#dad!bo sinclair

******************

“Co’ere,” Bo says softly, his hand reaching out to you. There’s a gleam in his eye, something new to him. “Darlin’ rose, come closer?”

Absorbing the sunlight on your freckle kissed skin, it looked like you were gliding through the rays as if they were water. Though the wooden floors absorbed most of the light, you were still the brightest star in the universe. How did he get so lucky? What star fell from the sky and decided to spend its final light on him? If he could bask in your golden rays, he would die with his heart shimmering like cooper coil.

His hands were calloused as you took his, and he pulled you down for your back against his chest. Subconsciously, his hand reached around your growing bump as if he were protecting it from the dust of his own darkness.

“Six months in and you’re still as pretty as ever,” he drawls, kissing the top of your head. “Sugar, think they hear us talk? Hear your pretty voice an’ me going off?”

He shudders silently as your hand slipped over his. “I would like to think they do,” you answered, rubbing your thumb over his knuckle. “You nervous about the doctor’s appointment tomorrow?”

Huffing a breath, he buried his face between the corner of your jaw. He nods slowly as his other hand wrapped around your chest, squeezing you slightly. “They said twins, doll,” concern laced his words, “what if they’re not…if they…shit, I can’t think of stand the thought of they’re—“

“They won’t be like you or Vincent,” you reassured, running your other hand through his hair. Your fingers brushed the long, jagged scar on the back of his head, and it made him tense up and growl a warning. “Dr. Henrik—“

“What if he’s wrong?” He cuts your words off as he turns his head to look at you, but he stayed on your shoulder. “What if they’re connected? I can’t,” he tried to find his words in a scrambled notebook, “I don’t want my children to go through what Vinny an’ I did. I don’t wanna see’em get bullied for a scar or anything.”

You shifted slightly in his arms to see him better, and you lifted his face up. “Beauregard, listen,” you thumbed the scar on his chin. It was so old that it was nearly a foreign thing to his face but the pain still lingered. “Our children will know love and be loved because we love,” your words felt like a heavy yet warm hug to him, and he couldn’t help but believe in your words, “and you are not your parents. We aren’t like them.”

“Mama said—“

“She lied about calling you a monster,” you already knew what he was going to say, “because I see you, Bo. I see you.” Your lips brushed against his before claiming a small kiss. “I mean it when I say it. You’ll do great.”

The weight of the world rolled off his shoulders after your kiss and encouragement. You truly are a wishing star. “Thank you, darlin’,” he said, pulling you back in his to his heart. The uneasy barbed wires that stung his air and heart washed away. “If I keep gettin’ worried, just…just remind me, okay?”

“Okay,” you kisses his cheek then nestled into his warmth. “I love you, Bo.”

He responded with a kiss on the neck and tightening his arms, grunting an acknowledgment. He’ll say it; give him time. That’s all he needs, really: time. Time to grow with you and his sons, time to find out who he’ll be when his children are here, and time to change the scarred past to a better future. You and Jasmine are here, the daughter he has no blood with but he’ll kill anyone for her. Now she won’t be lonely as much as he was before Lester was born.

“I told you over and over to stay away from Vincent’s wax melter!” He snaps, his anger building up. “You have any idea how stupid you are? Any clue?”

You could hear him yelling from the stairs as he came up to the bathroom where you were. You were shaking as you tried to put aloe on your burns, but tears stung your eyes and made it blur. You didn’t mean to be that close to the wax melter; you just wanted to look inside it! How were you supposed to know that was hot to touch and could burn you when you rested your arm against the metal? How are you supposed to learn if you never try it? Bo told you time and time, over and over, not to go into Vincent’s workspace without him, but you were curios today and went down in secret. You always wanted to see what it looked like on the inside, so who was Bo to be mad at because he never told you?

“Answer me!” His shouts, his hand hitting the door, causing you jump. “You’re just as stupid as your mother! Didn’t know how to listen to a simple thing... are you dumb or something?” You tried not to flinch when he yelled, but your shoulder jerked and tensed as he yelled, “Now, I gotta make sure you ain’t leavin’ dis house! ‘Cause I thought you were better than dat!” His eyes harden when your eyes didn’t look up at his. “Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

His hand turned you around and grabbed a hold of your face, forcing you to look up—

Bo’s angry blue eyes broken when a sob escaped your lips, crying out, “I’m sorry, Papa! I’m sorry!”

Hsi tight grip loosens, and he lets go as he steps away from you. He looked down at his hands, realizing they were shaking, then looked at himself in the mirror on the wall in the hall. He didn’t see himself; he saw Trudy and his father with a victory smile as if they were saying that they taught him well. He was becoming like his own parents, and it burned him.

“Sunshine,” he breathed, his eyes softening. “Darlin’, I-I didn’t mean...shit, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He took slow steps and knelt in front of your trembling form. “My God—Papa’s so sorry. He didn’t mean for his anger to be like that. He’s sorry...he’s so sorry.” His hands still shook as he held your arms, feeling like you were glass. He’ll do better; he has to do better.

And he compared you to your mother—

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, holding back a sob. “I’m sorry—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” he hushes softly, his fingers being gentle as he looked over you. “Dida get hurt anywhere else?”

You shook your head as fat tears fell slow.

