Renewed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #4

by Ames, Jessica

  I was surprised she wanted to come at all, given the age range of attendees. I think she’s regretting it now.

  “Can we not discuss my future brother-in-law like that?” I mutter. Not that I can’t appreciate Jem and Adam’s physiques, but I see them as younger siblings. It’s weird.

  Kenzie’s hands flash. “Can we not discuss my brothers like that full stop? Gross.”

  “What? You have hot brothers, Kenz. I can’t help that. Jem is like a walking sex god. All that blond hair and muscles. And Adam…” She moans.

  Mackenzie’s nose wrinkles.

  “Cake,” I repeat. “Let’s do cake.”

  I push up from the table, thankful the others follow because it puts a stop to the ‘Jem is sexy’ conversation. Jem is good looking but really, I don’t need to hear about how much Jamie wants to jump his bones.

  As I move, I catch sight of Piper. She’s looking at Jamie, her gaze uncertain and her cheeks a little flushed, her mouth pulled into a line, and honestly, she looks… well, jealous.

  Does she have a thing for one of the Harlow boys?

  She’s the same age as Adam, if I remember rightly. Wade will hit the roof if any of his brothers touch his sister, but her and Ad would be a good fit. They’re both fairly well-matched personality wise and they’d look good together.

  Hmm…

  She definitely can’t like Jem. He’s an enormous man-child, and Piper is kind of serious.

  Mary carves up the cake, which results in a ton of laughter. We all revert back to teenagers as we watch her cut through the penis-shaped icing, but it breaks through the tension that settled around us all. Sammy demands the crown, which has us all in hysterics as she licks over the head of it. Lucky Ghost.

  I’m just working through my piece when Mary comes over to me.

  “Are you having a good night?”

  “Yeah,” I tell her. “I am. Thank you for arranging this.”

  “Well, it was mostly the girls. I’ve been doing more of the wedding stuff.”

  Her candour doesn’t surprise me, but it does make me laugh. “Thank you anyway.”

  She stares at me for a moment. “You’re good for him. He needs someone like you, someone who isn’t afraid to tell him no once in a while.”

  I snort. “I tell him no all the time. He doesn’t listen.”

  “He listens to you more than he does to most people.”

  This I doubt but I don’t argue with her.

  “He’s good to me.”

  “You’re good to him,” she counters.

  “I guess we’re good to each other. I wish we hadn’t wasted so much time, though.”

  “There’s little point living in the past, darling. You can only live in the present.”

  This is true. I push my fork into the sponge cake. “Yeah, still, it’s annoying. If we’d got our shit together sooner, we could have been happily married a long time ago.”

  “So, don’t have more regrets.”

  “I don’t plan on it.”

  “I don’t think things are over in the Club yet,” she surprises me by saying.

  “You don’t?”

  She shakes her head. “Things still feel terribly unsettled, don’t you think?”

  They do, so I nod. “Yeah, but I don’t know why or how to fix it.”

  She laughs a little. “I was an old lady for many years before Frank died. It’s a weird position—to support your man, but never really know what you’re supporting. You have to know but not know, you know?”

  I frown at her. “That’s a hell of a riddle, Mary.”

  “I’m just saying you need to make sure you’re ready to support Logan in the coming months. As his old lady, he’s going to need you more than ever.”

  For some reason, her words send a chill skittering up my spine. There’s an ominous sense about what she says that makes my belly fill with unease. “And I’ll do my duty.”

  And I will. I’m more than aware of my position and the expectations of my role in the Club. I grew up knowing exactly what was expected of me before I ever took Logan’s property patch.

  “I know you will, darling. You’ve always been such a good girl, but I think the storm is going to get worse before it gets better. You need to be prepared.”

  Again, ice chips settle in my guts. I wonder how much she knows, whether she’s aware of Slade’s part in Tap’s death, and if she knows more things are happening behind the scenes that I don’t know about. Either way, her words scare me.

  “Mary?”

