by Sarah Osborn
Lottie gasped as he opened it. “That's one of Mom's.”
“Your mom painted this? Wow. It's not what I'd expect her to do.”
“She wasn't in a good place back then.” Although she knew what had happened to her mom, Lottie wasn't prepared to share. It wasn't her story to tell. “Your dad was a really good friend to her, and it was him who encouraged her to start painting again.”
“Do you know why my mom fell out with your folks?” Luke began looking through a bunch of photographs that had been bundled together with an elastic band. “There are loads of the four of them here, and they look really happy.”
“I think you should ask her.” She picked up a poker and prodded the fire.
“But you know?”
Lottie picked up a photograph of Tiny and her dad. There was a definite resemblance between father and son. Luke had inherited his dad's cheek bones and jawline, but his features were softer and he was more handsome. A lot more. “Yeah, I know.” Her folks had always been as open and honest with her as they were with each other. Her mom was deeply hurt by Beth's accusations, and her dad was pissed as all hell. Even after all these years. “I'm sorry, Luke. You have to talk to your mom about this.”
He snorted and continued his search through the box. “If I as much as mention your mom, she loses her shit.”
Biting down on the urge to defend her mom, Lottie uncrossed her legs and stood up, noting how he swallowed and looked away. “It's getting late. I'm going to put the girls to bed, then we'd better head back into town.”
“Lottie.” Luke stood and gently took her arm. “Have I offended you?”
She shook her head. “No, but my folks loved – still love – your mom, and it hurts them that she cut them out of her life.” Her hand reached out of its own accord and touched his chest. “None of this is your fault.”
He smiled, and Lottie melted a little. “I'm glad. Despite whatever it is going on between our folks, I think I'd like us to be friends.”
“I think I'd like that too.”
EIGHTY-THREE
Luke's head was spinning. He'd always believed that the club had turned its back on his family. He had few memories of the events following his dad's death. He'd been just a kid who'd missed his dad, and had quickly learned that talking about him or the club upset his mom, so he'd buried his grief and buttoned his lip.
He remembered Spike coming around, even after they moved to the beach house, but after his mom met his dad, they'd had a big fight – shit, he couldn't forget that – and he'd never seen him again. After that, the club was never mentioned again.
Those photographs showed something different, and sitting in this cozy house stirred memories of love and laughter. He wasn't stupid, he knew what the Freaks were, but Abi had always insisted that, at their core, they were a family. Maybe her memory wasn't playing tricks on her, and she'd been right all along.
Lottie pulled on a pair of boots and grinned. “Come and meet the rest of the menagerie.”
Instead of heading straight for the animal pens, she headed for the big wooden garage a short distance from the house and unlocked the double doors. “Wanna see your dad's bike?”
More memories flooded over him as he stepped inside. How long had it been since he'd smelled that heady combination of engine oil and grease? Lottie flicked a switch, and a gray parrot in a huge cage in the corner squawked and flapped its wings. She grinned. “Don't touch him. He's psycho – only dad goes near him.”
Luke looked around. “I remember this place. I loved coming in here when I was a kid. Dad would never let me hang out with him when he was working on his bikes, but Samson never seemed to mind. I thought this was the coolest place.”
She smiled. “I hung out in here a lot, too. We built my first bike when I was thirteen.” Her laugh was deep and throaty. And hot as all hell. “He was a tough taskmaster, but I learned a lot.”
“You ride?”
She nodded and pointed to a lime green Ninja. “That's mine. Dad wasn't impressed when I bought her, but she's the sweetest ride and goes like a rocket.”
“Which one is Dad's?”
Lottie pulled a plastic sheet from a bike near the far wall. Luke didn't know shit about bikes, but the big Harley looked as though it had just come from a showroom. She ran her fingers along the tank. “It's kinda sad that it doesn't really get ridden. It's a beautiful bike.”
Luke swallowed the lump that was stuck in his throat. “Can I sit on it?”
