Chapter 20

Songs:

Brand New Start, Alter Bridge
I'll Be Good, Jaymes Young
Lost Boy, Ruth B
Cartography, Eddie Vedder
Through the Ghost, Shinedown

*Link to youtube playlist in chapter one.

Spring 2014 through Summer 2015

Bella

March 2014

"We need to get goin', babe," Masen shouts from the living room.

"Yeah, just give me a few minutes," I yell over my shoulder before turning back to the squirming boy on the changing table. "And you're ready to go, too, aren't you, Sammy? You look so handsome today." I pick him up and can't help but kiss his squishy cheeks and neck. He's finally filling out a little, and I love it. "I bet you can't wait to see Poppa C again, can you, my big boy?"

I walk down the hall and find Mase by the door, his keys in hand. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah. I just need to grab the diaper bag. Here," I say, placing Sam in his waiting arms, "put him in his car seat and I'll be right out."

"You got it." When Mase kisses Sam, they both smile, and it's contagious. "Come on, little man."

By the time I grab the diaper bag and my purse and head out, Sam is already in his seat and Mase is behind the wheel.

"Come on, beautiful. They're gonna start the party without us."

When we pull up in front of the Cullens' house, a long line of bikes and cars are already parked at the curb.

"You ready for this?" Masen asks as he downshifts, pulls the brake, and cuts the engine.

This is the first "big event" we've attended as a family since Sam was born, and I'm nervous ... for so many reasons, not the least of which is wondering how Esme will treat my son.

I turn to him and try to smile. "As ready as I'm gonna be." As I open the car door, I take a deep breath, preparing to walk into the lion's den. Masen grabs Sam's car seat while I snatch the diaper bag from the backseat, and we head inside.

The party is in full swing, club members and their wives or girlfriends all over the house and around the pool out back. And once Masen places Sam's seat on the floor, I quickly unbuckle him and hold him close, using him like some kind of talisman to protect me from the evils that lurk in the halls of the Cullen house.

"Bella," Pop says as he approaches me, his hands already open to take his newest grandson from my arms. "How is my little fighter?"

"He's good," I reply with a smile as he takes Sam from me. "He was up to ten pounds at his last visit."

Masen walks up beside me the, wrapping one arm around my waist, a beer already in the opposite hand. "He's growing like a weed." He kisses the side of my head. "Bella's doing a fantastic job with him, isn't she?" he asks his father with a beaming smile.

The way Carl looks at Masen makes my heart swell. For the first time since I've known him, I can see acceptance in his eyes as he looks at his son. And when he looks at me, I see something similar. "You're both doing a great job." He peers down at Sam as he bounces him in his arms. "Mark my words, he's gonna be a bruiser." He leans forward and kisses my cheek. "Keep up the good work, hon."

"Thanks. And happy birthday, Pop."

He grins and walks away with his grandson in his arms, Masen right behind him, leaving me to fend for myself. Thankfully, I find Alice in the kitchen, and Esme is nowhere to be seen.

"Bella! How are you?" Ali asks, wiping her hands on a towel and running over to hug me. "I haven't seen you in, like, a month. Things have been so crazy with work." She pulls back and looks over my shoulder and back to me. "Where's Sam?"

"What am I, chopped liver? You only want to see your nephew?"

"Oh, come on," she says, pulling away and going back to chopping vegetables. "You know that's not true. But he's got to be getting so big. He's what, four months?"

"Yeah." I can't fight the smile that spreads over my face. "He finally passed ten pounds at his last check up. He feels so much more sturdy now."

"Oh, Bella, that's great. And what about the breathing issues?"

My smile falls a little. "We're still dealing with it. But we were able to return the apnea monitor at his last visit. They were happy with the progress he's made."

"Do they think he'll have long-term problems?"

I shrug. "Maybe. They said it's pretty likely he'll have asthma when he gets older. There's no way to test him for it now, but with his problems at birth, it's almost a given."

She smiles as she looks over at me. "And I'm sure you'll tackle that like you have everything else."

"Yeah, we will."