"Can you say 'Bo'?" You asked in your mother voice, a smile on your face. "Come on, Jazzy, say 'Bo'!"

"Shouldn't encorage to hav' 'er say my name, darlin'," Bo said glancing over his shoulder. "Have 'er say 'mama' or somethin' like that." He started working on the car you and Todd came. "When did ya last get 'is thin' an oil change?"

You shrugged as you bounced Jasmine on your hip, smiling at her happily. "Todd always took care of that." You heard an audible sigh and the hood slamming. "Is it that bad, Bo?"

"Well, ain't gonna lie, darlin', but your car," he thumbed behind him and threw his rag, "is done. Never drive ‘at heep o’ shit again."

You lifted a brow before looking at Jasmine. "Well... that sucks, huh, Jazzy? There goes out escape plan," you joked. "Trapped here forever."

Bo shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I'll have Lester bring the trailer down an' scrap it. Make more money than fixin' it." He placed a hand on his hip and fixed his hat. "Sorry, Mama, but it ain't drivin' no more." His eyes flickered down at Jasmine and watched her bright eyes looking back at him. "She seems lost."

"Jasmine’s just looking around, Bo," you answered, smiling. "She was always a wanderer just like my mother." You gave her an Eskimo kiss and smiled at her giggle. To Bo, it melted his heart. "She's just trying to figure the world out."

He takes a deep breath in and motioned you to follow him out. "Le'me close up an' we c'n get home-"

"Hello?" Your head snapped to the front door and saw young man walk in with two of his friends. "Anyone here?"

Bo gave you a look then led the way to the front of the shop. He puts on a fake smile and says, "Yeah, jus' caught me." He sounded cheerful when he said, "Was gonna close up soon."

"Would it trouble you to replace our spark plugs?" The man asked. "Me and my buddies have the slightest on what to do an--" his face was caught off when his green eyes landed on you. He straightens up and nods his head. "Ma'am," he said.

"Gentlemen," you replied. You stood between him and Bo before turning to look at Bo, saying, "I'll head up to the house and start dinner."

"I won't be long, sugar," Bo said, leaning down to kiss your head. "Promise."

They boys by the door parted and let you pass throw.

******************

Jasmine played on the floor with little horse stuffies while you cooked dinner. Bo dropped hints of cooking pot roast and green beans with potatoes. Besides, he’s been working hard in the shop the past couple of nights along with making sure you and Jasmine are fitting in well.

Ever since you started living freely with the Sinclair Brothers, you were left with the house keeping and cooking job. Thought it's not the best picture of how you wanted to spend your life, but you had the freedom to move around within the house and around the dead town. Though you were watched with careful eyes, the fear you had with them would fade over time. Yes, the murdering and blood shed scares you, but tried their best to keep that away from you and from Jasmine.

Living with the brothers felt like you were living in a strange home. Lester brought you along to the store for baby shopping, and he always stopped after the trip to get your drink order at Starbucks. Vincent was a natural at rocking Jasmine to sleep when you were busy, and he enjoyed feeding her when you were tired or needed to rest. Bo found himself looking over you and her as time went on, and you would wake up to him some times at night with him looking into the crib, his hand holding Jasmine's fingers. When you saw the high chairs and baby photos, you learned why they made sure to keep Jasmine happy, to keep her away from them, to keep loving on her until their hearts give out.

If you were honest with yourself, you wanted to burn Bo’s high chair.

When you asked Lester why it’s there, he shakes his head. “Bo doesn’t know how to heal,” he answered as he nodded to his brother working in the shop. “This is the only way he can.”

Even if he doesn't show it, you knew Bo was in love with Jasmine. Besides seeing him with her at night, you would catch some glances of him holding her on his hip while he shows her the inside of a car, telling her all about the engine of a '68 Dodge. He would call her little star, sunshine, lady bug, sweetheart-- you kept seeing the shine in his eyes when he was around her. Of course, things weren't always calm and sunshine, but he never yelled at her like Todd did. Never once has he called her dumb or stupid.

Maybe you agreeing to stay in this town was good for the three of you.

Humming to the radio by the stove, you started cooking the potatoes when he came home. You glanced over your shoulder to greet him but your face fell once you saw him limping in with his hand holding his thigh.

“What happened?” You asked as you met him in the hall, taking a towel and the first-aid. After being here for two months, you learned that it's best to keep the first-aid within reach.

“Got stabbed,” Bo hissed, breathing through his teeth. “One of ‘em got brave and headed towards the house, too.” He then looks at Jasmine, who still played with her toys. “He was gunnin’ fer ‘at lil’ one.”

“How do you know?”

He bit the corner of his lips. “Just knew. Didn’t lik’ the way he was lookin’ at ya an’ ‘er.” His drawl was heavier than normal. “Should’ve said nothin’, girl, an’ snuck out in the tunnels.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bo grumbles to himself as he lets you tend to his leg. His eyes linger from you towards Jasmine. For a moment, the anger burning in his irises dimmed when Jasmine showed off her stuffed pink horse to him before playing again. Once her gaze was gone, his anger sparked again.

"Never do 'at again, woman," he warned, as he leaned back in the chair. "Men are dangerous 'round children."

"Are you dangerous?" He didn't mean to ask him, but as soon as those words left, he glared at you. "Sorry."

"I'll let it pass just once," he murmurs, "but don' say 'at shit again."

