In order to keep her out of family court, she’d agreed to undergo a battery of psychological tests and counseling sessions with a private therapist. But the school district had also attached their own stringent rehabilitation demands, including weekly sessions with a school guidance counselor. And quarterly meetings with Lang.
Maya yanked the door open. “Lang?” She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, tapping her heel impatiently. “Please don’t make me stand here forever.”
Kids were milling in and out of the brick building.
No one had prepared him for parenthood. And just like Maya’s, his life had changed overnight too. No more bunking at the clubhouse every night. He had moved into his parents’ house and never looked back. He threw his sister a smile and strutted inside.
“Remember,” he said, handing her the backpack, “don’t run your mouth. Just listen.”
“Like I have a choice.” She rolled her eyes.
The main office was down the hallway. He took the lead this time, frowning at the mint-colored paint on the walls and the shiny, overbuffed floors. Posters about teamwork, zero tolerance for bullying, and healthy dietary choices were hanging on the walls. The place reminded him of the inside of a prison or hospital. No wonder kids itched to get the fuck out. He walked inside the administrative office and pointed to an empty chair along the wall.
“Sit. I’ll be back in a minute.” He knew the routine: check in with one of the assistant principals, shake hands, bring Maya in and have her promise to follow all the rules. Then her class schedule would be approved and he could escort her to the counselor’s office.
Dr. Henley, the same assistant principal Lang had dealt with when he attended school, was seated at his desk in his office. Lang knocked twice and he looked up from his paperwork.
“Lang Anderson,” he said enthusiastically. “Good to see you again, come in.”
They shook hands.
“My condolences for your loss—sorry I didn’t attend the funeral, I was out of the country.”
“Thanks.” Lang respected the guy, a straight shooter. “Never thought I’d come back here.”
“Under the circumstances, I wish you didn’t have to. Rest assured I’ll do everything I can to help your sister transition into school culture. I’ve reviewed her files extensively. She’s a bright girl, just needs a little push in the right direction.”
Lang nodded. “She’s a handful when she gets upset. There’s triggers everywhere, just not sure what they all are.”
Henley looked genuinely sympathetic. “Teenagers respond differently to tragedies. I want you to know we’ve hired a couple of very talented guidance counselors over the summer. One worked in a tough neighborhood in Philadelphia. She’s no-nonsense, and I think she’ll be a great match for Maya. Give it time.”
Lang wished he could turn back the hands of time. He’d give up his life to reunite his sisters with their parents. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper: Maya’s class schedule. “Just need your signature on this.” He offered the paper, and Dr. Henley looked it over.
“Biology, Calculus, English Lit, Art, and Cheerleading?”
Lang shrugged. “She begged for that one.”
“No, no,” Henley said, “I think it’s a great idea. Having a physical outlet can be very therapeutic. And I think cheerleading is better than a true contact sport, less focus on individual skills and more about teamwork.” He pressed a button on his phone. “Ms. Gomez, please send Maya Anderson to my office.”
“Yes, sir,” the voice over the speaker responded.
Thirty seconds later, Maya appeared in the doorway. “Lang?”
“Meet Dr. Henley,” Lang said. “He’ll be your point of contact in the office if you ever need someone to talk to.”
She flicked her gaze in his direction. “Hello.”
“I’ve known your brother for many years,” he said. “I hear I have three more Andersons to get through high school.”
She nodded, visibly disinterested in the conversation.
“Thank you for your time,” Lang said. “Can you direct us to the counselor’s office?”
“Sure thing.” He rounded his desk and escorted Lang and Maya to the hallway outside the office. “Take a left at the next corner, third door on the right.”
Lang and the assistant principal shook hands again. “See you in a couple months, Dr. Henley. Ready, Maya?”
“Please don’t make me do this,” Maya begged once they were out of earshot of the office.
“Do what?” Lang stopped. “Go to school?”
“That and the whole shrink thing.”
“Maya…” He didn’t want to be the bad guy. “I think it’s time you accepted responsibility for the poor choices you’ve made.”
“Me?” She shook her head and frowned. “That’s hypocritical. You wear patches.”
“Don’t,” he said, lowering his voice. “Never talk about the club.”
“I didn’t,” she shot back. “I said ‘patches.’ ”
“Same thing.” He gritted his teeth. Be patient and kill her with kindness—words the professionals advised parents to live by—ones he found difficult to follow when she acted like this. “We have enough fallout to deal with, Maya. And you’re going to get through this—one day at a time.”
“Twelve-step program?” she asked sarcastically.
Why did a fourteen-year-old girl know anything about rehab programs? “If that’s what you want to call it, I don’t have any objections. But starting today, you need to seriously consider your future. Make good grades, stay out of trouble, and before you know it, we’ll be visiting college campuses.”
She laughed. “College? Not my thing. I’d rather hang at the clubhouse.”
Lang swallowed, then took a deep breath in an attempt to control himself. Her last trip to the clubhouse had ended badly—she almost got herself raped. “Do you have cigarettes inside your backpack?”