“Of course. It's yours.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah. Dad bought it for you. You're Tiny's kid, you should have at least one of his bikes.” She smiled. “I guess you'll have to share it with your sisters, but I'm pretty sure it was you he had in mind when he bought it.”
“Wow. I had no idea. Why didn't he say anything?”
“He did. Your mom knew, but she made it clear that he wasn't to contact you. You have to understand, Luke. Our fathers have done some really bad shit. Your mom could make things really difficult if she wanted to.” Lottie held up her hands as he opened his mouth. “I'm not saying she would, and Dad didn't really believe that, either. I think he figured you'd show up, sooner or later.”
Sometimes Luke would feel something dark stirring deep inside him. Most of the time he was unaware of it lying under that laid-back surface, but every so often it made its presence known. He ground his teeth together and pushed it back down. “She should've told me.”
Lottie shrugged. “Your mom wanted to keep you as far away from the club as possible. That's not such a bad thing.”
“You're okay.”
“Yeah, I am. But it isn't easy sometimes. Trust me, the whole class knowing your dad's in the joint, or having the cops kick down your door in the early hours, isn't a lot of fun. I don't think Mom would've been sorry if Dad had decided to step back from the life.”
Luke had always felt as though he never really belonged. He didn't think he was dumb, but all through school, he'd struggled. His mom had pushed him towards sports, but despite being pretty athletic, he could never really motivate himself to take it to the next level. In the classroom, he learned to sit quietly at the back and shut out the bullshit that was going on around him. He'd stayed out of trouble and avoided confrontation. Not because he was afraid of getting hurt.
Luke was afraid of what he became when the red mist descended.
Whatever it was that lurked inside him scared Luke, and sometimes he didn't trust himself around people. Since quitting school, he'd drifted from town to town and dead-end job to dead-end job, and avoided getting close to anyone. He felt comfortable with Lottie, though. And he felt comfortable here.
EIGHTY-FOUR
Deke had known that Emma would want to visit Tiny's grave before they left, especially after Abi had told them that, of her family, only she had spent time with her dad. He didn't join her at the graveside; whatever it was she wanted to say was between her and his brother. As it had always been.
He'd only been sheltering from the fine, misty rain on the chapel porch for a few minutes when she joined him. “You done?”
“Yeah.” She slid her hand into his. “I just wanted to say hi.”
He grinned and squeezed her hand. His little witch never went to church, or spoke of the hereafter, but she believed that as long as you held a person in your heart, they never died. And her heart was big enough to keep the whole goddamned world alive. “That door's unlocked.”
“Deke Samson! Are you suggesting we fuck in a chapel?” Her grin was as wide as his.
“I'm prepared to risk eternal damnation, if you are.”
Emma laughed and pushed open the door. “Actually, I was thinking about how your back was going to hold up on those wooden pews.”
She probably had a point, but, fuck it. He might not be a young man anymore, but it would be a cold day in hell when he couldn't fuck his woman. He swung her around and pushed her back against the wall. And right now, he was prepared to risk eternal dam
nation and a backache.
“Hey!” Deke spun around as the minister hurried towards them. “You can't do that here!”
Emma giggled and he grinned. “Sorry, boss. Just had a strong urge to show my wife how much I love her.”
“Well, show her somewhere else. This is not the place.”
Emma laughed as she took his hand and dragged him back to his bike. “One of these days, you're gonna get us arrested, and Lottie will never forgive us.”
“Sure she would. Eventually.” He kissed her. “C'mon. Lets go home.”
~ oOo ~
Lottie had noticed that, recently, her dad's limp, after even quite short rides, had gotten worse. Her mom had noticed too, but mostly she pretended that she hadn't. Lottie understood that – she may have only been a fair weather rider, but nothing made her feel more alive, and to suggest to her dad that maybe he should quit was like asking him to stop breathing. On the rare occasions the subject had been broached, the resulting fights had been impressive.