She looks behind me then meets my gaze, lowering her voice. "And how has Masen been handling all of it?"

I think back to all the nights when he needed to be up at six for work but had only slept a few hours. He was still patient and did what he could to help me. "He's been amazing, Ali."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I know who's there before he even says a word.

"Where is Mom setting up the food?" he asks, his voice entirely too close.

Alice points to the table. "Just set the chips there and take the beer out to the cooler on the patio."

I take a breath and turn, smiling up at him. "Hey, Edward."

"Hey, B. How are you?" He leans down and kisses my cheek.

For a brief moment I close my eyes and breathe him in, the old-familiar pang in my stomach barely registering. Maybe I'm finally desensitized to his presence after all this time.

"I'm good," I reply as he pulls away.

"You look good." He laughs nervously and shakes his head as his cheeks pinken just a little. "So, where's Sam? I haven't seen him in weeks."

I smile at his mention of his nephew. "Your dad had him last I knew."

"Is he outside?"

"Yeah."

A whirlwind of long blonde hair and high heels blows into the room right behind Edward, another case of beer in hand. "Where am I supposed to put this, E?"

"There's a cooler outside. Come on," he says, tilting his head toward the patio door.

When they disappear through the door, I turn to Alice. "Who was that?"

She rolls her eyes. "Edward's flavor of the month."

My brows shoot up. "Really? I didn't know he was dating anyone."

She turns to me, scowling and pursing her lips. "He's not."

"Oh."

"Yeah. As far as I know, it's not serious. I don't even remember this one's name. Why he decided to bring her to a family function is beyond me."

"I thought he'd have Seth with him."

"No, Seth's with Angela this week since their visitation schedule is going to get thrown off with her wedding coming up."

"Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten all about that."

She puts the finishing touch on the vegetable tray and picks it up. "Come on. Let's go make sure our men are staying out of trouble."

Most of the guys have moved outside, and thankfully, Pop is shooing away anyone who lights up. "Keep that shit away from my boy," he says to Tracker, pointing to the chairs set up in the back of the yard.

I walk up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder, kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

He pats my hand. "We gotta keep him healthy"—he looks down at a wide awake Sam—"don't we, kiddo?"

Masen grabs me by the waist and pulls me down into his lap. "Hey," he says, grinning just before he kisses me.

"Hey," I murmur, smiling against his lips.

I can feel eyes on us, so I pull back and reach for Masen's drink, ignoring the looks Edward is giving us. He's so focused on us that when the blonde plops into his lap, the red Solo cup in his hand is jostled, sending the liquid in it over the side. He grimaces, looking put out with her before she even opens her mouth.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" she asks with a whine, completely oblivious to his irritation.

"Sure. You've met Carl. And this is my brother, Masen, and his wife, Bella," he says with little enthusiasm, pointing our way. "Guys, this is Nichole."

"Nice to meet you," I murmur, my gaze only briefly flashing to Edward.

Masen acknowledges her with a jerk of his chin and a simple, "Hey."

The mood is laidback, as it usually is when the club gets together. Even Esme is taking it easy, merely delegating tasks to other people while she relaxes in the shade on the other side of the patio—unsurprisingly, far away from Masen and me.

When the women start to congregate around her, I'm thankful Sam needs to be nursed. I disappear into the house to feed and change him. By the time I make it back outside, Masen isn't where I left him. Instead, he's on the other side of the yard, smoking a cigarette and talking to his brother and a few other guys from the club.

And in a scene I can only describe as sudden, inexplicable chaos, he's tackled to the ground, and they all wrestle around while he struggles to get free.

"What the hell are they doing?" I say, taking a step forward, but Alice grabs my arm.

"Give it a minute, Bella."

It's over almost as suddenly as it began, and when Masen stands up and brushes himself off, he's wearing the biggest smile on his face and holding up scraps of fabric.

"Looks like it's official," Ali says from beside me.

I turn to her. "What is?"

"He's patched in. Hope you're ready."

Summer 2014

"How much?" My fingers dance across the outlines of what will be the club colors on his back.

