I can't rewind my childhood. I don't even know where Bree is. I can make sure that these girls stay together, though.
Securing the braid with a hair band, Esther drops the tail onto Cierra's shoulder. "Go swing," she says.
Cierra traipses to her little sisters, shoulders drawn.
"In some ways they're so normal," Esther says, sitting next to me. "Then sometimes they're so sullen. I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know how to fix me."
"Some people say therapy is helpful." I shrug, flicking ash into the breeze. It swirls around my bare leg, then drifts to the ground.
"What's going on with you and Cliff?"
My hand freezes midair, smoke curling upward from the cigarette. "What do you mean?"
She clicks her tongue. "Please." Tilting her head, she pins me with a knowing look. "You've got to talk to someone, Liv. You're helping me—let me help you. I'm excellent at relationship advice. Are you thinking of moving in with Cliff?"
I hold back a snort. Barely. Somehow, Esther's been unscathed by the darkness that's encroached her entire life. She's still an optimist, still sunny enough to assume my problems are boy-related. "He asked," I hedge, wondering if I should tell her what's really on Bad Lane.
That's such a shitty thing to bond over. The woman who was raped by her father and the woman who was raped by her ex-boyfriend. We'd be the sickest of besties. Except her unending optimism might push me off a cliff.
"And?" she presses, grinning.
"I said no." I drop the cigarette and die it out in the park mulch.
"¿Por qué?" she exclaims. "I hear the two of you in your bedroom. And the club house." She grins wickedly. "You could have that every single night. And day, if you wanted." She wiggles her eyebrows.
I sigh. "Cliff is . . ." My voice trails off. I don't know how to describe him. He's sweet, with just enough edge and bite to keep me on my toes. He does shit for me, no questions asked. I think of how quickly he rushed to help me with Eli. How he called Donny and Beer Can, and they just took care of it. He held me for hours, never pushing. He didn't even tell me that what I did was stupid.
Even now, when I have nightmares, he just holds me. Cliff popped into my life and then he stayed, even when he could've—and should've—left. All he wants in return is to share a space with me, and I can't even give him that.
I try to put all of that into words for Esther. "He's been giving me a look."
She lifts an eyebrow. "A look?"
"Like a puppy-eyed 'I love you and wanna have your babies' look."
"Qué lindo," she croons. "You two would make some cute babies."
I glare at her. "This is a baby-free zone." I cross my arms over my stomach in an X.
"As soon as I get guardianship of the kids, Donny and I are getting a place together. We figured it'd be better if he doesn't live with me yet. DCF leans more toward female-only homes when it comes to girls who have been sexually assaulted by a man."
"See, that four years of school is already paying off."
"God, I hope so." She nods toward the girls. "Look at them. I can't imagine my life without them. Can you imagine your life without Cliff?" She nudges me gently.
"I can't go there."
"Why not?"
I don't have an answer for her.
18
Cliff
Pressing the doorbell for Olivia's place, I step back. Only the porch light is on. No light shines from inside. I can't imagine she and Esther are already in bed. I raise my fist and knock, a soft three-tap, just in case.
From the other side, I hear a soft meow: Dio.
"Hey buddy." He meows again. I picture him rubbing his cheek against the door. "I guess no one else is home. I'll see you later."
Turning, I chuckle. Olivia's got me talking to her cat now.
She's got me doing all kinds of things—like picking up her father. I wanted to see her before I left, even if only to wish her luck for her first day at DCF. Maybe see if there's anything I should know before meeting Mercy, or if there's anything she wants me to scope out before she meets him.
She isn't home, though, so there's not much I can do, other than go back to the club house and try to get some sleep.
I walk slowly back to the Screamin' Eagle. The last thing I want to do right now is go to bed, mostly because I don't want to get up at the ass crack of dawn to drive all the way to Lewisburg. Traveling by train would take longer, and neither Ravage nor Mark were willing to pony up for a plane ticket. Worst of all, I have to take a cage. It'll be more comfortable than riding all the way down, but the more I ride, the less I want to be in a car.