Bo leans back and closes his eyes, taping his fingers on the arm rest. As he felt the pain start to fade, his eyes linger over Jasmine as she plays with her horse. His relaxed his shoulders against the wood and watched her little horse wiggle in the air as of it was flying, grinning slightly at her movements.

"Dinner's almost ready," you say as you came back with water and two pain killers. "Just cooking the potatoes now."

"Yeah?" He asked, lifting a brow. He takes the pills and gulps down the water. "That's awful kind 'o ya."

As you two started talking about dinner, Jasmine sat and watched the both of you with curious eyes. She uses the couch to help her stand, dropping her horse, and pulled herself up. Once she was standing up, she takes shaky steps forward, her mind competly forgettign the horse under her feet. Tripping, she falls down, looks around, and opens her mouth, crying loudly.

Bo jolted as he heard her started to cry. He watched you scoop up your child and kisses her head as you tried to calm her. Her little hands reached out towards Bo, bright eyes burning through tears as she cried out, "Dada!"

It's like time froze and the world stopped spinning. Bo's eyes grew wide as he looked at you and back at Jasmine. "What... what did she just--"

"Dada!” Her little hands reached for him, tearfully crying out, “Bo!”

Just like that, Bo's heart shattered in two million pieces. Her little hands reached for him still as she wiggling in your grasp. With his hands still bloodied, Bo opened his arms and nodded at you, reassuring that it's okay for you to leave him, but you can't... not while he's covered in someone else's blood.

Though the pain was still there, Bo moved quickly from the den to the kitchen. He scrubbed and washed up as best as he could, took off his work uniform shirt and tossed it aside, and dried off as well as he could. He heard the basement door opening and Vincent entering from downstairs.

Before Bo could fill him in, Jasmine cried out, "Bo! Dada!"

Vincent felt his stomach drop as he looked at you and Jasmine. His lone eye looks back at Bo and pointed, eye wide in shock, signing, 'Did she just say your name? Or am I really dehydrated?'

"Ya heard right," Bo breathed. He limps away from Vincent and headed back into the living room. He held out his hands, motioning that he was reader, and you gave her to Bo.

This was his first time holding her since the day he got you away from Todd. Truly holding her close, not like when he has her on his hip while working on a car.

As soon as you place her in his arms, something clicked in his brain. The way she looked at her with tearful eyes and her hands reached for him to hug, Bo’s world rocked. He heldJasmine so close and protectively as he rocked back and forth, hushing her gently. Feeling her again in his arms felt almost right, but he’s not her dad. He’ll be a good enough father, he knows, but…

“You’re okay, star shine,” he whispered as he felt her calming. “Ya just bummed yer knee. Nothin’ to cry about.” He walked away from you as he paced in the other room with the pool table. He nodded at you to take care of the food while he takes care of Jasmine. “Yer okay. You’ll be alright.”

“Dada,” she whines as her little hands gripped his shirt. “Bo.”

How fast can a heart shatter and build up again? Is there a study out there that could answer Bo’s question?

He rested her head against his heart as he took shaky breaths. He’s not ready. He’ll never be ready. “Shh, star shine,” he whispers. “Rest ‘at lil’ head. I’m here. Bo’ll always be here.”

From the kitchen, Vincent started the potatoes and had you watch from the doorway. Were you in love with him, or did you just see him as a father figure? As much as you tried an answer, you couldn’t make since of it yet. Todd was her dad, but any boy can be a dad. Bo was a man; he was a better father than Todd. You just can’t tell him yet.

So, you watched as Bo swayed back and forth with Jasmine in his arms, murmuring a song only for her to hear. Slowly, he leaned against the pool table. His eyes was filled with so much warmth and carefulness when he looked down at Jasmine. You had to admit he knew what he was doing, and Jasmine fell asleep right away in his arms. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. The walls that he built and the lies he believed fell so fast to let her in.

Dada. Bo.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a sigh escaped. He’ll kill a thousand men just to keep Jasmine safe, to keep you happy and well, to keep what lever type of… family? Relationship? What is the best word to say? But he looked down at Jasmine as if she was his own, and a grin formed. Bo will fight off every and any monster that dare comes near his home.

***********

Later that night, you woke to the sound of your bedroom door opening and feet shuffling across the floor. Turning, you found Bo in sleeping pants, shirtless, and holding Jasmine in his arms. Her head rested against his shoulder as he swayed slightly back and forth with his eyes closed. You heard him hum a lullaby low and soft just for her. When his eyes parted, he made eyes contact with you, smiled, and laid her back down ever so slowly and gently.

Bo turned his heels and tucked you back in. “Rest, Mama,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow.” Then Bo turned and left the room, closing the door silently.

Three days has past since you came here with your child. Three days since the hole in your stomach grew and shrunk all at once. Three days since you've moved from the bed, letting a stranger care for you baby girl along with you. He shot your husband and sunk his body at the bottom of the creek. Only Louisiana and his shot gun know what he did, and you weren't sure if you were thankful or scared. If he could kill your husband, why hasn't he turned the barrel on you?

Sometimes, you would look over to see him cradling your daughter in his arms lovingly. He seems to know how to hold a child, you noticed, but you can see how scared he was when he bounced the child slightly in his arms and hands, whispering to her gently. Yesterday, you woke up to find him in the chair in the corner of the room feeding her and talking to her in a low voice.

