I didn’t have a fancy phone with all the bells and whistles. No, I had a simple phone I’d gotten from the store because I didn’t want to spend money on anything unnecessary. I work off of my computer and this makes it easy for me to be able to take care of Lincoln and not send him to daycare. It also allows me in moments like this to leave without delay.
I park my car and turn the engine off. I let out a sigh of relief at the thought of getting out of the car for the remainder of the evening. A part of me wants to keep going, there’s only so far left to go. Turning in my seat, I notice Lincoln is passed out.
Great. I hate to have to wake him up.
If you keep going you could go ahead and get the rest of it over with. Find a motel there, sleep and then go see him.
Or you could show up at Whip’s tonight in the hopes of him being home and help you find Isaac tonight.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.
What am I doing?
I don’t even know if it’s the right thing or not.
I wrote Isaac multiple letters when he’d been deployed, all of them letting him know about his son. He didn’t even respond to them. Isaac has to know he has a son.
Right?
Holding the pen in my mouth, I think of what to tell Isaac. I’ve been sending him a letter each week to tell him how things are going with the progress of Emilia’s pregnancy. How she seems to be taking to the whole thought of being a mother.
You would think she’s expecting Isaac to come home from deployment all happy to be a dad. But when I ask her if she’s spoken to him or written to him, she shakes her head in denial. A flash of something in her eyes tells me she’s lying. Either way, I’m not sure. All I know is if I write him, I at least know he’ll be aware of his child.
Lincoln was born nearly a month ago and Emilia has been in a depressive state, but I’ve heard this is normal.
Glancing down at the paper, I decide to just tell him the truth and let this be the last letter I send him. It’s clear he doesn’t want to be a part of Lincoln’s life but I’ll know I tried.
Isaac,
I hope this finds you well. I’m sorry about all the letters over the past months. I wanted to make sure you knew of the child Emilia carried. He was born the other week and he’s the most beautiful little boy there is.
His name is Lincoln Isaac Dawson. Yes, she’s given him your last name. Said it was only suiting, whatever that means.
Anyway, I won’t bother you anymore after this. It’s clear you don’t want anything to do with any of us. I’m sorry I’ve bothered you with all the letters. I couldn’t not tell you though. You deserve to know about Lincoln, same as you deserve happiness.
Emilia might not have been the one for you and I get it. She’s a wild child needing to spread her wings. I guess you could say. You need someone who’s always going to be there for you and I give you my word now, I’ll keep Lincoln safe.
Good luck in life, Isaac.
With all my love,
Amaya
Putting the pen down, I grab the pictures and fold the letter before I decide to rip it up and start over. I put everything in the envelope and seal it. I address it the same as I have each time and head to the post office. I need to get this done and over with before I change my mind.
That day was the last time I reached out to Isaac. Over the years, I’ve thought I should have tried harder. I don’t know but now we’re so close.
Opening my eyes I make the decision. We can’t stop here.
Not when we’re so close to him. I need to make it the rest of the way without waiting. When I get there, I can decide on waiting until tomorrow or going tonight.
If I were smart, I’d run but I can’t. This is about Lincoln and Isaac deserves to have his son with him.
Chapter Four
Venom
It’s been one fuckin’ long ass day.
By the time we pull up at the clubhouse, it’s dark. I back the truck up to the garage doors to where we keep our shit stored. Putting the gears in park, I shut the engine off and hop out. The prospects can unload the shit and store it for us.
I need a fuckin’ beer and to find one of the clubwhores to suck my dick or something.
Last night I’d been haunted by dreams of not only Terson’s face, after getting the news about him, but also of a dark-haired beauty who always tried to stick to the background. Why, after years of not thinking about her, am I conjuring her in my dreams? I barely ever talked to the woman, but yet there she was popping in where she wasn’t wanted.
This all has to do with the fuckin’ phone calls I keep getting. They’re getting out of hand. First, she’d been calling once every two weeks then it escalated to weekly now it’s fuckin’ daily. I need to get Nerd to block the bitch’s number.
“You good, brother?” Whip asks, joining me as I walk toward the clubhouse. Between him and Coyote, we’d all gone on this run. Coyote hightailed it home to his boys and woman after we’d gotten back to town, knowing we’d be good when we got closer to the clubhouse.
After the shit with Chigger going down, things seem to settle slightly, but we know it’s not over. Not