  “I know these men, darling, and I know how they work. Things are moving and are in motion. Something is going on. I don’t know what, but something is happening. Us women have to be ready to stand together when it hits—whatever it is.”

  She grabs my hand and I squeeze it tightly.

  “Always.”

  “I love you, my darling girl. I’ve always loved you like you were my own.”

  And with that she heads back over to the table leaving me reeling from her words.

  Chapter Twenty

  I wake early Saturday morning in my old bedroom at Dad’s house. Last time I stayed here I was surrounded by junk and old Harley-Davidson memorabilia, but Dad seems to have had a clear out (or at least shifted the boxes out, so I can move around freely).

  My eyes gravitate to the clear plastic covering over my wedding dress, which is hanging from the wardrobe door.

  Holy shit, I’m getting married today.

  Butterflies seem to dance in my stomach as I lie there, my mind locked on that one thought. I’m marrying my man today.

  Over the last ten years, I never thought this day would come. There were times when I thought Logan was lost to me forever, even as a friend.

  I stare at my engagement ring, twisting the huge rock on my finger as I smile. Sometimes, it doesn’t seem real he’s mine.

  How the hell did this day come around so fast?

  It seems like ten minutes ago since I started planning this thing… now, here we are on the morning of the event. I feel strangely calm. Why? Because I’m marrying my best friend in the world. Why would I ever be nervous about that?

  Slowly, I stretch and reach for my phone on the bedside table. There’s a text from Logan, which makes me chuckle. I knew he wouldn’t be able to cut contact, even for one night. He complained noisily about tradition being stupid as fuck and that whoever made up that shit about it being bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding was a stupid arse, but he did relent, agreeing to spend the night at the clubhouse with his brothers, while I came to Dad’s. I wasn’t over the moon about being separated myself, to be honest.

  LOGAN: I know it’s bad luck or some shit to see you before the ceremony, but no one said anything about talking to you, so I just wanted to say morning beautiful, tell you I love you and that I can’t wait to see you later when I’m making you my wife.

  Okay, I admit, that makes my stomach tingle. He’s such a smooth talker.

  I text back.

  ME: I can’t wait to see you later, too. I hate not sleeping next to you. It was weird. Let’s never do that again. I hope you like my dress. I love you and I miss you.

  I’m just swinging my legs out of bed when my phone pings again with another message.

  LOGAN: I’m going to love your dress. And I’ll love what’s under it, too.

  He really will. I bought all new underwear for tonight and it’s pretty sexy stuff. It’s all lacy and barely there. Yeah, he’s going to have a heart attack when he sees it.

  I grab my robe and wrap myself up in it before I head downstairs. Unsurprisingly, I find my father already sitting at the breakfast bar with a coffee and the paper. Late to bed, early to rise: that’s Dad. It’s annoyingly a habit I never inherited.

  Things between us have been… Not strained since he got back from his disappearing act, but not entirely settled either. I wish I could just say water under the bridge, but I’m having a hard time letting things go. I know it’s ridiculous,
given my own past, but I thought we had decided to start afresh when I came home. Him taking off like that without a word didn’t feel like it. It felt like old times when one of us would just hit the road to deal with our problems. I know I’m a grown up and I shouldn’t care what he does, but I needed him here. Still, I don’t want to cause a scene or act like a raging bitch, but I’m not feeling exactly warm towards him yet either.

  He glances up as I enter, his eyes going soft.

  “Don’t,” I warn.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Start going mushy on me, because if you do, I’m going to cry and if I start crying now, I’m going to cry all fucking day.”

  He snorts. “You’re a Goddard; we don’t do crying.”

  “On our wedding day, we absolutely do,” I counter as I move to the kettle. “Do you want a top up?”

  “No, I’m good.” He studies me for a moment. “Are you feeling okay about today?”

  I consider his question and then I bob my head. “Yeah, I actually feel fine. It’s Logan. I love him and I want to be with him. There’s nothing to be nervous about when I think about it like that. Besides, we’re technically married already. I’ve been wearing his property patch for months. This is just for the legality of it.”