I swing onto the bike and grab my helmet. Securing it in place, my fingers pause. Olivia might be working tonight. That would explain why she isn't home. There's also a chance she's at Lucy's, but I'd rather not ride all over town trying to track her down. If she's already at the club, I might be able to talk her into staying the night. That way she can crash in my room after work, and I can see her before I go. Maybe even see her naked.
Two birds, one stone.
With that happy thought, I fire up the Screamin' Eagle, wincing a little as I imagine poor Dio hiding from the noise. Ever since Eli, he's been so skittish. If Olivia hadn't already killed him, I'd kill the motherfucker myself. Who the hell tries to kill a tiny, defenseless kitten?
I wish she'd told me what was going on before it got that bad.
That's Olivia for you. She can take care of herself, which is one of the things I love most about her.
I nearly stomp on the back brake.
I love her.
It's a whole-body realization. The road tips upward, the bike falls down into the sky. I float for a moment, fingers and toes tingling. Then I slam back into my seat, the bike firmly on 63. Somehow I still have my balance.
I have to tell her. I've never been good at keeping my feelings to myself. My father's headstone is proof of that. It's either tell her, or walk away, and I already know I can't do that.
I can't tell her, either.
She shut me out when I suggested we move in together. I can only imagine what she'll do if I tell her I love her.
I love her.
The more I repeat it, the more woozy my stomach is, like I've had a few drinks and I'm warmed all the way through. At the same time, it makes me need a drink.
There's a good chance I don't really love her.
I have no idea what it feels like to be in love. I know what it's like to love someone—Lucy. I know what it means to be loved—Lucy again. But the odds that I wholly, truly love the first woman I laid eyes on after getting out—not to mention fucked in the back of a station wagon—are slim to none.
I've been lonely for so long, I'm just imprinting on her.
That's got to be it. Because there's no way someone like me can really love her, not now. I love Lucy because it's all I've ever known. Those feelings were there long before I went away. What I think I feel for Olivia can't be real.
Not after twenty years of crushing in noses with my fists. I don't deserve it.
She doesn't deserve me.
Yet, when I see her Street Glide in the parking lot of The Wet Mermaid, my whole body lights up from the inside out.
Whatever this is, it's here to stay.
Until someone knocks some goddamn sense into me.
Maybe meeting Mercy won't be so bad after all.
I slide in next to her bike, then just sit for a moment, the engine idling. Whatever I think I feel, I need to keep my mouth shut until I can figure it out. I've just got to figure out how to keep it off my face—that must be what freaked out Olivia. We're practically living together. Talking about moving in shouldn't have landed me a snow cone.
My head throbs. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I never dated. I thought moving in together was the logical next step, but maybe that's not how things are done anymore. Like I'd really know, anyway. My parents were a tragedy. They both wound up dead. I doubt things could go any different
ly for me.
I squeeze my eyes shut. My head is a mess. I can't go in there like this. She'll take one look at me and she'll know. I need to see her before I go, though. I need to know that everything I've done for her is worth it. That there's a chance she might feel the same way. Otherwise, I chopped up Eli and went up against my President all for nothing.
With numb fingers, I reach for the cigarettes in the pocket of my cut. I grasp the corners of the box, then drop it.
"Damn it," I mutter. I shut off the bike and climb off, then retrieve the pack. I barely feel the heat of the flame as I light a cigarette.
The door to The Wet Mermaid opens and Olivia skips out. I drop my cigarette.
"Fuck me," I whisper. "Just kill me now." I squat as casually as I can and pluck the damn thing from the dirt.
Trish follows Olivia close behind. Olivia lets go of the door, and Trish nearly walks into it.
"I told you to stop messing with the bottles on the shelf!" Olivia shouts. She sticks a cigarette in her mouth and, cupping the flame with one hand, lights it.
"I just don't understand why they're not in alphabetical order," Trish counters. "How else do you remember what goes where?"