"Ya think Mama will move t'day?" He asked Jasmine. "If not, 'at's fine." His eyes met yours, kind and gentle, then looked down at Jasmine. "Until then, ya reckon she might lik' steak? Been itching t'cook sum. Fire up the coals 'n cook." Then he chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Bet ya if I put som' in t'blinder, I reckon y'all drink it."

You couldn't help but shake your head. "She can't have meat yet."

Bo's eyes meet yours and gave an award winning smile. "Yer talkin' now, huh?" He stands up with the child in his arms and sat at close to you. As he walked, he talked to Jasmine as if she was his own, saying, "Wanna see Mama, lil' sun-dew?"

He passed her to you, and her bright smile warmed your heart. His little giggles filled the room as you took her from Bo. You cradled her in your arms and kissed her head. You met his gaze as he towered over you his his hands on his hips, his eyes lingering over you and Jasmine.

"She's a good kid, Mama," said, licking the bottom of his lips. "I... I hope I wasn't oversteppin'."

You shake your head as you laid her on her back on your legs. "Normally, I would snap and yell, but you seemed fit for the job in a way."

"Job?"

"Yeah," you locked eyes with him. "You act like as if you're her dad." You let a sad smile form. "Thank you for taking care of us. Of her."

He returned the smile in kind, his hand taking yours and lifted it up to his lips. He left a kiss on your knuckles like a gentleman from one of your romance books. When his eyes met yours, you felt your heart flutter slightly. "Yer welcome, Mama," he drawled, his voice deeper.

But that was yesterday, and yesterday is history.

Last night, you were reminded of who these men truly are: killers, blood chasers, hunters, murders.

A group came in yesterday and one tried to come to the house, but Bo was quicker. You didn't see the kill as you shielded Jasmine from the screams, but you could hear Bo laughing at the man as he tried to fight, to get away from him. You heard the sickening sound of a knife gutting him while he was still wiggling and very much alive. You heard his blood in his throat until there was silence. The hair on your neck stood as you hard his boots come to your door. He knocked before opening the door slightly. He didn't come in, but you could tell his face was painted with crimson red. "Darlin'," he said breathless. "I'm sorry ya had to hear 'at," he said, his voice light and apologetic. "Stay in here, kay? Don't wan'ya or Jasmine seein' t'livin' room."

Since then, you haven't heard him, and you were scared. He could end you today or later. Why hasn't done it yet?

You heard the door open and his boots walk into the room. His boots were heavy as he walked across the floor, and the weight of the bed lowered when he sat at the end. His oil stained mechanic jumper hugged his arms from the Louisiana heat, and the curls under his trucker's hat stuck up from the sweat. He looked over at you then back at the crib where Jasmine slept, taking it off his hat and hung it at his fingers. He brought it down from the attic a couple hours after he brought you to the house with the help of the wax masked man, Vincent. He folded his hands as he leaned forward on his knees.

"Hey," he said lowly, his voice careful when he talked. "I made somethin' fer ya at t'church." You didn't move or give knowledge of him, but you were listening. He knew you were listening. "Le'me change outta these rags an' take ya there. Sound good?"

"Why?" You whispered.

He clinched his jaw and looked up at the the crib again. "Because ya need t'see it, darlin'--"

"Don't call me darlin'," you spat. "I'm not yours."

Normally, he would've hit any woman who would say that to him, but he understands this pain, your pain. You lost something too close to your heart. "Le'me change and I'll come get ya, okay?" He held up his hands. His hat was on his knees, and he put it back on.

As much as you wanted to stay in bed, you nodded. To find the strength to get up from the floor and move on; it will be a long race and it would be an even longer time before you find a way to be better. Is 'better' a good word? To be better after this? You closed your eyes and allowed a tear to shed. The amount of times you've cried and screamed in your pillow in the past three days would've made Todd laugh, his voice calling you pathetic.

You felt a callous finger brush your tear away. You wanted to slap his hand away but you welcomed the touch. It's been a while since you felt actual care. You were hurt, and they knew. They let you mourn for your loss, but...

His hand left but you caught it, pulling at his arm. "Hold me?" You whispered. "Please? I-I don't wanna be alone right now."

Your voice being that soft nearly broke him. He waited for you to scooch over and he kicked off his boots and placed his hat on the nightstand before laying down next to you. You buried your face into his chest and started to cry against. His hand raked through your hair, shushing you gently, as his arms held you closer. There was something him inside that wanted to keep you safe forever and a day. There was something that he wanted to do to keep you alive and well in his life, but you had to say it. He couldn't force you or make you. Bo closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. There are no words in the world that could comfort you, he knows this, but he'll try.

"My brother, Vincent-- you remember him? Well, he'll be 'ere watchin' your kid while we go," he whispers in your hair. "She'll be safe 'ere wit' 'im."

"Why the church?" You whimpered. "Why?"

"Y'all see," he promises. "But, listen... listen," he pulled away and brushed your hair back. "Le'me change. Can't le' t'Lord see me in 'is." You chuckled at his words, giggling at his drawl, and he loved it. He loved hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. He made it his mission to make you smile everyday as long as you were in Ambrose. "I'll drive ya there. Sound good, Mama?"

