Reclaimed (Knights Rebels MC #2.5) (2 page)

CHAPT
ER TWO

Kadence

“He left,” I whisper to the empty kitchen. I don’t know if I was expecting a reply, but the heaviness of the truth sits painfully on my chest. Oh, God, he left. Trepidation courses through my body and threatens to overwhelm me, bringing me to my knees as I sink to the floor. I don’t understand the uneasiness of my emotions. I don’t understand how I can go from riding in a bliss of new baby smell, to feeling like I’m walking blindly in a fog so thick I can’t see five inches in front of me.

How could he just leave like this? He knows I can’t be left alone. He left when I begged him not to. A prickly sensation of hysteria claws at my heart, squeezing harder and harder until drawing a breath becomes too painful. I can’t do this. What if she wakes up? My eyes drift to the cordless phone, sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter. Moving slowly, as my heart pounds in my chest, I crawl over and reach up, snagging it first go. Controlling the small tremble that begins in my hand, I dial the first number that comes from my fingers. 

Holly.
My best friend.

She will come. She always comes.

“Hello.” She answers on the third ring and I can already hear the smile in her voice, but I don’t have time to process this new
resentment that spreads through me every time I hear her so happy.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I try to come across as composed, but in reality, I’m anything but. My mind and body have been putting on a show for the last few weeks, and I'm tired. So fucking tired, I don’t even know how much longer I can keep going.

“I’m just out with Sy,” she replies, seemingly oblivious to the mild breakdown I’m having on the floor of my kitchen.

“Doesn’t Sy have to get to the club for the club meet?” I question, finding the perfect opening to get her to come over.

“Um, yeah. We’re about to head there now.” I hear rustling and a muffled voice in the background but can’t make out who is talking.

“Well, get Sy to drop you off before,” I suggest, keeping the pleading out of my voice.

“We can’t. Sy needs to get straight there.” She shuts down my suggestion. The panic collars me, causing me to hyperventilate. An invisible force threatens to drag me down into a hole so deep I fear no one can hear my screams for help.

“Holly,” I begin as the first sounds of Harlow’s whimpers startle me through the crackle of the monitor.

“Oh, is that Low? I’ll let you go,” she says, and before I can beg for help, she’s gone.

Oh, God, what am I going to do now?
I let the phone drop to the floor as Harlow’s little murmurs turn into cries. Cries that I can’t handle.

“Kadence, Low is awake,” Z calls out from the living room.

“Yeah, I know, bud. I’ll meet you up there,” I wheeze out, forcing myself to get it together at least for the kids’ sake.

“Hey, baby Low. How you doin’?” I hear Z murmur to his baby sister through the monitor. Her cries stop as she hears her brother’s voice, and if I wasn’t in total breakdown mode, I would smile at how much she already loves him. If only she loved me like that. If only I could bring that love to her.

I check the clock sitting above the fridge in front of me. It’s only been seven minutes. Seven whole minutes. Seven minutes which feel like a lifetime.

“You coming, Kadence?” Z calls again, antsy to play with his sister. We only have one rule, one rule I’m strict on, and that’s he can’t pick Harlow up out of the crib without me or Nix there. He knows this, so he will be waiting for me to come in for her. 

Mindful that the longer I take to get to the kids, the worse it will be for all of us; I gradually pick myself up and force myself to go to my children.

The trek up the carpeted stairs takes longer than normal. The sound of Z’s voice and Harlow’s cries growing with each step I climb. I stop at the decorated door, a pink plaque hangs in the center; purple letters adorned in golds and pinks spell out her name. Slowly, I drag a long breath through my nose and try to calm myself before I push the door open and force myself to enter.

“Here’s momma,” Z comforts his sister, his knuckle in her mouth as she tries to suck.

“Hey.” I force a smile, knowing if anyone else was here, they would see past my fake bullshit. Not Z, not my sweet Z though.

Moving toward the honey-stained oak crib, I catch the first glimpse of her dark curls. I remember when she was born, the first thing I noticed was her dark hair. Just like her father’s. Then she opened her eyes and it was like falling in love in slow motion. Reaching the side of the crib, I peer over and watch as those same eyes come to mine. Green, vibrant and just like her father’s. They still melt me each time I see them. 

