by Jc Emery
“You telling me how to care for my own kid?” Questioning his decisions is one of the things he hates most. It doesn’t even matter that it’s Holly. I can tell it’s pissing him off, but I give him credit where credit is due, because he keeps his mouth shut when I know he wants to tell her off.
“Yeah, I am,” she says.
“You gonna make a habit out of it?”
“When I need to.”
Dad nods his head and rubs the back of his neck. As much as I wish she had stuck up for me during our fight the other night, I’m grateful she’s doing it now. I’m lucky to have her. In fact, Dad’s lucky to have her, too.
After an appropriate amount of time of listening in, I decide to make my presence known. Walking into the room, I clear my throat and avert my eyes. Showing up here doesn’t mean I’m caving. I meant what I said the other night, but unfortunately, I think Dad did, too.
From the other end of the hall, Jeremy strides toward me but stalls when he turns to see who’s in the game room. He wasn’t there to hear what Dad said, but I certainly wasn’t shy in relaying my frustration.
“Talk,” Holly says quietly as she elbows Dad in the side.
He turns to her and narrows his eyes before focusing his gaze back on me. He takes note of Jeremy in the room and crosses his arms over his chest. Without thinking about it, I mirror his stance. I want to move my arms and do anything aside from looking like the spitting image of Sterling Grady, but I don’t want him to think I’m backing down. Because I am so not.
“Haven’t seen you in a few days,” Dad says with a nod in my direction.
“Yeah, I figured we needed a few days of space.” Truth be told, I wish he had shown up at Duke and Nic’s house right after our fight and apologized. But that’s not my dad, and I know better than to hope for an apology like that.
“I was hard on you,” he says. “Went too far, didn’t say what I wanted to.”
I swear the man is capable of forming complete sentences but definitely not when he struggling with his emotions. “Well, I’m listening now.”
“You two are so young. There’s no reason you got to rush into being adults. Trust me, it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. I just want you both to slow things down and focus on the shit you need to instead of each other all the time.”
“I love him,” I say in absence of the more eloquent response. It’s simple and it’s the truth, so really it’s all that I have. Dad’s eyes shift to Jeremy, totally ignoring my declaration.
“Jeremy, you’ve been fucking up the last few months. You’re not where you’re supposed to be, and when you are, you’re on your fucking phone. Spent a good year fucking begging for a cut. Did good with it until you got distracted. But the way you’re going, the brothers are never going to vote you in.”
I suck in a sharp breath and try to keep my composure. I don’t want him to know how much what he’s just said hurts. Jeremy’s gotten in trouble because of me, not because he’s lazy or disrespectful. He hasn’t forgotten where he is supposed to be and when. It’s only been to protect me.
“You get that?” Dad asks, his eyes now having traveled to Jeremy’s.
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy says like a goddamn parrot.
“Prospecting isn’t a time for hooking up. Your only priority should be the club, and if you can’t tell me without a doubt that you choose the cut over your girlfriend, then you might as well hand it over now.”
“Fiancée,” I snap. I shouldn’t let them get to me like this, but I can’t take it back. The word I so callously and carelessly threw out is probably the worst thing I could’ve said right now. Well, not technically the worst. I bet telling him I was pregnant would be worse, but only slightly.
“Fiancée?” Dad bellows. First, his face turns red, then his neck, and pretty soon his hands that are clenched at his sides have turned an unnatural combination of red and white.
“You heard a single word I said?” he screams. Holly jumps back half a foot, her eyes flutter closed and her entire frame goes rigid. While I don’t suffer such a violent physical reaction, I certainly feel his disapproval deep in my heart. “You are throwing your entire fucking future away for a little bit of a dick. I raised you better than that, Cheyenne. I don’t fucking understand where I went so wrong that you are this intent on destroying not just your future but his as well.”
Staring at him numbly, I try to figure out exactly what he’s telling me. It feels like he’s not so subtly dancing around what he really wants to say, which is surprising. He’s never been a man known for self-control.