You closed your eyes and calmed yourself, nodding. "Yes, that's fine."

Bo gave you one last hug before getting up. "I hung a dress on the door if ya wanna wear it." He looked back at you as he stood at the door, looking back at you. "If not, 'at's fine. Ya don' have'ta." He gave you a sad smile and left the room, closing the door softly so he didn't wake Jasmine.

************

Bo combed his hair back with grease and made sure his black suit looked perfect in the mirror. He worse it to see his mother, to visit and mourn still. It's been 4 years since his mother's death, and it's been 5 years since he started killing. His mother died by his hands, and he'll look for forgiveness until his dying breath. Even in the grave and beyond he'll keep looking for it. His mother wouldn't let him in until her dream was filled, and he promised to kill any soul that wondered into this town.

Then you and Jasmine came along, and he had to think back on his words and care. He thought of your smile and your cries. He thought of your blood and how scared that baby was. He didn't like men like Todd, and he didn't want that man in his town part of his mother's dream. What to do with you? He didn't know, but he hopes you stay.

Gods, he hopes you stay with your kid. He always wanted a family, but he never found the right woman to make that happen. He wonders if you're that person, that woman who would learn to love a monster. His father told him he was beyond love, beyond help. He was just a teenager when his father told him this, and he believed him for a long time. Even after killing his father, those words were tattooed over his heart.

But every time he holds Jasmine, her hand wrapping around his finger, and giggle and cooing up at him, his aching heart just burns deeper and brighter for her. She has his heart wrapped around her little fingers the moment she reached up to take his hat.

If there's a God, please, have her stay. Have them stay here.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked at himself. He looked like a true southern gentleman that his mother craved him to be.

Bo came pattering down the stairs and froze when he looked at you. You were dressed in the sundress he picked for you with your hair in a braid. You had Jasmine in your arms as you rocked back and forth in his father's rocking chair. You had a bottle in your hand as you told your story, and it caught Bo in a web.

"...and the wolf huffed and puffed and blew the house down," you cooed, a smile over your lips. He came down the steps quieter as you continued the story. "So, the two little piggies went to the house of bricks and said, 'Brother, the big bad wolf is coming! He knocked down my straw house. He knocked down our brother's stick house. Please, help us!'"

At the bottom of the steps, Lester sat between Vincent's legs, and Bo joined them to listen to the story. Lester rested his head in his hands, a content smile on his face. Vincent had was drawing in a sketch book, and his pencil moved over the paper with ease. The pencil outlined you and Jasmine in lovely shadings. Bo leaned against the railing, looking at you with warmth. Again, something inside him ached as the emptiness filled his lungs. You're such a good mother...

"And the older brother said, 'Of course, brothers! Come inside! The Big Bad Wolf won't get ya!' And they entered the brick house and waited for the wolf. When the wolf came, he said to the house, 'I'm the Big Bad Wolf! And I'll huff and puff and blow the house down and have you little pigs for dinner!'" You pushed Jasmine's light brown curls back, smiling warmly.

The sunlight in your smile made Bo blush, and the fears came over him: what if you leave? What if you don't want to stay? Then what? What would he do? Then something terrible formed. What if he was falling for you too fast?

"And the wolf huffed and puffed and tried to blow the house down, but it didn't move. The bricks stood strong and still. So, the wolf tired again. He huffed and puffed and tried again! The three little piggies were safe inside the house of bricks as they watched the wolf grow tire and tire until there wasn't enough air in his lungs. Soon, the wolf gave up. He turned away and ran off." Your voice grew softer and softer as you pulled the empty bottle away from the sleeping girl's mouth. "And the three little piggies were safe, living happily-ever-after in the older brother's house of bricks."

You stopped rocking and put the bottle aside. The little joy in your arms was all you had left in this strange town. You were afraid of this town, and you would be a fool for not fearing these men.

But that tugging came back inside you, and it said to trust them. They cared. If the didn't they would've let Todd beat you then and there in the House of Wax. If they didn't care, they would've killed you after they too Todd. It's a funny feeling and you didn't know what to do. Even when Bo said Vincent was going to watch your daughter, you felt... comfortable? Certain? Safe? What was that feeling inside you that made you trust Vincent?

You slowly stood up from the chair and cradled your daughter. You nearly jumped to of your skin when you saw the three men sitting at the bottom of the steps, and they were looking at you like a blind man seeing a sunrise for the first time.

"Ya a good mother," Lester hummed, his smile still there. "Mama nev'a tol' us stories lik' 'at."

You gave a sad smile then looked down at your child. "I try to be good," you whispered. you didn't want to wake Jasmine. "I really try."

Bo stepped over his brothers and recomposed himself, straightening his tie. "I'll let ya put the babe down then we can go." He kept his voice down because he was afraid he'll wake her. "Vince and Les will do a good job takin' care of 'er while we go."

"Will we be long?" You asked as you rested Jasmine's head against your shoulder.

"Depends, ma'am," he answers honestly. "But I'll be wit' ya t'whole time." His blue eyes shined as you gave you a grin. "Promise."

You looked between Lester and Vincent, who were starting to stand up from the steps, then you looked down at Jasmine. "Do you two know how to hold a baby?"

"Is it like holdin' a racoon?" Lester asked, tilting his head. "Gotta keep the head up an' mak' sure it don't bite?"