Halting me for a moment, I watch her take everything in around her. These moments, the ones like this, when she looks up at me, her small face recognizing and knowing me, this is what I had envisioned when I thought about becoming a mother, when I grew her in my belly. But these moments are fleeting, barely satisfying me anymore. I love Harlow more than anything, but I’m exhausted. I’m afraid and I feel alone. I’m tired of hiding my despair that I’m not a good mother, or that I’m going to fail her. Even if she does melt my heart, it doesn’t stop me from questioning.
Am I enough?
The hopelessness grows day by day, while an unrelenting force keeps pushing me down, lower, deeper and heavier and even on the days I want to fight it, I can’t.

“Hey, Low.” I smile awkwardly and stand there not understanding how irresolute I had become.

“She seems really hungry,” Z prompts, forcing me to bend at the waist, and pick her up from her crib. I keep myself in check, needing to get through the next twenty minutes
. You can’t fuck this up when you’re her mother,
I remind myself as I place her gently down on the matching oak change table and focus on changing her diaper.

Even this task puts me on edge. Nix has been the one who’s been hands on the last seven weeks. I barely know what to do. It’s not that I don’t want to know, but more I don’t know how to want to. If it weren’t for the fact I’ve been trying hard to hide that I’m failing miserably at this mother gig, I would have the sense to ask Nix how he’s coping. It’s not that I don’t care how he is feeling, somewhere deep down inside of me, a small piece is dealing with guilt. Guilt for not caring enough, or for not being happy enough, hell, for not wanting any part of it. I don’t know what is happening to me. Spending my days tired, angry and in tears has become my normal. Low is everything I asked for, everything I need. So why does it feel like I have made a mistake?

Holly and my mom voiced their reassurances, suggesting I was just tired. Baby blues is what they called it. But I can’t help fear the question I keep asking myself: what if it’s more? Was having Harlow a mistake? Did I rush into things when I wasn’t ready? The same apprehensions flow through me now just as they have done the past few weeks. I can’t pinpoint the moment I realized being a mother wasn’t what I was expecting. Yeah, I read the books, searched the forums, but nothing really prepares you for what’s to come. No one tells you that having a baby could make you feel so out of control, or lonely. That small, everyday tasks would become insurmountable hurdles. No one tells you, you will spend your days worrying if you’re doing everything right, and your nights crying when you fail. But the most heartbreaking thing of all is the numbness. No one told me about the numb feeling, or that it would be the most excruciating pain I would ever experience, even if some days I didn’t care.

Shaking my head clear of the thoughts I can’t afford to have, I carefully pick up Harlow and sit down in the rocking chair that Nix’s father, Red, made for us. When we came home from the hospital with Low, our chair was waiting for us. A note attached telling me Red refurbished the same chair that Nix’s mother nursed in.

No one has ever made me a chair before, and the small act of love Red showed me makes me want to sit in the chair every day. But what I love most about our chair, is the sense of peace it gives me. It’s as if I’m chasing peace every second of my day, but when I sit in my rocking chair, the same chair I knew Nix was rocked in, peace never evades me.

“You want to give me fifteen minutes Z, then she’s all yours?” I ask Z.

“Sure.” He smiles, touching his sister’s head once more. “I’ll watch some TV.” He walks out not waiting for my reply.

“You’re not going to give me a hard time are you, Low baby?” I ask, looking down at her as she tries to pull at a stray hair which has fallen from my messy bun. Lifting my shirt, I unclasp my bra and pray to the breastfeeding gods that by some miracle, Harlow has learned how to latch on properly. Resting back, I position her in my arms and before her small pink lips encircle my nipple, the tears begin to fall because I know what’s about to happen. I know for the next fifteen minutes, I’ll endure the pain of what feeding my child does to me.  The stinging will begin as pain shoots through my breast and I won’t be able to control the sob that rips from my mouth. I know I will have to resist the need to pull her away, and vow to not feed her anymore. Then the guilt will come, guilt knowing I can’t do anything right. I’ll try to fight the discontent that weighs heavy on my shoulders. Try to keep the thoughts that this is what she brought into my life away as a small piece of hate eats away at my soul. I fight all these demons alone and broken.