She shook her head and hugged the bag to her chest.
Lang could see right through her. “Open the bag.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Do it.”
When she didn’t, he grabbed it from her. He unsnapped it and dug around, finding a pack of menthols and a lighter. He grimaced, then clutched her arm and dragged her away from the middle of the hallway. “Damn it, Maya. You could get expelled for this.”
“So?”
He scrubbed his chin, frustrated beyond words. “Remember that school in Colorado?”
Her eyes opened wide. The only thing his sister seemed to take seriously was the threat of “boot camp,” a PC term for a behavioral modification program in the wilderness managed by ex-Marines.
“Keep this up, and I promise we’ll get on the next plane to Denver. Understand?”
She nodded as he stashed the smokes and lighter in his shirt pocket.
“Let’s go.”
The door to the counselor’s office was closed, but Lang could see a hint of light underneath. He knocked, hoping Maya would cooperate. A quick introduction and then he could leave her in the capable hands of the Corpus Christi School District. God knew he wasn’t getting through to her. And like he had with a couple of his Brothers who’d crashed and burned over the years, Lang really felt helpless at the moment—afraid for Maya’s future and very concerned that her retreat into isolation would affect the younger girls.
The door opened and Lang nearly lost it. Standing in the doorway, wearing heels and a black-and-white-striped dress that couldn’t hide her smoking-hot body, was Lily Gallo. And that fucking perfume she wore the night they met—the scent went straight to his dick again. His gaze lingered on her face, then dropped slowly to her hips and legs. He’d tried to forget her. The kiss haunted his dreams at night—fucking wet dreams that ended with him waking up and jacking off in a cold shower.
It had been a disaster when he tried to have sex with Sandy Fuentes a week ago. She’d left in a rage and sworn she�
��d never come back. Not that Lang minded, but they’d used each other on a regular basis and he needed to either replace her with someone else or focus on Lily—which at the moment seemed like the only plausible solution.
“Lang?” she asked, equally surprised, and purposely ignoring his wandering eyes.
How should he respond? Detached and formal? Fuck that. Maybe a kiss would get her full attention. “Nice to see you again, Lily.”
She frowned, her gaze fixed on his face. “Forgive me, Mr. Anderson.” Then she peered behind him. “Who is this?”
Mr. Anderson? He fisted his hands at his side, staring at her very fuckable lips—shimmering with pink gloss. Five minutes with her alone and she’d return to using his first name—in fact, she’d scream it.
“My sister Maya. She’s scheduled for a session this morning.”
“Of course. Hello, Maya, I’m Lily.” She stepped around Lang and offered her hand.
Maya responded favorably. “Nice to meet you.”
He felt relieved all of a sudden. For some reason he trusted Lily with his sister. Maybe it was the way Maya had perked up. She didn’t give a damn if she was addressing the president of the United States or a cashier at a convenience store, if she didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t.
“Can you hang out here while I talk with Lily?” Lang asked.
“Sure,” Maya said, sitting on the floor with her back propped against the wall.
Lang stared at Lily. “We should talk,” he whispered.
“Oh?”
He wouldn’t take no for an answer and walked her backward into her office and shut the door.
The friendliness they’d shared before had disappeared, replaced by something more elemental. There was no way she could resist the fucking magnetic force that made him want to rip the front of her dress open. He stepped close to her.
They both spoke at the same time.
“I can’t believe…”
“I didn’t know…”
“Go ahead,” he offered.
“No, please, she’s your sister.”
Call him selfish, but nothing mattered more than him and Lily right now. He’d hoped for a second chance meeting, the opportunity to explain why he’d been so hard on her. Because their lives were too different. She was everything a woman should be, all the contradictions that drove him crazy. Not a piranha like Sandy and the other women he banged.
“She’s lovely,” Lily said.
“Yes,” he agreed, looking around her work space. Everything appeared perfectly organized, from her bookshelves to the framed sports posters on the walls. “But she’s hurting in ways I can’t explain. Our parents died in a motorcycle accident almost a year ago. She’s never recovered.”
Her features softened immediately. “And you’re raising her?”
“And our two younger sisters.”
“Dear God,” Lily whispered, sitting on the edge of the leather loveseat in the corner. “Three girls?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t imagine…”
“Neither can I,” he admitted. “I wake up every other day wondering what in the hell I’m going to do. If they were boys…”
She nodded. “I’ll do everything I can to help her. I promise.”
“I believe you, Lily.”
Lang grabbed a pen from the holder on her desk and jotted his phone numbers on the tablet nearby. “My cell and home numbers. If you need to contact me about anything concerning Maya, or just want to talk, feel free to call.”
“Thank you.”
“Can you take it from here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He started for the door, but turned back after realizing they had a few more things to discuss outside her office. “Dinner?”
She didn’t answer at first. “I often meet with parents after school hours. Let me check my schedule, then I’ll give you a call to confirm a date and time.”