  “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead. His skin is a little pale.

  “What?”

  “When in the hell did you get so grown up?”

  “Dad, I’m thirty. I’ve been grown up for a long time.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been in denial about that for a long time, too, sweetheart.”

  “Well, time to stop being in denial. I’m about to get married, Dad.”

  “Fuck, kid. Where’d the time go?”

  “Who knows?” I pour my coffee and turn back to him, leaning a hip against the breakfast bar. “The girls will be here in ten minutes. I don’t know if you want to go and get ready at Grandad’s and come back when we’re ready to leave for the clubhouse.”

  Grandad was released from the hospital on Wednesday, which was a relief, but also a worry. I hate him being over at the house alone, but he wouldn’t stay with Dad. Short of kidnapping him—which I did suggest—we have to let him do his own thing. He does have carers going in twice a day now as well as a plethora of old ladies and brothers. Hopefully, if he collapses again there will be someone with him to get him help.

  “You’re letting me off the hook?”

  “Unless you really want to sit around while we’re doing hair and makeup.”

  “Fuck no.”

  I smile. “Then get going.”

  He kisses my forehead. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “Bye, Dad.”

  I get seven whole minutes of peace between Dad leaving and the girls descending. Mary, Mackenzie, Sofia, Liv, Sammy, Jamie, Paige, and Clara all cram into Dad’s small house. I have no idea how they all fit, but somehow, they do. Wade’s sister, Piper is supposed to be here, too, but she’s not among them. Paige doesn’t explain and I don’t push, but she seems upset by the fact. I thought Wade and Piper were rebuilding bridges. They’ve been in contact over the last few months. He’s visited her, and she was here as recently as my hen do just last week. I thought they were getting closer. Her not turning up today is a kick in the teeth for him. My heart hurts for Wade. The brother is an enigma, quiet, withdrawn, but he has a fierce loyalty beneath that. He stepped in front of a bullet to save me. He was secretly optimistic about getting to know his sister. I could see it when we talked that day in Lace. I thought she would reciprocate that. Maybe I misread her.

  I don’t have time to worry about the Wade siblings, though. Not today. There’s too much to do this morning.

  Dorothy, Dean’s gran, comes down later and it’s nonstop chaos as they prep me for my wedding.

  I manage to get Liv on her own to find out if she spoke to Dean about her run in with Brosen, although it takes me half the morning and the pretence of helping her to get into her bridesmaid dress—although she does need the assistance.

  “He was annoyed that I didn’t tell him,” she admits, worrying at her bottom lip. She disappears momentarily as I drop the dress over her head.

  “Expected,” I say, settling the material around her shoulders. She helps to get it in place, the empire waist sitting just above her swell of belly.

  “He’s barely left my side all week, which I know is causing trouble with the Club. He’s needed there, not babysitting me.”

  Logan’s been busy with Club stuff this past week, too. I don’t know what is going on and he hasn’t said anything, but something is moving again. I think Mary was right when she said this, whatever this is, isn’t done yet.

  “You’re carrying his child, Liv. Some idiot is threatening you. He’s going to hover.”

  “I don’t want him to get into trouble.”

  My lips lift.

  “Dean won’t get into trouble.”

  I don’t think so anyway. I wouldn’t tell Liv even if he would. She’s got enough to worry about.

  She stares at me, the scepticism in her expression telling me how much she believes what I’m saying. “Has that P.I. been back to you? Can you zip me?”

  I shake my head, and oblige, taking the zip and sliding it up her back. “No. Have you seen him again?”

  “No, but Dean hasn’t left my side either.”

  “You need to be careful,” I tell her, my gaze going to her stomach. “You need to look after this little one, and I know Dean can be… well, a little overbearing, but he’s just worried.”