Her small hand will reach up and touch my face, but I’ll miss it all, because even if it’s the most beautiful thing in the world, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the pain and I can’t bear to look at my daughter. 

I’m a terrible mother.

CHAPTE
R THREE

Nix

“Hey, boss man.” Jesse, my sergeant at arms, looks up from his position, bent over the pool table.

“Hey.” I nod, and walk straight to my office.

“What are you doing here?” he calls, but I’m so tightly wound up that I don’t stop to answer. Slamming the door shut, I plant my ass in my office chair and let out a shaky breath. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left her. My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, ready to see Kadence’s name flash. Instead, Holly’s name comes up.

“Yeah?” I answer, knowing this call is important.

“She called.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and ask what I needed to know. “She sound okay?”

“She didn’t sound too bad, but I could hear a little panic. You sure this is a good idea?”

Am I sure? Fuck, I’m not sure of anything these days. “I don’t know what else to do, Holly. I’ve tried talking to her. She just shuts down. She won’t go to the doctors. I’m not going to force her, but we can’t keep doing everything for her. Besides, Z is there and I trust that she will cope.” I believe those words leaving my mouth more than anything. Kadence would never do anything to hurt Low. Her fears and insecurities come from the idea of failing Low or not being the best for her. This fucked-up thinking she has is only amplified by the fact that Low just won’t settle.

“You should talk to her, Nix. Tell her what you need from her.”

“I’ve tried, Hol. She won’t listen. The only way I can help her is by showing her this isn’t normal.”

“We both know she’s aware it’s not normal, Nix.”

“Well, if you have a better idea, have at it!” I snap, taking my frustration out on her. I hear Sy in the background, and I know he’ll be pissed if I upset his woman. “Sorry, I’m just trying to deal.”

“It’s okay. You’re tired. I’m not just worried about her but about you, too.”

“Don’t worry about me. Let’s just focus on Kadence, yeah?” I ask, not needing a therapy session. I just need my fucking wife back.

“Mom and I are going to come over tomorrow. We can talk to her again then,” she says, giving me some small hope.

“Call Kadence’s mom. You’ll need reinforcements,” I add, knowing how bad she was today. Maybe if she hears if from all four of us together, she might listen to what we have to say. 

“Right, okay, well, keep me posted,” she rushes, ending the conversation. I know she likes to think she has it under control, but Holly feels as helpless as I do.

“Yeah,” I reply before hanging up. I pocket my phone and rest my head on the desk. Jesus, who would have thought ten months ago this is where we would be?  Me, hanging in my fucking office, hiding from my wife.

Unease settles in my gut. Feeling disconnected with her burns me, but what eats at me more than anything is knowing she is suffering. Whatever is going on, I just wish we could fucking sort it, move on from it and be a fucking family again.

I fucking miss my wife.

***

“How you doin’, bud?” I ask Z as I walk through the door a few hours later. After I got off the phone with Holly, I lost myself in some paperwork. During the past seven weeks, I’ve neglected my duties in the club. Beau, my VP, has had to step up and take on my work while the rest of the boys have been dealing with their own shit: Sy with Inked Me, and Jesse with Liquid.

“Good,” Z mumbles, continuing into the kitchen. I follow behind him feeling some tension.

“You okay?” I put my keys and wallet down on the counter and watch him carefully.

“You told her thirty minutes,” he snaps, anger dancing in my son’s eyes.

He’s pissed.

“She okay?” I ask, not certain I want to know the answer.

“She’s hiding in the bathroom.” He places his dish in the sink, starting to wash it. I don’t respond. I just watch him.

If Kadence is in the bathroom, then he’s been looking after Low.

“Low okay?” I swallow past the anger and defeat that begins to grow. I hate this, fucking hate it for Z and Low, but hate it more for Kadence.

“I rocked her ‘til she fell asleep.”

“You’re a good big brother, Z.” I give him a smile. He doesn’t smile back; instead, he looks so confused.

“What’s happening, Dad?” he asks straight to the point, looking as unsure as I feel. I step forward and wrap my arms around him. Fuck, when did he get so grown up?

“We got some shit to get through, bud, but we’re gonna get there. Know that we are gonna fix it.” I kiss the top of his head.

“Is it something that I did?” his small voice asks. And the young man who just called me out for taking longer than I should have, seems so small; worried he’s done something to cause the darkness in our home.