"By memory?" Olivia sighs. "Top shelf stays on the top shelf, Trish. For the thousandth time." Her eyes skip from Trish to where I stand by our bikes. "Hey."
"Hi Cliff," Trish says, pouncing on the change of subject. "You working tonight?"
"The key word there would be working," Olivia says.
"I do work." Trish's hands clench into fists.
Olivia takes a step closer. "Then stop messing with my fucking bottles."
"Hi," I say, closing the distance between the three of us. I lean down and kiss the tip of Olivia's nose. "You ready for tomorrow?"
Trish might not be the most organized bartender, but she knows better than to pick a fight with a Prospect when a patched member is watching. Shaking her head, she slips back inside.
"Define 'ready,'" Olivia says. She takes a long drag of her cigarette. "My navy blue, button down shirt and khaki pants are ironed, if that's what you mean. I can't believe I'm going business casual."
"Moving on up in the world," I say softly.
"Do you think they'll give me a case right off the bat? Or will I have time to dig into the girls' case?"
Before I can answer, the door opens and Trish's head pokes out. "Olivia, bar's full. I need you." She pops back in, avoiding the dirty look my girl throws her.
"I'm going to kill her," Olivia says.
"I hope you mean that figuratively." I flick the remainder of my cigarette into the parking lot.
"You do know how to hide a body now . . ." She disposes of her cigarette in the tall ashtray beside the door.
"Anything for you, darlin'." I pull open the door, holding it for her. "Meet me upstairs after your shift? We can talk more."
"Sure," she says, standing on her tiptoes to give me a quick kiss. Her eyes don't meet mine, though. She falls to the flats of her feet and gives me a half smile. Then she disappears into the crowd inside.
I stand there for a moment, letting Kiiara's "Gold" wash over me. I already know I'll be missing Olivia tonight.
19
Olivia
I sit up in the darkness of my bedroom, gasping for air. No, not darkness—it's pitch black. I widen my eyes, glance toward the window, but there's no light. I'm not even sure there's a window. My lungs tighten as if someone's fist squeezes around them, releases for a second, then squeezes again.
"Calm down," I tell myself. "The street probably lost power."
I grope for my phone. I fell asleep reading my favorite novel, Lex Talionis by S.A. Huchton, so it's got to be here somewhere. My fingers brush sheets, sheets, more sheets. If I dropped the thing on the floor, I'll never find it. I keep patting the bed, pleading with my mattress to give it up.
My hand lands on a furry, wet mess, still warm.
I scream, mouth wide open, tears running down my face. The light turns on, bathing me in harsh bright white. I glance down at my sheets, my hand, but there's nothing there.
"Hello, Olivia," Eli says, and I scream again.
I sit up so hard and fast, the room sways around me. At least I can see. My T-shirt sticks to me, cold and clammy against my skin. I take a big gulp of air, the squeezing sensation still in my chest but fading. This time, when I reach for my phone, I find it right beside me.
Four a.m.
I have to be up in two hours if I want to eat, shower, and tame my hair. Drawing my knees into my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs, resting my face on my knees. I breathe in slowly, let it out just as slow.
"You're okay," I tell myself over and over.
I should have stayed at Cliff's.
I figured I'd get a better night of sleep in my own bed. Guess the joke's on me. I'd probably be sleeping like a baby in his arms right now, if I'd stayed.
If I hadn't stood him up.
My phone buzzes in my hand with an alert. Glancing down at the screen, I almost scream again.
There's a Silver Alert for a twenty-five-year-old Elijah Moretti from Naugatuck, Connecticut. I guess someone is missing him, after all.
Each breath exits my lungs in a ragged whoosh. I try to keep it slow and steady, but the vice is back.
Someone is looking for Eli.
He has family, people who have no idea what happened to him. As much of a monster as he was, I know exactly how his family feels. Every time Bree left me, I worried it'd be the last time I saw her, that someone would find her dead somewhere.