  “I know,” Liv says, smoothing her dress down and making sure it’s lying flat now it’s on her. “I’m worried too. I don’t want anything bad to happen, believe me, but I can take care of myself. I survived years under Simon. I can survive this creepy little P.I. man.”

  She did, and the strength of character she had to do that never fails to amaze me. I would not last five minutes with a man doing the things Simon Wilson did to her. I’m not that strong. Liv survived years of it and she came out the other side a fucking angel. Now, she helps women like her. She spends her time helping other women who suffer at the hands of violent men. I would have curled into a ball and given up. Liv’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met. I have no idea how she does it, but that doesn’t mean she has to keep being strong alone. Liv has people now who want to carry some of that burden for her. She has family and friends. She has support—something Liv seems to struggle with.

  “You did survive Simon, but you have Dean now, and he’s never going to let anything or anyone touch you again, Liv, and the fact this guy got near you is probably tearing him apart.”

  She blows out a breath. “We’ve got good men, but they’re not easy.”

  “Nope,” I agree, “but you are right about them being good. Now, let’s get you ready. I don’t think it’ll go down well if I’m late to my own wedding.”

  “Sweetie, you can be as late as you want. It’s your day.”

  “If I keep Logan waiting too long, he might change his mind about making me his wife.”

  “I doubt that.”

  I doubt it, too.

  In the Club’s eyes, I’m already Logan’s. He gave me his patch; I’m his. Marrying him today makes me his in the civilian world, too, and it means I can take his name as well.

  Mrs Bethany Marie Harlow.

  I’m kind of sad to lose the Goddard name. I’m the last Goddard, in fact, which I know must be hard for both Grandad and Dad. They wanted boys to carry on that legacy; they got me instead. But I want to be Logan’s wife and I want his name. I guess I never really thought about what it would mean taking his name though, how that would be the end to the Goddard line, and there is a part of me that feels a little guilty about that. Grandad has another kid, but she’s a girl, so can’t carry on the name either. Even if she could, my aunt isn’t into the MC world. In fact, I haven’t seen her or my cousins in years.

  The girls work on my hair, styling it into loose curls, one
side held back with a silver slide at the side of my head. Paige does my makeup. I make her chuckle by asking for natural, not stripper. She does a great job, giving me glossy lips and soft pink cheeks.

  Finally, I slip into my dress and a pair of high white heels that finish off the entire ensemble. Dorothy lends me the something old and borrowed—a diamond bracelet that feels like it costs more than my entire outfit.

  Mary gives me a blue garter that I slide up my thigh and hide under my dress for Logan to discover later.

  My new comes from my bridesmaids who give me a matching necklace and earring set that is similar to the bracelet.

  When I’m finished, I move to the mirror I brought down from the back bedroom and look at myself, and I have to admit, I look amazing. Just the right side of wedding, but not too fussy.

  Liv, Mackenzie and Sofia are all dressed in dark plum coloured dresses that are all different styles to suit their personalities. Liv’s has an empire waist to accommodate her baby bump, while Sofia has gone for a sweetheart neckline that shows off her narrow shoulders. Mackenzie’s dress has tiny capped sleeves and gathers just under her breasts. All three dresses sit just above the knee. I went for something a little longer, so mine brushes the floor, but the material is thin and flows around me effortlessly. I didn’t want something heavy or awkward to move around in.

  “Jesus, fuck.” Dad’s voice behind me has me turning and when I do, I get choked up seeing the emotion in his face.

  “Don’t,” I warn. “If you cry, I’m going to cry and Paige has just spent hours doing my makeup!”

  Dad scrubs a hand over his chin, his eyes moist, blinking rapidly as he takes me in. And I forget all the shit between us. I forget I’m mad at him. I forget everything. All I see is my father, looking so proud, so happy, so overwhelmed. We’ve had our shares of ups and downs over the years, but I don’t doubt the man loves me. He may have wanted me to be a boy, and maybe I wasn’t exactly planned in his life, but he kept me and he raised me. He didn’t have to do that. I have a lot to be thankful for.