“I’m going to marry him because I love him. Because the future you want for me isn’t the future I want for myself,” I say. The words fly from my mouth in a pathetic whine I can’t really control.
“Not without my vote, he won’t,” Dad says.
Very slowly, Jeremy turns his attention toward me. He shakes his head slowly and mouths, “Just stop.”
“It doesn’t take a club vote to get married,” I say. It’s his club—he should know the rules little bit better than that.
“No, but it does take the club to vote in an old lady. And as long as you keep acting like a spoiled fucking brat, I won’t ever allow you to be voted in.”
“Grady, man,” Jeremy says. His voice wavers, careful not to insult my dad, but fearful and pleading.
“No. I’m fucking done with this shit. I am the only one who’s noticed you can’t keep your dick on straight. You want to be Forsaken? You want to marry my girl? Only fucking way either of those is ever going to happen is if you can get your shit together long enough to not fuck up your entire future.”
“Wow, you can’t even be a little bit happy for me, can you?” I say. I fight back the tears that threaten to slip down my cheeks. I’m an adult, and I’m strong. I refuse to let any of them see how weak I really feel inside.
“It’s not about being happy for you, baby girl. It’s about doing right by you, and right now that means giving you some hard truths. You need to know that if you keep going like this, you’re going to cost that boy his patch. Best thing you can do for him is to just go to that goddamn school I told you I’d fucking pay for and let the kid earned his top rocker in peace.”
Dad raises an eyebrow, daring me to keep arguing. Honestly, I could argue with him for days. We’ve done it before, and I’m not afraid to do it again. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any point in it. He’s got himself convinced that our relationship is going to destroy both our lives, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to change that. So instead, I let my frustration get the better of me—I throw my hands in the air and stomp away.
Jeremy follows after me and pulls me aside into Alex’s room. I only know it’s her room because while there are posters of naked women on the walls, there are also competing department store photographs of flowers, the beach, and even one 5x7 of Ryan and Alex together. I never wondered what Ryan’s decorating style was, but now that I know, I’m really grateful that tiny little crush I had on him years ago has since faded and that nothing ever came of it. I totally couldn’t live with waking up every day to a woman’s fake rack.
“This is so fucked up,” Jeremy says. He’s scrubs his face with his hands and groans. “Maybe he’s right. I’ve been spending so much time trying to keep your ass out of trouble that I haven’t even been worried about mine.”
I have to turn away from him to stop myself from totally breaking down. We’ve been engaged for, what, three days? And he’s already got cold feet and changed his mind. I was afraid of this, even if I never wanted to admit it. Something in the back of my mind told me that this is what boys do. They make commitments they can’t keep. They tell you they’ll be with you forever, when what they really mean is that they’ll be with you until it’s no longer convenient. Because that’s all this is with my dad—inconvenient.
“Are you serious? Are you really going to let one argument stop us from being together the way we want to be?” I think I alrea
dy have my answer, but I’m not willing to accept it.
“You heard him,” he says. “When have you ever known Grady to threaten shit he doesn’t mean?”
“So this is it? Our relationship means so little to you that you can just throw us away at the first sign of trouble? Well, I guess it’s better to find this out now.”
“No, I’m not throwing us away. I’m fucking telling you that we’re rushing into shit.”
“So, what—you asked me to marry you and you didn’t mean it?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I fucking love you, but I don’t know how to do this and not fuck everything up at the club.”
And here it is, in terms so black-and-white that even I can’t pretend I don’t see it. He’s choosing the club over what we have. The pain from his rejection cuts me like a knife, slicing through my flesh as smooth as it would butter. I refuse to cry in front of him, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I just want him to know that I believe in us, and I’ll fight tooth and nail for there to be an us—always.
“I’m sorry,” he says as he closes in and reaches out for me.