"He's cutting me a deal since all the guys use him to get theirs. But I think I'm going to give him an even grand. I figure the extra can be a tip." He turns around, a wide smile on his face. "I can't wait to see it done."

I place my hands on his bare chest as he wraps an arm around my waist. "It's a lot of money, Mase," I whisper.

"A few of the guys have done payment plans." He gently shakes me, the smile never leaving his face. "Don't worry about it. I've got this."

He hisses and pulls back when I place the warm washcloth to his split lip. "Watch it."

"Hold still." I meet his eyes. Well, the one that isn't swollen nearly shut. "I guess you don't want to tell me what happened this time?"

He exhales and purses his lips. "You know I can't tell you anything."

I nod once, sharply, and turn to rinse the washrag. "Club business, right?"

He steps behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close and nuzzling my neck. "I'm sorry," he murmurs against my skin.

I look up and meet his gaze in the mirror. "I hate seeing you like this. It's the second time in the last two months I've had to literally clean your wounds." I turn in his arms and stare down at his bare, bruised chest. "I didn't know it would be like this," I whisper.

He tilts up my chin and places a soft kiss on my lips. He grimaces a little as he pulls back, licking at the split in his own. "It usually isn't, but we had to take care of something, and things got out of hand. I promise to be more careful next time."

"You're what?"

"I'm going on a run, and it just so happens to be out of town."

"But a week, Masen? I thought you were going to go with me to Sam's appointment with the specialist. You can't do that if you're on a club run."

"Do you not want the extra money? Because I'm sure Trigger could use the cash."

I close my eyes and rub a hand over my forehead.

Masen works a full shift at the shop five, sometimes six days a week and spends countless hours on "club business." There are some days he doesn't even make it home in time to say goodnight to Sam. Carmen is down to part-time now as she nears retirement, but she spends most of her free time with her friends. That leaves me home alone with the baby most of the time, but I kind of like it. I've been able to give him the one-on-one attention he's needed since his birth.

Even as well as he's doing, his breathing problems have persisted. I've spent many sleepless nights sitting up with him, listening to his wheezing breaths and making sure he takes his next one. But every morning, when I'm rewarded with a tiny-toothed smile, all the stressful nights are worth it.

The ongoing medical bills are another story.

Even after the insurance paid their portion of Sam's delivery last year, we were left with thousands of dollars in bills we weren't prepared for. Some providers were more willing than others to work with us by setting up payment plans. We got credit cards to pay the ones who weren't.

We're already chasing our tails on the interest alone.

With my fears of Sam being around other germ-ridden kids and picking up a bug he can't fight, I've been reluctant to put him in daycare. That means I haven't returned to work. But then again, this town doesn't have many prospects for a girl who barely graduated from high school.

"No, you're right. We can use the money."

Fall 2014

I look over at the clock, and the bright LED display reminds me another day has passed and I haven't seen my husband. Tossing and turning, I'm unable to get comfortable. Around three in the morning I finally hear the front door open. Masen's heavy footsteps clomp down the hallway, and after stopping at Sam's door, they continue on to our bathroom. Once I hear the bathroom door latch, I lie there waiting for the toilet to flush or the shower to start. When it doesn't, I realize Masen could be bandaging busted knuckles or yet another head wound. With a huff, I decide to get out of bed and see if he needs my help.

"Mase?" I whisper, tapping lightly on the door. "Do you need help?"

"No," he says, his voice unusually gruff.

His tone sends a strange shiver up my spine, and I know something is off with him. I slowly turn the knob and push the door open. What I'm met with makes that shiver spread through my veins and my heart stutter.

He's standing over the sink, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he stares at his reflection. In the harsh glare of the fluorescent bulbs, the spatter of blood across his face and in his hair is obvious.

"You should go to bed," he says, his voice not sounding like his own.

My eyes finally meet his in the mirror. "What happened?" I whisper, frozen in place.

"You should go to bed."

"Masen, what—"

"Go to bed!" he shouts.

Sam's cries are almost instant, and I scurry out of the doorway and to my son as fast as my feet can carry me.

