Ryan Michele - Seduce Me

The morning air strikes across my skin as I step out of the clubhouse slowly walking to my car. I’ve had to say good-bye to Harlow twice now, but this one is by far the hardest. The weight on my shoulders is bogging me so far down; my legs find each step difficult. I do not want to leave. This is my home, the only life I’ve ever known.

And my only connection to my father Bam, but it’s what must be done.

I place my hand on my stomach closing my eyes and breathing in deep, the air rushing through my lungs. It’s funny how life repeats itself. I think that it’s Dr. Phil that says ‘past behavior predicts future behavior’ and to hell if that isn’t the truth.

Walking up to my white and red Chevy, I slide in slowly turning the key in the ignition, the car roaring to life. My eyes focus on the garage and my heart sinks as I slouch in my seat, the weight becoming too much. Hours I’ve spent inside that building learning, but the best were the ones I spent with my Dad, side by side under the hood of this car. He spent so much time teaching me everything he could, always patient and answering the thousands of questions I had repeatedly. It was the best time of my life.

Growing up in the club had its difficulties, but with each challenge that has been thrown in my face, I came out a stronger woman because of it.

I never knew my egg donor of a mother, who happened to be a club momma. As soon as I popped out of her stomach, she handed me over to Bam and never looked back. I don’t even know her name and at this point in my life, I have no intention of ever finding out.

I rub my stomach and disappointment scatters through my body. How could someone just dump their child and never contact them again? Never want to watch them grow up? The thought is just inconceivable to me.

Even though it doesn’t make sense, it’s what mine did. Bam never had a choice on whether to raise me or not, but I never once felt like a burden on him. True, my life growing up was very different from the life of my other schoolmates, but I loved it and wouldn’t change a thing.

For me, being strapped to a Harley before I could walk and attending parties where guys smoked cigarettes, drank booze and kissed barely clothed women was the norm. Watching fights break out over stupid shit almost every single day is the way of the club. Don’t get me wrong, I was always cared for, mostly by Bam, but he was busy a lot. When he was, a throng of club mommas entered in and out of my life to temporarily care for me, none ever staying long enough to form any kind of connection to.

Bam was there as much as he could be. He’d have tea parties with me and play this wrestling tickle game that always sent me into fits of laughter. I loved him… I still love him. His life lessons were the best education a little girl could have. I never had to ask him, it was like he knew what I needed when I needed it.

When the time came for boys, he always told me that no man is good enough for my baby. At the time, I rolled my eyes, but now I crave to hear those words come back out of his mouth.

I hang my head down to my chest willing the tears to stay at bay. I will not cry. I’m stronger than that.

Bam was able to do it, raise me that is. Even with the struggles, he did it. I can too, but in order to, I need to get away from here and find out who I am. I need to do better for myself and for my baby, my family. I want a life here, but, unfortunately, that is not possible right now. It’s not my choice, but that of my baby’s father.

Even though he doesn’t know about this precious gift I have growing inside of me, he’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want a life with me anywhere in it. It seems he’s too interested in chasing pussy to ever settle for just one. It guts me and shreds my heart that I’m not good enough. But I’m learning to accept it, even if it kills me. He left little room not to.

But I need to get myself together and stop with the ever impending pity party of poor me. I am not a poor me kind of woman. Thanks to Bam, I’m a grab life by the balls, deal with the consequences and make myself a future kind of a woman. That is what I am doing by leaving. I have every intention of coming back, every intention of introducing my child to his father and every intention of making my relationship with Harlow work. As soon as I have my head on straight.

Lifting my shoulders, I put the car into drive and set off for the new life that I have planned for my baby and me.

* * *

Cherry Vale is only an hour’s drive away from Sumner, but it feels like thousands and thousands of miles away, a whole new world. With each landmark that I pass, floods of memories seep through my body, tearing me away layer by layer. The pizzeria where Bam used to take me on special occasions flies by the window warming my heart and slamming me with sadness at the same time. The water tower where Harlow and I used to hang out to get away from everything and escape is seen high up in the sky. The old mill is still untouched after years of nothingness. I keep telling myself that there is a reason for my madness and it’s for my baby that I am moving away.

Pulling up to the apartment I rented, I park the car on the side of the street by the front door and stare at the four story brick building. Windows line the front with the sun shining so brightly on them they have a glare. The white shutters around the building give it a homey feel along with the flowers planted around the base of the building.

My apartment is located near campus giving a short walking distance to class, but yet not on campus. When I did my search for living arrangements, I didn’t want to live in a place where only students were, instead wanting one that had some families in it also.

I don’t know the first thing about kids, but I didn’t want to deal with frat boys and sorority sisters after drunken nights when I have a crying baby.

Before I met Harlow at the shop earlier tonight, my car was already loaded with my life and ready to go, everything else left with the truck yesterday. I didn’t want to go back to the apartment I’ve lived in for so long, afraid that I wouldn’t leave. It was my every intention to help Harlow with Rocky and get the hell out before anything else happened. I needed to make sure that was exactly what happened.