Vincent's hand shot up and smacked him upside the head. He shot him a glance then looked back at you apologetically.

You giggled as you walked towards them. "Hold out your arms." Vincent looked down at the baby then at you. He did as he was told as you placed the baby in Vincent's arm. "Support the neck, watch the head. Yeah, that's right. Hold her there but not too tight..." He followed your instructions. "Now, every now and then, just tap her on the back and rock back and forth. She's already been fed, so she don't need to eat for a couple hours. Hopefully, I'll be back soon." You gave Vincent a smile. "I also changed her nappy, too, so you don't need to worry for a while."

Vincent looked down at the girl and smiled warmly under his mask. She's so tiny in his arm as she rocked back and forth gently. He always wanted a kid.

"We'll be back soon," Bo hummed, looking between Vincent and you. "Won't be long." You followed him to the door and looked back at the two men. Lester was looking over Vincent's shoulder at the little girl, his brown eyes bright and filled with love for her. Vincent swayed gently back and forth, and his mind was already thinking about turning on the classical station to keep the soothing atmosphere. "Be back," Bo promised.

**************

The drive from the house to the church was silent, but it was comfortable and heavy. Bo would look at you then back at the road. The short drive ended, and Bo got out of the truck to open your door, helping you out.

"You didn't need to do that, Bo," you said, a sad smile forming.

"Hush," Bo answered. "Was betta than t'let it happen." He held out his arm and you took it. "Com'on. I... we did something for ya."

He led you to the side of the church and entered the small cemetery. He stayed silent as he led you down a small stone path, passing older stones and markers. His boots clicked over the stones and stopped. There's an area that looks new and fresh. Flowers covered under a freshly caved small angel stone with the date you came in Ambrose. The angel held their hands as if they were in prayer, their head looking down at the grave. The carving didn't looked rushed but carved with care and timeliness. You looked at Bo then at the stone. You looked at the stone as you let go of his arm. you took steps forward and knelt in front of the stone. You touched it as tears started to build up. The lump in your throat tighten as you looked up at Bo.

"You," your words broke, "made a grave? For them?"

His jaw clinched as he looked down at his feet, closing his eyes. "It didn't feel right not t'do anythin', Mama," he admitted. "I... I'm sorry. Just thought it... it would..." his words fell as his eyes locked with yours. There were tears falling from his baby blues. "I wanna do righ'. I thought 'at, well..." He clinched his jaw and looked away. "I'm sorry, Mama."

You looked away from him to look at the tombstone. "Vincent made this?"

"Lester did, not Vincent," he answered. "He c'n carve stone. Vincent and I picked t'spot an' flowers." He closed his eyes. He needed a cigarette. "Thought it would help."

Your fingers ran over the stone. Careful hands took so much time with this artwork, and it was all for someone you lost. You rubbed your eyes then moved the fresh flowers around the stone to make it look filled and loved. It doesn't bring back what you lost, no, but you felt like you were healing. It'll take forever to heal, but this is a start; a damn good start. "Thank you, Bo," you whispered. "This... this is beautiful. Thank you." You looked up at him and held out a hand.

He took a step and took it, and you brought him down to the grass to sit next to you. You two stayed silent as you looked at the stoned angel and listened to the world around you. The birds chirped their songs as crickets hummed from the marsh. You felt comfortable to rest your head against his shoulder and closed your eyes. You made up your mind, and you were glad that it came to you.

"Bo, may I ask something?"

"Anythin' y/n."

You lifted his head and looked up at him. "Can... can Jasmine and I stay here? In the town? I have nowhere else to go."

His heart leapt to his throat. Someone up there heard his prayer, but reality kicked in. He knew this town. He knew himself and Vincent. "We ain't the nicest men," he warned. "An' it might get dangerous from time to time." Then a warm smiled formed. "But I promise, I swear, you an' ya kin will never be harmed. No hands, smacks--nothin' like 'at as long as ya livin' 'ere." His hand lock into yours and brought it up to a kiss. "I swear it, Mama."

You lifted your arms and pulled him into a hug, and he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight embrace. "Thank you, Bo," you said in his jacket. "Thank you."

He pulled away and looked down at you. "Do ya wanna stay a while? Or head back to t' house? No rush or nothin', hon."

You looked back at the stone and leaned against him. "Can I stay? Just a bit longer?"

He wrapped an arm around you, his eyes looking over the stone, mourning with you silently. He'll never forgive himself as long as he lives, but he'll try to make up for it. He's beaten himself up in the garage whenever he was alone. He'll look for forgiveness between you and the stone forever and ever. For now, he'll keep you and Jasmine safe and happy.

“What’re gonna do?” Lester’s voice drawls over the phone. “They got a kid.”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out, Les,” Bo said as he was walking towards the front door of the shop. “'M not too worry.”

“But ’s a baby—“

“Les,” Bo warned, “I got it.” With that, he hung up and adjusted his hat. He walks towards the door and walked out. He went to the garage door and pulled it up to show off the car he’s been working on.

Ambrose hasn't had a family come through in a while, so it'll be perfect for Vincent to practice to make a happy family. Bo knew he would never have something like that, and it hurts to think of it. He thought he would be a good father, a better father than his own. He thought of building fences around the house, a front swing for him and his sweetheart to watch their kids run around. A dog or two. He craved for that type of life he was promised when he was a kid. If not that, he hoped that he was going to be a good uncle if his brothers married.

