Chapter 247: Muffins with Michael
*You come back anytime. Babies need lots of love. - Joanna*
Question a biker’s masculinity and he’ll strip down to his jeans, wash his hands for three minutes and volunteer to hold a baby.
“Damn.” Chance muttered as he realized that he had been played. The nurse just smiled knowingly at him.
But then Joanna opened the door and he saw Rye in the rocking chair. She had on a hospital gown that was carefully covering the tiniest baby he had ever seen. All he could see was the top of his head and the outline of where the little guy was hugged against her chest.
Rye was singing a beautiful song to him in a sweet voice. It was soft and gentle. Listening for a moment, he could only smile as he realized that Five Finger Death Punch could sound soothing.
“I love listening to her sing.” Joanna whispered with a smile.
At hearing her, Rye continued to sing about being on the wrong side of heaven but looked up. Her smile disappeared when her eyes landed on Chance. But her singing never faltered.
Joanna ignored the tension; it was something that she saw all too often. Carefully she removed Michael from inside the wrap. “Let’s give mom a break. What do you say, little guy? Okay, you, up and go change.”
Clutching the material tightly around herself, Rye stood and walked out of the small room. Joanna saw the daggers that Rye aimed towards the man. And he watched her leave with confusion.
“Come on, uncle.” Joanna tapped the chair and he dutifully sat. “Skin to skin contact is best.” She placed the baby on his tattooed chest, and he instinctively splayed a hand over his little body.
“His mother didn’t even know she was pregnant until he came into this world. He’s lucky that Rye came into his life.” The nurse said placing a light blanket over the baby.
“What do you mean?”
“Rye’s sister had him and then walked away. Rye dropped her whole life and came up here for him.” She stood up and smiled down at the man who looked enamored by the baby. Joanne looked towards the door to make sure that Rye wasn’t coming in. She was not breaking any rules or laws by giving him this information. But she was bending them damned hard.
“You’re the first of her friends to come see him.” Joanne said quietly. “They need someone to lean on.”
“She’s very independent.” Chance said adjusting the baby as Michael fussed.
“And fiercely stubborn.” Joanne added as the door began to open.
“He’s so little.” Chance murmured.
“He’s almost twice as big as when he was born.” Rye said quietly as she came back in. She couldn’t look at Chance with Michael on his chest and not feel something. All she wanted to feel was hatred.
She chose not to look.
“I’ll let you three have some privacy.” Joanna said leaving through the second door in the room. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I brought your breakfast.” Chance said and then chuckled. “Not sure if that is quite as noteworthy as I carried a watermelon.”
Rye grabbed the bag and sat in the other rocking chair. “Why would you carry a watermelon?”
“*Dirty Dancing*.” Chance said and she shook her head no. “Patrick Swayze. Jennifer Gray.”
“Never saw it.” She said with a shrug as she peeled the paper off the large muffin.
“It’s a classic.” He smiled at her and considered suggesting that they watch it together.
“I haven’t watched a movie just because in a long time.” She mused and took a bite of her muffin.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
“After dad died, there was no one to keep mom on her medication. She spiraled out of control and took my sister with her.” It was said so many times that she never even thought about it anymore.
“How old were you?” he asked, surprised that she told him that.
“Thirteen when dad died, mom was four years after that.”
Emotionless. That was how Chance thought she acted. But he saw the pain that flickered across her face before she closed herself off.
He thought of her high school graduation picture. She was still tired. She was still hurt. The world was still beating her down.
She had just gotten better at hiding it.
“I’m sorry.” Chance said honestly. “My dad died when I was twenty-three.”
“I’m sorry.” She gave him a real smile.
Looking at his bare arms and shoulders, she found herself liking what she saw. Strong muscles. Beautiful tattoos.
Then she remembered what went with those muscles and tattoos.
Selfishness. Bad choices. Alcohol. Drugs. Danger.
“Ryanne.” Chance said softly and she looked at him. Her guard was not in place. He saw her vulnerability, pain and fear. “I wish you could trust me. You need a friend.”
“I haven’t had a friend in a really long time.” She admitted quietly. “I’m not good at being a friend.”
“I’m sure you’re a great friend.” He told her as he started rocking again.
She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. Looking at her, Chance didn’t see the woman that irritated him. He didn’t see the woman he antagonized as easily as he seduced others. He saw the woman who was broken and yet incredibly strong.
He was seeing her vulnerability and resolve, and he found himself saying something that even he did not expect.
“If I promise to keep my hands to myself, will you let me be your friend?”
“I’ll think about it.” She whispered fighting back tears.
Chance smiled at her, unable to stop the smile, or the warm feeling on his chest. Michael scrunched up on Chance’s chest and made a squeaking sound. The scent hit him at the same time that his hand under the little guy’s diaper suddenly felt warm.
Rye and Chance looked at each other as they both started to laugh.
“Dude, that *is* rank!” Chance told the baby who was asleep with a contented smile on his face.
“Formula poop.” Rye said as she stood up to change his diaper.
“Finish eating. I’ve got him.”
Standing up and moving to the changing table, he did not see her eyes fill with hopeful tears.