I really should've gone to Cliff's.
I can still go now. I can hop on that Street Glide and slip into bed beside him. Even in sleep, he'll wrap his arms around me and make me feel safe, if only for a moment.
Someone is looking for Eli.
If they find him, I could go to prison. If they don't find him, they'll always wonder what happened to him.
Shivering, I reach for the quilt I keep folded at the foot of the bed. I cocoon myself in it and sit up against the wall that my bed hugs, staring into the dim darkness of the room, tinged with orange from the streetlights.
"Olivia?" Esther calls with a knock. "You okay?"
"Come in," I reply.
The door opens and Esther tiptoes inside, glancing between her feet for Dio. He darts out from a hidden corner of the room, running between her feet and nearly tripping her.
"You should've named him Diablo," she mutters, climbing into bed with me.
Dio ricochets and hops up, too, prancing across the sheets and plopping down in my lap. His purr reverberates through my body. Absently, I rub the top of his head with the side of my thumb.
"Another nightmare?" Esther asks, snuggling up.
I want to tell her everything. How Eli stalked me, that he was the one who hurt our cat. How I asked Donny for a gun, just in case, because even then I didn't feel safe. The night that Eli came after me, and I killed him.
Instead I just nod, then rest my head on her shoulder.
"It'll be okay, cariña." Esther strokes my hair, oh so gently. The last thing I think before I drift off is how good she'll be for those girls.
* * *
The chorus of "Bitch" blares through my bedroom, jolting me awake. I rub my sore eyes, the nausea from lack of sleep already setting in. Showing up exhausted on my first day is not how to make a good impression.
"Morning," Esther says, slipping into my room with two mugs of coffee. She passes one to me and I smile gratefully.
"I don't deserve you."
"Don't forget that." She perches on the edge of my bed. "Are you ready for today?"
"Ugh." I take a long sip of coffee, wishing I could just attach an IV and be done with it. I set the mug on my nightstand and grab my phone. The Silver Alert is still out. I sigh. Silver Alerts are supposed to be for the elderly, but for some reason the state of Connecticut randomly uses them for younger people all the time.
A lot of people who go missing
are never reported. Maybe it's because no one cares enough, or maybe it's simply that the explanation isn't one they can give to the authorities.
If this were any other morning, I'd open Facebook and see what I can find out about Eli's family. If I don't get moving, I'm going to be late, so I put my phone aside and scoot out of bed.
"You know," Esther says while I grab my outfit, "you don't have to fix this thing with my sisters. You've got a lot on your plate already, and I don't want to pile more on you."
I turn, holding up a hand. "This is exactly why I became a social worker, Essie: to help people like you and me. Let me help."
She beams. "You called me Essie."
I smile back. "I've gotta get in the shower."
"And I'm going back to bed." Squeezing past me, she pads across the living room to her own bedroom. "Have a great day, dear."
"Have fun being unemployed and sleeping in, dear!"
"I have a job!" she fires back before shutting her door.
As much as I'd love to tease her more, I really do have to get ready. I trudge into the bathroom, hoping that the rest of the day will be easier than last night.
20
Cliff
The sun bleeds over the horizon just as I cross into New York. I grab my sunglasses from the dashboard and don them against the light. I've been on the road for almost an hour; the drive there should take just under four. I thought I'd hate being trapped in a cage for so long, but I don't mind it. I drive with a wrist draped over the wheel, just me and the road.
Until I hit morning rush hour traffic.
Against my better judgement, I took I-84 W. Even with all the road work and traffic, it's still the fastest route. It's also the most frustrating. So far, though, I'm enjoying the peace of the road.
It was a long night.
I tossed and turned, so first thing, I grabbed a big ass coffee with three espresso shots. I wish Olivia didn't have this effect on me, that I could sleep like a baby without worrying that I'm driving all the way to Pennsylvania for nothing. Yeah, it's for my club, but I offered to do it for her—and she still stood me up.
A Risky Prospect (River Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 2) Page 8