He pushed the thoughts away as he popped the hood of the car and started looking at the belt and spark plugs. The car came in after the last group, and he thought he might fix it up good and have Lester sell it in the town over. If not, he'll strip it for parts and sell them.

Bo wondered if his kid would want to learn how to fix cars.

He heard footsteps coming closer to his shop but pays no mind to act like he’s too busy. He was thankful the family came before his thoughts swallowed him whole.

“Excuse me?” A man asked, getting Bo’s attention. “You Bo?”

Bo looked over his shoulder and wiped his hands with the rag in his back pocket. “Yes, sir. That’s me.” He sees the mother and her holding a child’s hand. He could see a bump growing, showing she had another bun in the oven. Lester never said anything about that over the phone, but he won't pay mind to it for a while. He'll worry about that later. “What can I do for ya?”

He didn’t like how there was a fading black eye on you. Once you noticed he was looking, you gave a smile, making him look at your husband. It's better if you hide behind your man, y/n, but your child needs you more.

“The driver said you have a battery?” The man placed his hands on his hips. “Were in a hurry, too, so—“

“Come inside and I’ll show you what I got,” Bo said, cutting him off. “We can talk cars while your woman takes junior to the House of Wax.” He flashed you a smile and a quick wink. “An' the AC can help t' heat. Can’t have Mama passing out to heat, can we?”

The man’s eye twitched as he kept his fake smile. He turns to you and nodded for you to leave. “I’ll be there in a moment. Take Jasmine with you, y/n.”

Y/n... what a beautiful name, Bo thought with a smile.

Bo lifted a brow as he looked at the little girl in a bright green dress, white little sandals, and her hands clutched a stuffed pink bear. Bo smiled at her and gave a little wave. “Jasmine, huh?” He knelt down, ignoring the man for a moment. “Ain’t she pretty?”

Shyly, the little girl waved back before hiding behind her mama. He saw the banged up knee and too big bruised on her arm, fresh and bright. If Bo didn’t have restraint, he would’ve killed your husband then and there, but there was a child. He couldn’t let that side show in front of a child. She must've been an one-year-old but she was so small and tiny.

You clear your throat, holding the bump close. “We’ll be waiting, Toddy.” Then you flash a smile towards Bo. It melted his heart, just for a moment. “Thank you, mister.”

“Just call me Bo, ma’am,” he said, tipping his trucker’s hat. He took you in like a sunset over the gulf. He'll get rid of Todd; don't worry.

“Just call me y/n,” you gave a smile. As soon as the smile came, it faded as Todd glared at you, his back turning away from Bo just he doesn’t see.

“I’ll walk you up there,” Todd said suddenly. “It’s just up the road, right?”

Bo nods. “Yeah, but it’s not far—“

“Like you said, the heat’s not good for her,” he walked to your side, his hand gripping your wrist. “Won’t be long.”

Bo swallowed hard but he forces a nod. He knows you begging him to come with you, your eyes tearing up. He knows your pain, he knows you’re hurting, but he has to play up his act. He has to keep up the dumb hick mechanic. He’s sorry, y/n… he’s so sorry.

“Sounds fine," he gave a fake grin. "I'll meet ya there in a few."

************

"What did I tell you?" Todd hissed as soon as they were far enough from the mechanic. His grip around your arm was too tight, leaving a mark right away.

"I was being friendly, honey," you defended yourself.

Todd rolled his eyes as he pulled you along. "yeah, right. I bet you want to fuck him, too."

"Excuse me?"

"I saw the way you were looking at the driver, too," he spat as he turned to corner that the House of Wax was on. The green building stood tall over the street as its shadow casts over you and your child. "Bet you would spread your legs if they just asked."

You clinched your jaw, trying to pull away from his grip. "Can we not do this now? Jasmine--"

"That little fucker doesn't understand anything," Todd pulled your arm harder and tighter. "I'm giving you this one chance, y/n. One. Last. Chance." His words were filled with venom and blood, his dark brown eyes narrowing at you as he let go. He went up the steps and opened the door to the house. "Act up."

He didn't have the door open long enough for you to walk through. you caught the door just in time before it would close on Jasmine. You didn't have much of a choice when it came to Todd. He was your brother's best friend. He acted so nice around your family, smiling for your mother, laughing with your father, befriending everyone but you. He was nice to you though in the beginning, but he changed after moving you away from your hometown. There were thoughts of packing and leaving in the middle of the night, but he had such a short leash on your that you were scared. No matter where you went, Todd found you. So, you stayed and tried, but how long until you give up on trying, y/n? How much does that cost?

Inside, the AC unit was running at full blast as if Bo knew you were coming here this morning, and your sighed with a small grin. The place is dusty but you can see the art just fine. You used to oil paint back when you were happy and fill with life. You scooped up Jasmine and placed her on your hip. Little grabby hands reached for a waxed butterfly handing from the ceiling, and it caused you to laugh to yourself. The best thing Todd ever gave you was Jasmine, and you'll be damned if he tries to take that from you.

"That's a butterfly, darling," you said in a song voice. "Can you 'butterfly'?"