Sighing, I reach for the door handle and push open the door. The morning is still crisp, but nothing like an hour ago, the heat and humidity have begun to set in. Popping open the trunk, I reach in and grab a box. I made sure to pack all the really heavy stuff for the movers to bring, not wanting to lift too much.

Walking into the building and punching the elevator button to up, I stand and wait, my thoughts drifting to Bam. When I was younger, he always said he wanted me to go to school and get my degree. He told me that I was a smart girl; with a good head on my shoulders and I want to prove him right.

I hope that he wouldn’t be disappointed in me. After all, I went and got knocked up just like my club momma of a mother. Like mother like daughter, except one big difference, I will not give up on my baby. Everything that I’m doing now is for him or her.

The elevator dings. Balancing the box, I step in carefully. Reaching over to punch in the number three and the doors begin to close.

“Wait!” A deep voice from the other side rumbles. The voice is commanding yet soft. I try to find the open button on the panel while juggling the box, but have no luck. A large hand jams between the doors making them jump back with a clang, effectively opening them.

The man’s smell fills the elevator. It’s a mix of sweat, testosterone and something minty. His red running shorts, tennis shoes and a white tank show off an impressive set of muscles throughout his body. His blonde hair is dripping wet with sweat and his breathing heavy. When his brown eyes land on mine, a small smile quirks the side of his mouth. My body is on instant alert and I put up my defensive walls inside.

“You need help with that?” His voice reverberates off the small enclosed area.

“No, thank you,” I say straightening my shoulders. One thing you learn being around a bunch of badass bikers is presence. The more confidence you have, the less likely you are to be messed with and with not knowing the guy, I will not give an inch.

“Here.” The box in my arms disappears and instantly my arms feel the relief. “I can just help ya to your apartment. I won’t even go in.” His full out smile is waiting for me and it’s so infectious I find myself doing the same.

“Thank you.” I look away to watch the numbers move from one to two.

“I’m Jace.” I feel his eyes staring at me burning a hole right through me, but I will not give this man an inch. No one is getting an in… again.

“Casey.” I continue to watch as the numbers move from two to three willing them to move faster.

“You need help with your other boxes?”

“I’ll get them, but thank you.” The elevator dings on three and it just occurred to me that Jace didn’t push a number. Exiting the elevator, I look for 303 finding it on the right hand side of the hallway. “I’m right here, you can set it down. Thank you.”

He makes no attempt to set the box down, but stands next to the door, his shoulder pressed up against the wall. Out of my peripheral vision, his muscular arms flex as he holds the box as if it weighs nothing at all. I swallow and quickly reach in my pocket for my keys trying not to fumble them.

Opening the door wide, I take in the room. Boxes line the room and walls, my furniture is piled in heaps, but the good part is I don’t see the bed so hopefully it’s been moved to the bedroom. I let out a deep sigh and walk into the apartment relishing in the mess that will take me days to organize.

I turn to the door. Jace is still standing with his shoulder propped against the door attempting to hold it up, but I don’t think it needs any help and nonchalance is not his strong suit. I walk quickly to him and hold out my hands for the box. He hands it to me hesitantly.

“Thank you.” I say pulling away from him and setting the box on top of the massive pile everywhere.

“Anytime. I’d really like to help you with the others that you have. My mom always taught me to help a lady. She’d smack my head if she found out I didn’t help you.” He smirks but covers it up with his hand.

“I only have two and a suitcase. I can handle it, but thank you.” I say ignoring the mom comment. I turn back around my eyes lock with his deep chocolate brown ones and instantly look to the floor, my confidence wanes a bit. His interest in me is clearly written on his face, but it will not happen and I do not want to give him any indication that it will.

“If you need anything, you let me know. I’m down in 306 across the hall.” He moves away from the door frame but does not step into my space. He’s kept his word about not coming into my apartment and I do appreciate his respect.

“Thanks, but I’ll be just fine. Going to unpack.” I grasp the door getting ready to shut it.

“Got it. It was nice to meet you Casey.” His lips form into a heartbreaking smile, one that would curl most women’s toes. If I were any other woman, in any other situation, I’d probably be putty in his hands. But I’m not.

“Same here.” I clutch the door a bit harder, Jace turns and walks down the hallway only a few steps to his door. Without looking, I quickly shut the door, lock it, and turn, allowing my back to sag on the door in relief. I made it. I got here. I can do this.

* * *

I hate unpacking. I’ve only had to do it twice, once when I moved in with Harlow and now this. It’s taken me most of the day, but I think I finally have everything where it needs to be, at least furniture and clothes-wise. The rest will wait for another day.

Plopping down on the couch, I lean my head back to rest it. My entire body aches from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. My stomach growls reminding me I haven’t eaten. Since I haven’t gotten to the grocery store yet that means no food here either. I sigh to myself. I’ll need to remedy food before bed.

Both my hands instantly reach my stomach. I’m nowhere near showing yet, but I know the life inside me is growing. I did not plan on getting pregnant. When the doctor says that birth control is only 99% effective, believe him. I’m graced with the lucky one percent, but I can’t say that I’m disappointed. This pregnancy may not be what I have envisioned for myself, but I would not change it for the world.