“Thank you, Lily,” he said, fighting the urge to touch her. He opened the door. “We’re not done yet.”
Chapter 8
Lily watched Lang retreat down the hallway. Dressed in black pants and a forest-green button-down shirt, he reminded her of any other parent on his way to the office. Only most dads didn’t have an ass that made her drool. Shaking her head, she gazed down at Maya, who seemed quite content to stay seated on the floor, listening to music on her iPod with her eyes closed.
Lily believed coincidence was something you read about in fiction; it didn’t happen in real life. A master plan existed in the universe for everyone. After spending the last three weeks trying to clear her mind and learning to accept limitations when it came to her parents’ broken marriage, seeing Lang turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Hearing the gut-wrenching story about the death of his parents¸ and learning he had three girls to raise on his own—well, her heart practically leaped out of her chest.
She’d misjudged him.
In more than one way, unfortunately. As a trained professional, she should have known better. Looks could be deceiving. Membership in an MC didn’t preclude him from deserving her respect or friendship. How could she make amends for her mistake? By giving her full attention to his sister.
“Maya?”
No answer.
Lily tapped her on the shoulder, and the girl yanked her earbuds out. “Did I miss something?”
“Shall we spend some time getting to know each other?” Lily asked, hoping the girl would give her a chance.
“Sure.” Maya grabbed her backpack and climbed to her feet.
Lily offered her the guest chair in front of her desk, then closed her door. Two things stood out about Maya: her quiet demeanor and her exceptionally pretty face. But Lily recognized the sadness in her eyes, a look often associated with kids who’d suffered traumatic abuse or loss.
Lily relaxed on her chair. “Are you and your brother close?”
“I guess,” she said. “He’s my big brother.”
“Does he spoil you?”
Maya smiled. “Sometimes, if I do all my chores, get good grades, and don’t give him a hard time about being gone too much.”
Lily preferred to keep things on the lighter side during a first meeting. Some of her best observations were made during casual conversations. She paid close attention to eye contact and body language. Both of which were normal in Maya’s case so far. “Who takes care of you when Lang is gone?”
“Rosa.”
“Can you tell me more about her?”
“My mother hired her five years ago after she went back to work. She lives with us, cooks and cleans, drives us to school. You know, all the domestic stuff.”
“How do you feel about Rosa?”
Maya’s gaze zigzagged around the office, then focused back on her. “She’s great, love her like an auntie.”
“What about your younger sisters?”
“Leigh is twelve and Trisha is six. She’s a pain in the ass, but when she smiles, you tend to forget about it. Leigh is the smart one. We get along.”
“I’m an only child and would love to have siblings to talk to. You’re very lucky. So where do you go on the weekends?”
“The beach or sometimes we take trips to San Antonio and Austin. We visited the capital a few weeks ago with Rosa. Every Sunday we go out to dinner with Lang. That’s family day—no club business.”
Lily scribbled a couple of notes, then looked at Maya again. “I’m glad you have someone like Rosa to talk to.”
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Lang is pretty easy, though. He’s always asking if there’s anything we need.”
“And what are your plans for the future, Maya?”
“Like college?”
“Anything.”
She shifted in her chair, appearing to weigh her answer. “I really didn’t think about it much until after my parents died. Kind of made me wake up. I guess I’d like to be an old lady, like my mother.”
Lily sucked in a breath. She’d never heard anything quite li
ke it before. Situational, she reminded herself. She’d been preoccupied with thoughts about Lang since they’d parted ways at Tito’s, and although their lives were worlds apart, deep inside she knew he wouldn’t approve of his sister’s aspirations. “Do you have a hobby?”
“I sketch.” Maya leaned down, retrieving a spiral notebook from her bag. She offered it to Lily. “Page six is a recent drawing of Trisha.”
Lily smiled, recalling how she used to doodle when she was a teenager. But Maya’s talent impressed her. “This is wonderful.” She admired several more sketches, including one of Lang. “I want you to consider pursuing this more.”
“Really?”
“I know we just met, Maya, but there are two things you can always rely on from me. The truth, and I’ll always have your best interests at heart. My office is neutral territory. Anything you say to me is kept confidential. Okay?” Lily handed back the notebook.
The first warning bell of the morning sounded. “I have ten minutes to get to class, Ms. Gallo.”
Lily opened her schedule log. “How about meeting me here on Friday morning—same time as today?”
Maya stood. “Eight o’clock,” she said. “Should I bring my sketch pad again?”
“Of course,” Lily said with enthusiasm, pleased she’d established a positive connection with her.
Later that afternoon Lily took a break from working on students’ schedules to probe deeper into Maya’s past, reading her novel-thick student file. Most of the psych evaluations and reports had been added over the last year, coinciding with the loss of her parents. Medical tests revealed a physically fit body, average height and weight for her age, heart rate and blood pressure on target. Even her key hormone levels were normal. A disappointment of sorts, because Lily believed she might suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. Hormones were often involved in stress responses, but not in all cases.
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