Paroled

Paroled 22

There was still a pit in Opie's stomach when he left Eva. He hated that he gave in and asked but he hated that she said no even more, leaving her at the house after was the final plague on his sanity for that day.

When he arrived at the clubhouse, Opie took a seat across from Jax at one of the picnic tables that were shaded by the large awning. They both lit cigarettes and sat quietly for a moment before either of them spoke.

"You were right," Opie finally said.

"Huh?" Jax looked up from his coffee.

"I asked her, she said no," he smirked a little. "But we're finally moving in."

Jax's expressionless face went from concern to happiness with the speed of Opie's news. "Well shit, congratulations, brother."

"Thanks," Opie was already feeling better about the failed proposal.

"She moving in with you?"

"I don't think so," Opie shook his head. "Her place is nicer."

"And it's in her name," Jax joked. "I talked to Unser about her ex."

"Anything?"

"Nah," Jax shook his head. "He kept the case open hoping shit would pop but there was nothing, he was just a psycho."

"What's with our girls and psycho ex-boyfriends?"

Jax rolled his eyes as he brought his cigarette up to his lips again. "They're both dead now though," Jax said cheerfully as he and Opie clinked their coffee mugs together.

"Did I come all the way down here just for that?" Opie asked, not really caring but wondering when he could get back to Eva.

"Nah," Jax huffed. "Club shit, need a full table, gotta fill out runs. Won't take long."

It didn't take long, the business portion of it at least, but by the time Opie got back to the house it was dark and late.

Quietly he unlocked the door and stepped inside, kicking off his boots and leaving his keys by the table as usual. He dragged his feet up the stairs, exhausted, buzzed and hoping she wasn't angry that he'd disappeared for so long.

"Babe?" He whispered into the bedroom and for a sleepy moan in response. "It's just me, I'm gonna jump in the shower."

"Come here," he heard her mumble from the pillow.

Opie flung his clothes off and got into bed, immediately moving to kiss Eva. She welcomed it and rather quickly climbed on top of him. Opie was buzzed and tired but still noticed the perfume she was wearing. It was different than he was used to but it didn't matter, not while she was rocking back and forth on him in, her palms pressed against his chest.

Almost immediately after they finished, she rolled off him and cuddled close.

"I'm gonna get in the shower," he said quietly.

"Mm hmm," she said dismissively and rolled over.

Opie slipped out of the room and got a quick shower hoping for a second round when he was done. He dried off and pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts that Eva always insisted he wear. On his way back to bed he poked his head into the baby's room.

"Hey, he alright?" Opie asked noticing she was rocking the baby.

"Just fussy," she said in a whisper.

"Alright," Opie shrugged, his buzz making him more tired than usual. He'd been home so much more often he wasn't used to nights with the guys and more than just a few beers.

Opie got into bed and fell asleep only to be woken a few minutes later by Harry's cries, he waited to see if he'd stop but the child only grew more upset. He groaned a little and got up, wondering where Eva had gone, but when he got into the baby's room the crib was empty.

"Eva?" He called out. "Babe?"

There was some movement downstairs, footsteps and other thumps, all normal sounds but he still wanted to see what the hell was going on. He wondered if it was weed that made him feel so confused, it was a new uneasy feeling and he hated it.

On his way to investigate he heard the back door slam shut and he instantly got a sick feeling in his stomach. Hurrying down the steps he searched the living and dining rooms but there was no baby and no Eva. When he rushed into the kitchen Opie felt his feet squish into something wet. He flicked the light on to see a trail of blood leading from the kitchen to the laundry room.

"No, no, no," he repeated. Opie whispered it over and over as some type of prayer as he followed the short path but found it would be unanswered. At the far end of the laundry room Eva was curled into the fetal position in a pool of blood.

"Oh baby," he moaned, rolling her over to see if she was even still alive. "Eva," he whispered, searching for a pulse. Once he found it, a wave of relief hitting him, he slipped and slid on the bloody tile as he ran to call an ambulance.

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