I swat him away and beg for him to leave. Because if he stays, I’m going to cry. And today isn’t supposed to be a day of sorrow but a day of celebration.
Jeremy leaves. His absence practically suffocates me.
It doesn’t matter anymore. Because my father thinks I’m an idiot, my boyfriend doesn’t want to marry me, and every hope I had for my life has just shattered in a million little pieces. I would’ve thought something that hurts this bad would’ve come with a bigger hammer. But I guess not.
Minutes pass with me alone in Alex’s room, careful not to touch anything, just standing around and sniffling. I wish I had asked Jeremy for my car keys so I could go home, even if I know I’d get in trouble for being at the house by myself. I don’t really give a shit right now. All the men in my life are so keen on telling me what they think is best, but none of them are willing to listen to what I think is best for myself. So they can all go to hell.
“Cheyenne?” Alex says in a soft voice.
I spin around and stare at her sheepishly, then refocus my attention on her walls.
“I see you hired a professional decorator,” I say. I don’t know how to act with her, especially not right now. I formally met her once, but she’s my texting buddy, and I feel closer to her than I ever did to Tracie. And that’s saying something. She understands shit about my life that Tracie never could.
“Yeah, it’s a good thing I refused to pay him, right?” she says with a kind smile on her face. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I say sarcastically. “Jeremy just asked me to marry him a few days ago, and now, faced with Dad’s disapproval, he’s changed his mind. But I’m totally fine. Don’t worry about me,” I mutter, folding in on myself.
“Ouch,” she says, “but can I give you a piece of advice?”
No. I don’t want her advice. Alex has always encouraged me to go to school since I have the opportunity. She thinks I will regret not going, but she can’t possibly know that.
“Yeah,” I say. I want to refuse, but even I can’t figure out how to be that impolite.
“If Jeremy is willing to give up what you have so easily, then maybe that means he’s not ready for that kind of commitment just yet.”
“But I was ready,” I say. “Now I’m just pissed.”
“It’s just something to think about.”
It’s weird how we completely skipped the pleasantries and moved right into the deep stuff, but what’s even stranger is that it doesn’t feel weird at all.
“Well, I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” Alex says hopefully. “I really want to hang out, but my mom needs one of my nonna’s recipes.”
“Oh, a recipe for what?” I ask. I’m being nosy, but I don’t know Aunt Ruby to have a mother in her life, so I can only assume this is her Italian grandmother we’re talking about. Alex has sent over enough yummy Italian dishes that I know damn well the girl can cook, so if Ruby is making Italiano, I want a piece of that.
She walks over to her dresser and reaches into the top drawer where she pulls out a small leather notebook. It has a multitude of old, yellowed papers stuffed inside. She flips through for a few pages before pulling a slip out and smiling at me. Her long brown hair cascades down her back, and her heart-shaped face almost glows. She seems truly happy, not just surface happy. I’m glad she has that, even if I kind of want to slap it off her right now.
“It’s the frosting recipe for Italian cream cake,” she says.
I’ve never eaten Italian cream cake, but it sounds delicious, so I nod my head enthusiastically and tell her to make sure I get a slice. She agrees and rushes off, yelling in the distance about finding the recipe and asking Ruby if they have all the ingredients.
Being in Alex’s room alone makes me feel awkward, but she said she would be back in a moment, so I don’t want to run out and miss the chance to hang out. In her absence, I pace awkwardly, unable to stay still. That fight with Jeremy is making me stupid needy, but I can’t seem to help myself. I crave having a friendship with someone who doesn’t have to “follow orders” all the damn time. Then again, I don’t really know anybody very well who isn’t under control of the club.
Muted voices bring my attention to the hallway. I try not to be nosy, but the masculine conversation draws me in. The men speak in hushed tones as if trying to hide, but they’re not doing a very good job at it. I can hear them really well the more I listen in and the closer I get to the open doorway.