“Bud, this isn’t about you. I promise. This is somethin’ that Kadence and I need to work through.”

“But I don’t want you to get a divorce.” His arms squeeze me on the last word. Fuck me.
Divorce?
“Hey.” I pull back, looking him straight in his eyes. “That’s not ever gonna happen, Z. I promise you. Sometimes it takes a while to adjust with a new baby. You have nothin’ to worry about, okay?” I hold his gaze, needing him to understand this isn’t about him. He slowly nods in my arms as I hold him a little longer before I step back.

“You okay?” I ask, watching him wipe his eyes. It’s moments like this, I want to shake her, show her what she is missing. The Kadence I knew would rather die than hurt our son, but now, he’s standing in front of me trying to hold his shit together and she wouldn’t give one fuck.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go play Xbox.” He walks out and I give myself a moment to cool down. Fuck. I knew things were bad, knew I was losing control, but I thought I was protecting Z from it. I was clearly fucking wrong. 

After calming myself, I take the steps two at a time and go to find my wife. I’m at the end of my rope. Something has got to fucking give, something to get her to realize that what is happening can no longer go on.

“Kadence?” I knock on the bathroom door and wait for her to answer. “Kadence,” I call again when she doesn’t respond. I know when she is stressed, when things become too much for her, she likes to hide in here. The first time she checked out, I found her sitting in the empty tub, staring vacantly ahead. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening. I walked in late one day with Low screaming in her crib, a confused Z by her side trying to keep her calm, and Kadence sitting in an empty shower, ignoring us all. It took me thirty minutes for her to come back, but it was like a piece of her was missing

“Kadence, just fuckin’ respond.” I knock again, that small unease in my gut twitches, and something unsettling has my next knock turning into a bang when my arm reaches up again. She doesn’t respond and the dread that forms in the pit of my gut twists into something that I wasn’t prepared for.

“Open this fuckin’ door before I knock it down.” My fear comes out as anger, but each second she doesn’t respond, is another second that my doubt takes over. I step back, lift my leg, and in one forceful kick, I break past the lock; the door flying back in a loud thud. My eyes scan the bathroom in frantic need to know she is safe, that she hasn’t done something stupid, something I would never forgive her for. My body convulses when I see her sitting on the shower floor.

Her head comes up, surprise written all over her face as if my entry into the bathroom is a shock. I can see she has been crying, but the despair and anger ripping through my body doesn’t let me register what she needs. I’m too pissed off.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I spit out, watching her body recoil from my words.

She recovers, but doesn’t respond, just looks at me so devoid of anything which only causes my anger to grow. Stepping forward, I pull the glass shower door open while she continues to look straight through me. My first instinct is to pick her up and shake some life back into her, but I know she’s so far in her head right now, it won’t get me anywhere. Instead, my hand goes to the tap, not bothering to warm the water, and I let it rush over her. Her gasp fills the small glass enclosed area right before she moves to escape, but I react quicker, holding my frame in the door way.

“Fuckin’ talk to me, dammit!” I shout and she trembles under my stare.

“Where the fuck were you?” She finally reacts, trying to push me out of the way. “You left. You said thirty minutes, Nix.” Her fists connect with my chest and her voice cracks as she begins to sob.

My arms come around her, pulling her wet body into mine, holding her while she screams out and comes undone. I fucked up. I know I did, but I can’t help feel a small glimmer of hope grow in me that she’s finally reacting. I hold her for a brief moment, the water still falling over her back, splashing both of us. I reach back and shut it off, holding her firmly in my arms.

“Just breathe, baby.” I reach for the towel and wrap her tightly in it. Silent sobs rack her body. “Deep breaths,” I encourage again, when I sense her losing the battle to control them. I fucking hate myself knowing I did this to her, but I don’t know how much more of it I can handle. It takes her a few more minutes before her breathing slows and her sobs finally fade.

I don’t move her, afraid to set off another round, so I hold her in my arms, praying I haven’t just fucked up shit even more. Hoping that eventually she will talk, because somewhere deep down inside of me, I have that sinking feeling. The one that tells me if things don’t change, I don’t know how much longer I’ll have her for. And not having Kadence in my life, is not an option.

It will
never
be a fucking option.