"It's okay, baby boy," I say, scooping him out of his crib. "Mommy's got you." I bounce him, the tears in my eyes welling as fast as his fall. I squeeze my eyes closed, and my shoulders shake with the force of my sobs.

Once Sam is calm and settled back in his bed, I creep out of his room. Returning to my own, I expect to see Masen in our bed, but what I find are empty sheets. I pause, momentarily considering searching for him, but I'm afraid of what I might find.

I crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head, closing my eyes and trying to go back to sleep. But I can't get the image of my husband's blood-spattered face out of my mind.

I'm not naïve; I know the club is into illicit activities. They pride themselves on being outlaws. I also know they sometimes go out and look for trouble. But I never thought my sweet, caring husband—the man who was there for me when no one else was—would be capable of violence that would leave him covered in blood.

Every day, it feels like the man I married is slipping further and further away from me.

The sun shines through the curtains, burning through my eyelids. Lack of sleep and hours of crying have left me worn and weary. But I know regardless of how I'm feeling, my son needs me.

I stumble out of bed and into the bathroom, taking care of business and splashing water on my face in an attempt to wake up. When I grab the towel to dry my face and hands, I look down at the vanity top and find a diluted pink stain. Slowly, almost robotically, I wipe away the spot, wondering if the blood is my husband's ... or someone else's.

And as I recall what Masen looked like last night, his face and arms literally covered in blood, I'm left to wonder if the other person is still alive.

Tossing the towel in the hamper, I leave the bathroom and head straight for Sam's room.

I expect to see his smiling face as he squeals from his crib. What I find is an empty bed and my husband sound asleep in the chair in the corner, Sam held securely in his arms. The sight makes my heart ache in so many ways.

To see Masen cradle Sam so carefully in his arms brings a sad smile to my face. He probably needed comfort last night ... but he pushed me away. I can only be thankful he was able to find it in our son.

Unbidden, I reach for him, my hand coming to rest on his bruised and swollen cheek. Masen's slow exhale as he stirs comes right before he opens his eyes.

"Hey," he says, his voice gravelly from sleep. "I'm sorry, Bella." Remorse shines in his eyes.

"I know," I whisper. "It's okay."

He turns to kiss my palm, closing his eyes and nuzzling into my hand. "It's not. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I promise I won't—"

"Don't," I say, my hand moving to cover his mouth. "Please."

I can't bear to hear him make a promise I know he'll only break.

Winter 2014

"So, he just picked up a showgirl in Vegas ... and got married?" I ask, placing a few more peas on Sam's highchair tray.

"Yeah, and she's like twenty-four."

"Tank's ... How old is he? He's got to be getting close to sixty, right?"

Alice nods, reaching over to tickle Sam's belly while he's distracted by the peas and diced carrots in front of him. "He's older than Pop, so yeah, probably."

I scrunch my nose. "Why would a woman that age marry a guy so much older? That's just—"

"Gross? Disturbing? A little. But I mean, for an old guy, Tank's still got it," she says with a waggle of her eyebrows. "He's a pretty smooth talker, too, just like the rest of them. And it could be worse. He could have brought her back as a mouse. That would have been even worse in my opinion. At least this way she won't get passed around." She visibly shudders.

I shake my head, getting up to grab a washcloth to wipe Sam's face and hands. I try to ignore the reminder of what's available to all the club members. "I guess so. But still." I sigh. "Guess I'll have to work on my polite face when I meet her." Sam fights me as I wipe him off, but he's finally clean enough to release. He crawls away, pulling himself up on the edge of the couch and cruising around the living room. I turn back to Alice. "What did you say her name was?"

"Amber."

Spring 2015

Masen slams his hands on the table. "I don't know what you want me to do, Bella! I'm working every goddamn hour I can at the shop and taking all the jobs Pop will give me with the club that pay anything."

"I don't know what I want you to do, okay?" I shout. "I'm just frustrated. No matter how hard we try, we just can't get caught up." I take a deep breath, attempting to calm down. "Maybe you could ask your—"

He levels me with a glare. "I'm not asking anyone for money, so you can hang up that idea right the fuck now. The best I can do is ask Pop to send me on extra runs for the club. Maybe there's some money in a protection job or something."

