“Don’t hear me complaining, Callie,” I rumbled, completely frustrated at the turn of the conversation. I looked away, trying to get my shit locked down, when she squeezed my hand.

“I love you and I know you’ll always take care of us. I just want to be able to do my part, okay?”

“Yeah, Sugar. Okay.” I could understand that; she’d been vulnerable for a really long time. I hated the thought of her moving on without me, but I wasn’t going to fuck up our visit by being an asshole. I started feeling comfortable again just as the guard called for visits to be over, and I felt myself growing panicked.

“Can I hug you again?” she whispered as she stood up across from me.

“Fuck yes,” I grumbled, following her up and pulling her close. “I love you both so fuckin’ much.”

“We love you, too,” she whispered as she started to cry. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s only for now, okay?” I whispered back fiercely. “Thank you for bringing Will.”

I handed her our son and wrapped my arms around both of them.

That was where I was supposed to be. I was supposed to be holding my family, taking care of them. I wasn’t supposed to be visiting them with people watching our every fucking move, analyzing the way I fucking held her hand or carried my boy.

She tilted her head up to me in invitation, and I fucking took it. I pushed my tongue between her pursed lips for just a second, tasting her, and then pulled away before the guards could fuck with us.

“I’ll call you in a couple days. Send me some pictures of you and Will, yeah?”

“Okay.” She was crying hard then, sniffling, her makeup running down her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. You better go,” I told her, lifting my chin toward the entrance.

When she turned around to walk away from me, I almost dropped to my knees.

My chest was on fire.

I wasn’t ready.

I wasn’t done yet.

I needed more fucking time.

I was missing goddamn everything.

I wasn’t fucking ready.

I just needed a little more time.

Just a few more goddamn minutes.

Holy fuck.

It couldn’t be over already.

Chapter 68

Callie

That first visit with Asa was the hardest. I cried the entire way back to the hotel with Gram holding my hand. She didn’t speak; she just wrapped my hand in hers the minute I sat down, and drove.

I didn’t remember much of the next few hours, but eventually I got my shit together, and we left for Sacramento the next morning.

After that, both arriving at the prison and leaving again got—if not easier—at least bearable. I knew each time that Will and I would be back, and it gave me something to look forward to. Sometimes we’d bring Gram or Cody during school breaks, but mostly, it was just me and Will. We needed that time, just our little family.

Farrah and I started school and she was freaking fantastic at everything. While I had to study and practice until I thought my brain was going to ooze out my ears, she just seemed to pick up everything the first time, without even trying. It was frustrating, but I couldn’t be too pissed about it—she loved it. She’d obviously found something that made her happy, and after all she’d been through, she deserved it.

Gram took care of Will, even though it left her exhausted by the end of the day. She never complained, but I was always relieved when Cody was home from school and could help her out. She refused to let me look into getting a different babysitter, but sometimes I felt guilty for leaving him with her all day. Leaving him at all was so much harder than I’d imagined, but the look of pride on Gram’s face when we’d arrive home from school was like an affirmation that I was doing the right thing.

Will grew like a weed. His hair took forever to grow in, but he never lost the little Mohawk he was born with, and I freaking loved it. He was my little rocker baby, and some of my favorite memories are of Farrah and me dancing him around the house while he giggled hysterically, his little mouth pouring drool all over the front of our t-shirts.

He was a ham, grinning in almost every photo we took, and he looked like Asa more each day. His little body was sturdy, usually measuring in the ninety-fifth percentile at his appointments, and it was a chore just keeping the poor boy in clothes that fit. I loved it. Every minute of every day, I was thankful for the little person that got into my makeup bag and poured out all of my loose powder, then stayed up until all hours of the night when I had tests the next day. When I looked into his face I saw a perfect mixture of his father and me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

We recorded every milestone, no matter how small, with video and photographs and I sent the photos to Asa weekly, keeping him updated on what our son was up to. I knew that he hated missing so many things, so I tried to keep him as involved as possible. It wasn’t easy.

Sometimes, I just wanted to enjoy the moment, without feeling panicked when I couldn’t find the camera. But I never stopped the video diary. If I was feeling frustrated, I knew Asa was feeling a thousand times worse.

My resentment over our circumstances grew with every passing day, burning and churning inside me until I felt ready to erupt. It was the club’s fault that our son barely knew his father. It was their fault that I was sleeping alone every night and that Asa was stuck behind bars in a prison full of murderers and rapists and God knew what else. My loathing for the Aces fed me, it kept me focused and calm when I felt the opposite, and it reinforced the wall between me and anything that I knew would be too much for me to handle.