“Got everybody up here,” the deeper voice says. “Fucking idiots don’t know it’s coming.” I hold my breath and give it a moment, trying to place the voice. When it comes to me, it’s like a freightliner crashing into my chest—Uncle Rig. I don’t know who he’s talking about, but something doesn’t sit right with me.
“Good. He know I’m coming?” the other voice asks. The slight Midwestern inflection of his voice tells me it’s Daniel. I close my eyes and pray that listening in on this conversation isn’t as bad as it feels.
“No, couldn’t get to him. Should only have one guard on Michael right now. Get in and get him out as quickly as you can.”
“Where am I taking him?” Daniel asks.
“Get him to the Italian. He should be nearby if not already there. Keep your cover as long as you can,” Rig says.
Get Michael? What the hell? Their heavy steps creep away from Alex’s room and toward the sliding glass door at the other end of the hall. I suck in a breath and place my forehead on the wall before me. It sounds like Uncle Rig and Daniel are thinking about busting Michael out of the Ian’s house. And even though I know that’s what I heard, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it. That doesn’t make any sense at all. They’re Forsaken.
Still, I have to talk to somebody about it. Somebody I can trust.
I have to find Dad or Jeremy.
CHAPTER 24
April
12 months to Mancuso’s downfall
In the moments that pass after hearing of Uncle Rig and Daniel’s betrayal, I find myself unable to breath. My lungs drained with the need for oxygen, but my body refuses to comply. My muscles grow tense, and it’s difficult to move the longer that my body fights its natural need to care for itself.
Once I’m sure they are long gone, I dart out of Alex’s room intent on finding anybody I think I can trust. That’s not a whole hell of a lot of people, to be honest, but if I can find Dad or Jeremy or maybe even Aunt Ruby, I might be able to stop the entire world from imploding.
Rushing out into the hallway, I practically slam right into Alex. She laughs with the surprise shriek and asks if I’m okay.
“Where’s your mom?” I ask, not taking a moment to be polite about it.
“Outside, I think,” she says.
I don’t bother to thank her. I just push past her and rush out the front door.
Just off the deck, surrounded by a co
uple of old ladies and Chel, Aunt Ruby stands with a beer in her hand and a casual smile on her face. I push off the side of the house and run to her, tugging on her arm the moment I reach her. She jerks back violently with wide eyes and an explosive fear plastered on her face.
“What the hell?”
“Need your help,” I say and tug her away from her conversation. With jerky movements, I survey my surroundings and make sure we’re alone once we reach the garage. The door’s open and nobody is in sight, so we should be safe. I hope.
“Problem,” I say. “I have to tell you something, and you’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but it’s super important that you know I’m telling you the truth.” It’s not just kind of a big deal to tell somebody that somebody is betraying the patch—it’s the kind of deal that wars start over and entire villages get slaughtered because of. Trusting Aunt Ruby with this should be considered a compliment, but I have a feeling she’s not going to consider it as such.
“If it’s important, just tell me,” she says softly. Aunt Ruby doesn’t do soft very often, but when she does, you know she means business.
“I overheard Uncle Rig and Daniel talking about getting Michael out of Ian’s house. They called the club a bunch of idiots, and they said something about working with ‘the Italian,’ ” I tell her in a rush.
Ruby appraises me. Everybody who knows me is well aware that I’m comfortable telling a little white lie, but I hope they all know I wouldn’t lie about something this serious.
“Baby, I’m sure you heard them wrong. I know that sounds scary, but the club probably has a reason for what they’re doing.”
“No,” I say, “I heard Uncle Rig call everybody a bunch of idiots. He’s betraying the club, like right the hell now, and I need you to help me get Dad down there to stop him.”
“Cheyenne, have you been drinking?”
“No! What the hell?”
She lets out of heavy sigh and nods her head. “Let me go find your uncle Jim, and you can tell him what you heard. That way we’re not interfering with club business. I just have to find them first.”
