Read Online MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 2: (Motorcycle Club Romance Novel) by Bink Cummings - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bink Cummings
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from
what I’ve gathered it was a rough one. Tattoos, biker gangs—,”
“Motorcycle club,” I cut him off,
already becoming exceedingly frustrated by his lack of proper details and
ignorance. So much for my cheery mood. “Not gangs, there is a huge difference.
And it wasn’t rough, I loved my childhood.”
“You did?” He sounds surprised.
“Yes, of course I did. I had a bunch
of brutish bikers who loved me and raised me. I had more than one father figure
growin’ up. What’s not to like about that? I was spoiled, and treated like a
princess. Sure, shit was fucked up sometimes, and I saw some shit most kids
shouldn’t. It doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. I loved it.”
This is case and point as to why I
didn’t tell Marshall about my past. I am not embarrassed by it. I just know
it’s hard for those looking from the outside in to see the beauty and love that
the Sacred Sinners share. They can’t wrap their single-minded brains around it.
Kind of like narrow-minded people not understanding gays, interracial
relationships, or polygamy lifestyles. Anything outside of their ‘ normal ’ is simply wrong or viewed that
way. It’s something I’ve been faced with my entire life growing up in a
motorcycle club. Not saying what we face is the same as all those others I’ve
mentioned. What I’m saying is we are all different. Not worse, not better, just
different. As a society who bases everything in life off what is classified as normal , anything outside of that realm is
absurd and frowned upon.
“Then, Darling, why didn’t you tell
me?”
“Do you think you could have
understood? That I moved from a club that I loved but still wanted to move
from? Doesn’t make much sense, huh? There were factors as to why I left. It
doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate and love the lifestyle. And there is no way a
lawyer raised in Chicago his whole life could even understand how I was raised
and not get all judgmental on me.
I know we are opposites of the spectrum. That is why I like dating you. You are
nothing like the men I grew up with. You’re classy, have great tastes, are
refined, you don’t cuss, and are still a loving, caring person. All those
things I like about you.”
“I love you, Eva, and I’m sorry. I’ll
try not to be judgmental. It was just a shock for me, okay? So when are you
coming home? I miss the baby and your warm body beside mine in bed.”
“You miss me and the baby?” I try to
stomp down the disbelief in my voice, but it’s hard to do.
He lovingly chuckles, which brings a
soft grin to my face. I love his voice; it’s not as deep as Big’s, but it’s
still sexy with a slight midwestern accent. “Of course, I do, silly. Why
wouldn’t I? I started dating you right when we found out you were pregnant. If
I didn’t care for her and you, I wouldn’t be in this relationship, now would I?
You’re a package deal, and I am fine with that. Just like I’ve been fine with
you keeping her father’s identity a secret, and allowing me to take on that role.
Which I am happy to take.”
I’ve understood that Marshall loves
me, and he’s accepted that I am pregnant. I never actually thought about him wanting to take on the responsibility as a
pseudo father. I can respect that about him, it’s undeniably sweet. Although,
that’s not what I want or expect. She is Big’s daughter, and up until now I
never thought about someone else taking his place. Not that I want him to be a
dad, but someone else adopting that role? That just seems… wrong.
To deter Marshall from clicking into
father mode, I change the subject altogether. This topic is something I will
have to iron out on another day. Today not being it.
“Well, I won’t be home until probably
Sunday. Give me a few more days to calm down. And give yourself a few more days
to try to come to terms with all that you’ve learned, and make sure you still
want this relationship.
what I’ve gathered it was a rough one. Tattoos, biker gangs—,”
“Motorcycle club,” I cut him off,
already becoming exceedingly frustrated by his lack of proper details and
ignorance. So much for my cheery mood. “Not gangs, there is a huge difference.
And it wasn’t rough, I loved my childhood.”
“You did?” He sounds surprised.
“Yes, of course I did. I had a bunch
of brutish bikers who loved me and raised me. I had more than one father figure
growin’ up. What’s not to like about that? I was spoiled, and treated like a
princess. Sure, shit was fucked up sometimes, and I saw some shit most kids
shouldn’t. It doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. I loved it.”
This is case and point as to why I
didn’t tell Marshall about my past. I am not embarrassed by it. I just know
it’s hard for those looking from the outside in to see the beauty and love that
the Sacred Sinners share. They can’t wrap their single-minded brains around it.
Kind of like narrow-minded people not understanding gays, interracial
relationships, or polygamy lifestyles. Anything outside of their ‘ normal ’ is simply wrong or viewed that
way. It’s something I’ve been faced with my entire life growing up in a
motorcycle club. Not saying what we face is the same as all those others I’ve
mentioned. What I’m saying is we are all different. Not worse, not better, just
different. As a society who bases everything in life off what is classified as normal , anything outside of that realm is
absurd and frowned upon.
“Then, Darling, why didn’t you tell
me?”
“Do you think you could have
understood? That I moved from a club that I loved but still wanted to move
from? Doesn’t make much sense, huh? There were factors as to why I left. It
doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate and love the lifestyle. And there is no way a
lawyer raised in Chicago his whole life could even understand how I was raised
and not get all judgmental on me.
I know we are opposites of the spectrum. That is why I like dating you. You are
nothing like the men I grew up with. You’re classy, have great tastes, are
refined, you don’t cuss, and are still a loving, caring person. All those
things I like about you.”
“I love you, Eva, and I’m sorry. I’ll
try not to be judgmental. It was just a shock for me, okay? So when are you
coming home? I miss the baby and your warm body beside mine in bed.”
“You miss me and the baby?” I try to
stomp down the disbelief in my voice, but it’s hard to do.
He lovingly chuckles, which brings a
soft grin to my face. I love his voice; it’s not as deep as Big’s, but it’s
still sexy with a slight midwestern accent. “Of course, I do, silly. Why
wouldn’t I? I started dating you right when we found out you were pregnant. If
I didn’t care for her and you, I wouldn’t be in this relationship, now would I?
You’re a package deal, and I am fine with that. Just like I’ve been fine with
you keeping her father’s identity a secret, and allowing me to take on that role.
Which I am happy to take.”
I’ve understood that Marshall loves
me, and he’s accepted that I am pregnant. I never actually thought about him wanting to take on the responsibility as a
pseudo father. I can respect that about him, it’s undeniably sweet. Although,
that’s not what I want or expect. She is Big’s daughter, and up until now I
never thought about someone else taking his place. Not that I want him to be a
dad, but someone else adopting that role? That just seems… wrong.
To deter Marshall from clicking into
father mode, I change the subject altogether. This topic is something I will
have to iron out on another day. Today not being it.
“Well, I won’t be home until probably
Sunday. Give me a few more days to calm down. And give yourself a few more days
to try to come to terms with all that you’ve learned, and make sure you still
want this relationship.
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