Lottie smiled as they walked across the yard to the house. Their fights had scared her when she was a kid. Her mom was so small and her dad so big and scary. But she'd learned that no matter how hard her mom pushed, he'd never raise a hand to her, and no matter how massive the fights, they never stopped loving each other.
She became aware of Luke standing next to her in the workshop doorway, and shook her head as her dad grabbed her mom and kissed her. “Someone should tell them they're not teenagers anymore.”
Luke didn't answer. He just watched them intently, and the resemblance between father and son became more marked. “Do you think he'd tell me about Dad?”
“Some, maybe.” She waved as they noticed them standing there. “But don't push him about the club.” She'd known her dad would head over as soon as she saw them, just as she knew that, for whatever reason, wild horses couldn't get her mom to step through those doors. “I'm going to put the animals away before it gets dark. Let me know when you need a ride back to Seattle.”
EIGHTY-FIVE
Luke didn't do small talk, and neither, it seemed, did Samson. The big biker crossed the garage and patted the tank of his dad's bike. “Beth's pissed.”
“Yeah, I figured she would be.”
Samson sighed and turned to face him. “She's got her reasons, son.”
“Are they justified?”
“Some.” The parrot squawked, and Samson took a nut from a jar on a nearby workbench and dropped it though the bars, then sat on a stool with a wince.
On the wall over the bench was a large black and white print. Luke hadn't really paid it any attention before, but as he stepped closer he realized it was a photograph of Samson and Emma. Samson followed his gaze and grinned. “My kid's pretty talented, huh?”
“Yeah. It's very...” He searched for the word as he studied the harshly lit image of them, both naked from the waist up, with every imperfection, every scar, on display. “Very raw. Lottie took this?”
“Yep.” He chuckled. “Emma hates it.”
Luke could understand why. Both were unsmiling, standing side by side, and lit in such a way that every dip and hollow was deeply shadowed. It was cold, harsh and unflattering, yet as his eyes traveled across the image, they fell on their hands clasping tightly to each other and he saw, for the first time, their vulnerability. “She shouldn't.”
“No, she shouldn't.” Samson smiled and pulled a joint from the pocket of his leather jacket. “She looks fucking beautiful.” He chuckled again. “Lottie wanted us naked, but there wasn't a chance in hell I was getting my junk out in front of my kid.”
“For what it's worth, I think you made the right call.” He frowned. “Why does my mom hate her?”
“Ask her.”
Luke forced himself to meet Samson's eyes. “I'm asking you.”
Something flashed across Samson's face and he laughed. “Fuck, you look like your old man. Beth thinks Emma and Tiny had an affair.”
“Did they?”
“No.” He pushed himself to his feet. “An' Beth should've known that. That woman...” Samson pointed to the print. “My woman has stood by me through more shit than you can imagine, and has never once given me reason to doubt her. And Tiny didn't have a disloyal bone in his body. He loved your mom, Luke. And he loved you. I dunno why Beth got fixed on this, or why she's so twisted up about everything, but whatever her reasons, she's dead wrong.”
“Abi said Mom blames the club for what happened to Dad. Is she right?”
Samson's expression darkened. “Can't talk about the club, son.”
“Did the club turn its back on us after he died?”
“No. You're family.”
Fuck. Luke ran his fingers through his hair. “Why did Mom lie?”
Samson shrugged and began to cover his dad's bike. “I guess she did what she thought was best, an' she was hurting real bad. You had a good life, an' your stepdad is a decent man. You need to go easy on her.”
“Why do you care?”
“Told you, she's family.”
EIGHTY-SIX
Apart from Luke's expected man reaction to her car, they hadn't spoken during their drive back to Seattle. However, the silence was far from uncomfortable, and Lottie liked the fact that he didn't feel the need to fill it with meaningless small talk.
She liked a lot about him, actually. And that worried her.
