he wasn't going to die and leave her the same way her mom had left, his son shut him out. Travis had only mumbled a few words at the cemetery, and that was only to ask if they could go home.
Maybe that was normal behavior for a thirteen-year-old boy, but as a thirty-eight-year-old dad, he was frustrated with Travis's attitude.
"It's late. Why don't you get ready for bed? You've had a big day. Tomorrow, we need to get you signed up with your new school." He kissed her forehead and stood. "Do you need anything before you hit the sack?"
Jess wiped her nose with her hand and fell over on the bed, rolling into a ball. "I want my old life back. My friends. My school. My room."
He flinched. The worst part of being a parent is failing to provide what his child, his children, needed.
Leaving Jess to settle down on her own, he walked to the bathroom, dumped the glass in the garbage. How quickly his children's lives had shattered.
He went into the bedroom and picked up the last of his clothes. In the past, when the kids came to spend the weekend with him, he'd slept on the couch. Now that they were going to live with him full-time, the living room would be where he slept every night. Travis needed his own space, and if having a private room helped his son adapt, he'd sleep on the God damn floor if it made the situation better.
He walked down the hallway. The small sacrifice of giving up his room twice a month was worth it to have his kids with him, and he could get by paying less rent for a two-bedroom rather than an apartment big enough for all of them.
But he had no fucking clue how everything would work out on a day-to-day basis now.
He stopped in the living