I take another breath, treading lightly on the touchy subject of his brother. "What about the deal Edward was talking about? He mentioned several of the guys were investing in Rose's studio to help her expand."

"And what the fuck am I supposed to invest?" he shouts with his arms spread wide. "We're barely making ends meet as it is. Where the fuck am I supposed to take it from? Do you want to not eat for the next few months? Or should I use the money we pay on Sam's bills? My credit is already fucked; I'm sure skipping a few payments wouldn't make a fucking difference at this point."

When we have nothing more to say, he grabs his cut off the hook and storms out the door. The sound of his bike is the last thing I hear, leaving me with no clue how to fix the mess we're in.

Summer 2015

Large, warm hands glide up my bare sides, thumbs and fingertips brushing across my nipples as a kiss is laid on my stomach.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my skin, his lips and tongue barely ghosting my flesh. "And you're mine."

"Yours," I say breathlessly, "all yours."

"I'm gonna take such good care of you, baby."

Shadows move over me in the darkness, the stubble of his jaw deliciously rough as it rubs against me. My hands travel up his arms, over his biceps and shoulders, my fingers winding into his hair. But instead of finding the long locks I'm used to, the strands are shorter.

I tug, forcing him to look at me. His eyes are so intense and green they shine in the dark.

"Edward," I gasp as he slides up my body.

"I'm here, baby," he whispers, nuzzling my neck.

"Oh, Edward." His name is said on a sigh when he slides into me. But as quickly as he's there, he's gone, dissolving like a cloud of smoke dissipating in the wind.

"Mama. Mama. Mama. Am up!"

I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling, my heart pounding and my skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

"You got him?" Masen asks, his voice sounding hollow.

I turn to face my husband, his tired eyes open and somewhat guarded. "Yeah. Are you eating before you go into the shop?"

"If you're making something. But I need to be there a little early."

"Okay." I push back the covers and sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over my face. The effort to shake off my dream is futile. I'm unsettled as I rise from the bed, but I have things to do. I can't sit around and analyze my subconscious. Caffeine would probably help, but it'll be a few minutes before I can start it. A wistful dream of buying a programmable coffee pot floats through my mind, but it quickly disappears.

When I walk into my son's room, I can't help but smile. "Good morning, Sammy. How's my baby boy?"

"Boy!" Sam's standing, his tiny hands gripping onto the crib railing as he bounces, a huge smile on his face. "Up, Ma! Up!"

"Yes, I see that." I scoop him into my arms and kiss his cheek, making him squeal. "Let's get you changed so we can make daddy some breakfast."

"Daddy!"

Once Sam's changed and strapped into his highchair with a handful of Cheerios to keep him occupied, I start on breakfast. Toaster waffles and scrambled eggs are simple and fast, and, along with the coffee, they're ready by the time Masen comes out.

"Thanks," he says as he sits, grabbing the full mug from my hands.

"Welcome." I tear a waffle into tiny bits and place them on Sam's tray, smiling when his face lights up as he shovels fistfuls into his mouth.

"I'm gonna be late tonight," Masen says around a mouthful, gaining my attention. He's shoveling his food in faster than his son.

"Are you working or—"

"Club stuff."

"Oh."

After his last bite, he guzzles down the rest of his coffee and stands. "I'll see you tonight."

Leaving his dirty plate on the table, he grabs his keys and his cut and walks out the door.

I sigh, feeling like the dark cloud that's been between Masen and me for so long can't possibly get any heavier. But when Sam squeals as he squishes some scrambled eggs through his fingers, I smile at him. "It's just me and you, baby boy. What are we going to do today?"

"Day!"

The whole day passes without a word from my husband. I have no idea where he is or when I'll see him. I'm resigned to the fact I'll put my son to bed yet again without his father here to say goodnight.

The smoke from Carmen's cigarette drifts through the screen door while she sits at her patio table under the carport. Not in the mood to have yet another argument about how her smoke affects her great-grandson, I snatch Sam off the floor and take him to his room. "You wanna play with your blocks before bed?"