Lottie wasn't afraid of falling in love—she'd grown up with parents who were besotted with one another—but she wasn't ready for it. When she'd lived and become the person she was destined to be, maybe she would. But not now. Not while she was still too chicken shit to break away from her parents, and not when she had no idea what it was she wanted to do with her life.
She risked a glance at Luke. He really was beautiful, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't interested in finding out what his body looked like under that suit. But it wasn't his pretty face that worried her—the world was full of pretty faces. None of them belonged to Tiny Taylor's kid, though.
She didn't remember Tiny, but she knew he'd been a massive part of her folks' lives, and that they both had loved him very much. She also knew that among the Freaks, he was legendary. The brother who would never shy away from what needed to be done, and whose loyalty was absolute.
He became aware of her scrutiny and his lip twitched, but he said nothing. Lottie turned her attention back to the road; if she dinged the car again, her Dad would lose his shit. With anyone else, she'd have been embarrassed to have been caught caught checking them out, but with Luke, it didn't seem to matter. Vaguely, she wondered if maybe it wouldn't matter if she reached out and touched him. She grinned inwardly and gave herself a mental slap. Of course it would matter. It would matter a lot.
As they came to a halt outside the hotel, Lottie yawned, and he frowned. “You must be tired. Will you be okay driving home?”
“I have an apartment here in the city. It's only a few minutes away.” She smiled. “I still keep most of my stuff at my folks' place cuz it's tiny, and I'm kinda scared if I move my stuff out, they'll forget I exist.”
Luke laughed. “Don't think anyone could forget you.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for today. It's been enlightening.”
“Do you think you'll come back?”
He shrugged. “I dunno.” His eyes were so dark, it was almost impossible to see his pupils. “Maybe.”
~ oOo~
Luke had hoped that he could sneak back to his room without being seen. His head was still spinning, and he needed some time to process what he was feeling.
“Mom's pissed.”
Shit! He'd almost made it to the door before being ambushed by Imi. “Figured she might be.” He opened the door. “Did you want something? Or were you lurking here, in the hope that you can stir shit like you usually do.”
His sister raised her chin. “I'm not the one sneaking out of Abi's wedding to fuck Samson's kid.”
Luke shook his head. He wasn't going to dignify that
accusation with a response. “I'm going to bed.”
Slamming the door behind him, he kicked off his shoes and sat heavily on the bed. Samson had been right; he'd had a good life after his dad had died—unremarkable and kinda boring, but pretty good. The biggest dramas had been his mom bitching at him over homework, and the man whom he'd called Dad since he was seven had been a great father to him and his sisters. He'd never know what his life would've been like, had his dad lived, and if he was honest with himself, he'd never really thought about it. His memories of life with his dad were hazy, and Tiny himself was just a mixture of fleeting memories that disappeared in a puff of smoke when he tried to pin them down, like the recollections of a dream on waking. But he remembered laughter, the roar of motorcycles and the smell of leather.
Maybe it was wrong of him to be angry with his mom. On the few occasions she'd spoken of his dad, she'd always told him and his sisters how much he'd loved them, but she'd never mentioned the club. Luke lay back and closed his eyes. If it hadn't been for Abi, he'd probably never have even known that his dad had been a Freak, and he doubted his life would've been any richer had they been a part of it, but—the beast inside him stirred—this had never been about the club. This had been about his mom's fixation with his dad and Emma.
EIGHTY-SEVEN
“So, how was the wedding?” Felix stood back and examined the display of art glass critically. “Do you think this looks too cluttered?”
Lottie unwrapped another piece of glass and handed it to him. “It looks fine, and I'm not rearranging everything again.” She'd been working in Felix's little shop for six months now, selling 'beautiful things to beautiful people' and, while Felix was a good boss, and the work was hardly onerous, it wasn't what she wanted to do with her life. “You might want to stop buying stuff. If we get any more stock, the customers won't be able to get through the door.”