"She's too dumb to figure that out," Todd murmurs as he looks at a waxed figure. "Jeez, these things are creepy." He looks back at you, forcing you to nod your head in agreement. You didn't want to risk another fight. "I shouldn't be long, y/n. Think you could keep your legs closed long enough?"

"Todd, stop it!" You looked down at Jasmine then found an open couch for her to sit on. "I'm not a whore--"

A loud smack echoed throughout the house. His ringed hand stung as you went to the floor of the waxed house. You held your jaw as tears fell from your eyes. You hated that you cried so easily. When you looked up at Jasmine, you watched as her nose crinkled up and she started crying. Her face turned a bright red as she wiles echoed in the house.

"Oh my god!" Todd shouted at Jasmine, stepping over you. "Shut up-!"

You shot up from the floor and pulled him away from Jasmine, taking his attention. "Don't touch her!" You pushed him away and stood between your child and him. "Don't! She's a baby, Todd! She doesn't know better!" You didn't know there was a dark figure watching from the corner, his heavy blue eye watching your every move. "Don't--!"

You were met with another blow from the man, his fist hitting your eye. You took a few steps back before you could register the hard fist hitting your stomach, right on the little bump. You fell on your knees as you held your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. When you looked up at him, you were met with a kick over your shielded stomach. You felt something inside you crush as you laid on your side crying. You could hear Jasmine screaming at the sight, her mind not registering what's going on.

You closed your eyes and wished for it to stop, for all of it to stop--

The sound of a gun clicking caught your ears and the sound of metal scratching made your head lift. Your eyes met Bo's as his shotgun aimed right at Todd. His harden blue eyes looking at him with fire, an ember that's been burning since he met you. Standing to his left, just far off, a darken figure emerged from the shadows, two knives clinching hard between his hands, his face covered by a waxed mask. You looked between them then at Jasmine, who was still crying on the couch. You tried to stand as you held your stomach, but you fell. You felt a gushing warmth between your legs, the smell of iron and bitter copper filled the air.

"Don't fuckin' touch 'er," Bo spat, his drawl heavy and laced with anger. "Touch 'at baby, I swear to God I'll kill you!"

Todd held up his hands slightly. "Let's talk--"

"Nah, we're done talkin'," Bo's voice harden as he looked at Todd. His eyes lingered over to you and his face fell; he knew he was too late. His gaze snapped back at Todd. "I'll take my time with sweet time with you, boy." He felt his heart beating in anger; he wants blood. He wants death. He wants you to get out of here. "Vincent," he snapped, his gun not moving. "Get Mama and kid outta here." He clinched his jaw as his eyes fell on Jasmine. He felt his world breaking as her little hands reached up for Vincent. "Jasmine doesn't need to see this."

Todd stood still, his hands still up. He stayed silent as he saw the dark haired man pick you up from the floor, helping you to your child.

"It's okay, sweetie," you choked out, your knees wobbling as you picked up Jasmine. "Mama's has you. You're okay... you're okay."

You felt a large hand support you as were led off to another room. It looked like a dinning room, and it looked just as dusty as the rest of the rooms. Your head was spinning as the pain from your stomach burned, blood falling. The crushing weight finally took over as you started to fall to your knees. Vincent's hands caught both you and the baby, and he lowered you to the floor. He pulled you close as your eyes became heavy. You rested Jasmine on your chest and held her. You relaxed to the sound of a gunshot from the other room.

**********

Bo stood over Todd after tying his hands together. He'll put him in the basement under the garage. It's meant for women, the chair, but he'll make an exception for him. The scum of the earth right under his boot wasn't going to crawl away that easy.

He turned his attention to the closed dinning room and hurried towards it. His head was racing for thought's of y/n and the child. He hoped Vincent got them far away--

His stomach dropped when he saw Vincent holding Jasmine, cradling her in his arms, and your head on his knees. When he looked past you, he saw your chest rising and falling out from pain and the bright red staining your pants. He felt sick to his stomach. If only he got here in time to stop it. If he didn't have to play the part of a dumb hick. If he told Vincent just to kill right as you walked through the door...

"Vincent." Bo watched Vincent's shoulder flinching upwards. He looked back to face him, and Bo's face fell. The little girl was sleeping in his arms, her face starting to return from crying. "Give me the babe. Carry y/n to the house. I need... need to call Les." He didn't know why he felt himself shake as he looked over y/n. He didn't know why there was a hole in his chest burning. He hated this. He hated Todd. He hated himself. "They need our help. They need help."

As soon as Vincent passed Jasmine to him to pick you up, Bo's heart broke. He looked between you and the baby as if he was yours, as if the child was his. His eyes fell over Jasmine as he held her close, swaying back and forth with her in his arms. Something clicked like a switch as he looked at Jasmine starting to fuss in his arms before to to sleep again. She was so small in his large arms, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in a blanket and lover her until the air in his chest was gone. He would kill for her. He would die for her. Either way, what bliss will he have.

He held her head close to his chest and shielded her away from Vincent as he lifted you off the ground. He was careful with your legs as he held you close. Vincent's mind circled over and over as he looked down at you. Why did he watch that long? What made him stay back to to watch it? He wanted to find an answer, any answer to satisfy his racing thoughts, but he found thing to calm his nerves. He found nothing special to make his stop to ache in his arms as he followed Bo to the house. The baby was gone, and it's fault. All his fault.