"Pay bocks," he says with a definitive nod.

I place him in the center of his rug and grab the bin filled with wooden blocks, dumping a few in front of him and the rest beside him.

"Can you build mommy a tower?" I ask as I sit next to him.

As his pudgy hand reaches for a block, my cell rings. It's a number I don't recognize, but it's local.

"Hello?"

"Hey." I recognize the voice, but it's distorted and garbled, like there's something in his mouth.

"Masen?"

"Yeah. Hey, I need you to give Rick a call."

I close my eyes and hang my head, wondering why I need to call the bail bondsman for the second time in a year. "What did you do now?"

"Got into a fight."

"Let me guess, club business?"

He huffs a breath, clearly annoyed with me already. "Look, can you do it or not? If you can't, you'll have to call Pop to come down to county with some cash and bail me out."

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. "I'll be down there as soon as I can," I whisper.

It takes me longer than it should to convince Carmen to sit with Sam, and I hate it. I'm a nervous wreck he'll have an episode while I'm gone, but I don't have much choice.

Taking my toddler to the county jail to bail out daddy probably isn't the best idea.

The stop at the bondsman is quick, and I leave with the money I need. When I arrive, they take their sweet time. The only saving grace is that he was picked up in a different town, which means I don't have to suffer the stares and snide remarks that would undoubtedly come from Charlie and his department.

Once Masen's been processed and released, we walk out together, but we haven't spoken a word to each other. With his face battered and bruised, I can barely look at him.

The car ride home is quiet, and I'm just waiting for one of us to crack. For some reason it feels like a victory when he's the one to break the silence.

"Sammy with Gran?"

"He is. It's past his bedtime. And besides," I say, glancing over at him before turning back to the road, "I didn't think county was the best place to take our son."

He exhales a slow, heavy breath as he gazes out the window.

"Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?"

"Would it make a difference?" he asks, still staring out into the darkness.

My grip on the wheel tightens, and I flex my fingers, trying to relax. "I don't know," I finally admit.

When we pull into the driveway, I cut the engine. The silence between us is deafening. We're mere inches apart, but it feels like he's a million miles away.

"I'm pretty sure the guy isn't gonna drop the charges this time," he says, dragging me from my thoughts.

I swallow hard and turn to him. "Mase, we can't afford a lawyer."

He nods, his gaze still on the window. "I know."

Without another word, he opens the car door and walks inside, with me following him into the trailer.

As expected, Carmen is waiting up for us, her ever-present cigarette in her hand. "What've you done this time?"

"Nice to see you, too, Gran," he scoffs, walking past her to the refrigerator. He grabs a beer from inside and twists off the top, guzzling half of it down as he leans against the counter.

"You look like shit," Carmen says, joining us in the kitchen.

Masen grins, and sarcasm drips from his words. "You should see the other guy."

Her eyes narrow on her grandson. "That's real mature, Masen."

And if to prove her point, he stomps off, leaving Carmen and me to stare at one another.

"I hope you're ready for a lifetime of this garbage," she finally says, "because that's the road he's going down. First, it's barroom brawls and petty garbage, but one of these days he's going to do something he won't be able to come back from." She takes a few steps in my direction, stopping just before she walks past. "Mark my words, that club is going to cost him everything." She turns to meet my eyes. "If we're lucky it'll be you or his freedom. But with that attitude of his, I worry it'll be his life."

A/N: And so begins Masen's fall from grace. There was a lot going on in this chapter. I'd love to hear what you thought.

This is the last we'll hear from Bella, and it only goes downhill from here. Only two more to go in Masen's POV, and they're not pretty. I hope you're all still with me! Just remember, we all knew from the beginning there wouldn't be a HEA for any of them in this story.

The best way to stay up to date with what I'm up to, check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics. I'd love if you all could join us. I'm also on Twitter at CSunshine1220.

"See" you next week!

Be kind.
Stay safe.
Stay well.

Lots of love
~Sunshine