“I’ll be right here if you need me,” Ms. Whitlock says.
I try to smile at her, but it must fall short because I don’t feel movement on my face. I stand, leave the dining room and do my best to wave at the girls in the living room who say hi to me. The heavy front door squeaks as I open it, and I step out into the warm, spring day. It’s weird for the sky to be so blue, so full of light, when my brain feels swamped by fog.
“Are you okay?” Dust asks. He leans against the railing of the porch, and he’s so incredibly handsome that he takes my breath away.
Yes, no… “I don’t know. All of this is…a lot.”
“When Mia and I left home, we were scared to death. We felt that way for a while afterwards, too. There were times I never thought I’d feel safe again. I never imagined I would find a normal. But eventually I did find a normal, and I found safe.”
Exhausted and heavy, I drop onto the top step of the porch and think of home. I think of my room, I think of my mom and I think of all the things I love, and I’m overwhelmed by grief.
But then I think of my father’s anger if I were to return, of his harsh voice, of the way he’d raise his hand at me and…I shiver. My head falls into my hands, and I wish it were six months from now. I don’t know what will be solved in six months, but six months wouldn’t be today. And six months from now has to be better, right?
“What happened to you?” I mumble through my fingers then lift my head. “Mia said the woman’s shelter helped her. What happened to you?”
Dust closes the distance between us then sits on the step next to me. Not right next to me. He leaves about three inches in between us, but he’s just the right amount of close. As if he’s practiced in finding the perfect comfortable space for someone like me.
“Eli talked a family in the club into taking me in,” Dust says. “They fostered me until I turned eighteen then let me live with them until I could support myself.”
It makes more sense now. “And then you joined the club?”
“And then I joined the club,” he confirms.
We’re in a quiet neighborhood. The type where even the squirrels are mute. A car ambles by, doing the speed limit, and I wonder if Dad hit me so hard that I died.
I swallow and tell Dust the truth, because I think he’ll understand. “I’m scared.”
“I was, too, but I’m not anymore. I understand that relying on strangers is terrifying, but the people Mia is going to introduce you to are the real deal. They want to help. You just have to decide to let them in.”
I breathe in deeply, then let out an even longer breath. When will life be easy?
“The unknown is scary,” Dust says. “It’ll help if you have some ‘known’ to pull you through. I’ll drag Razor and Breanna up once a week to visit you, and I’ve heard you and Violet have become closer. I can bring her up, too.”
I nibble on my bottom lip. Razor and Breanna will be in Snowflake for a few weeks, but they plan on leaving soon for the northeast. Breanna wants to be settled in before she starts her fancy Ivy League university, and Razor is supposed to be opening a new MC chapter and expanding the security company. Violet will visit, but she and Chevy are planning on a road trip before they begin college in the fall.
“I’d like that,” I say. “But if they aren’t available, or can’t come, will...you?”
“Yes,” he says. “As long as you want me, I’ll visit.”
I close my eyes, as this is the first time in months that I feel like I’ve heard something I can truly trust. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
I reopen my eyes, and Dust and I fall into a comfortable silence as we stare out at the world. It’s weird how things change, how plans fall apart then new ones come together. Twenty-four hours ago, I had plans to leave town and leave behind everything in my life. I had plans to be forever alone. Now? I might be able to keep some parts of my life, like my friends, and not be alone. And I have a new friend, and his name is Dust.
“It’s going to be okay now, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, and he glances over at me as if I’m someone worth looking at. “It is.”
Chapter 25
Eli
Isaiah likes Nina. Every time she talks, he pays attention, and he often cracks a grin. I don’t blame him. The woman is a born storyteller. Better than any bar-hugging brother in the club can spin a tale. The way she talks about my brother James brings him to life so vividly that part of me expects to turn and find him walking from the clubhouse to join us.
His body might not be here, but with each story Nina tells, I can feel his spirit. For that, I will forever be grateful.
We sit in a circle of lawn chairs in the yard, near the clubhouse and under the shade of the trees. It’s evening, the sun has started to set in the sky, and the white Christmas lights hanging from the limbs above us twinkle.
Beside me, Nina leans forward in her chair and is explaining how James used to beg her to cut class in high school, and how one time, when things went bad on their way out of school, they spent an entire class period hidden in the boys’ locker room to keep from getting caught. Isaiah laughs at parts of the story, and he reaches over and takes his girlfriend Rachel’s hand.
It was an unconscious movement. One he makes often. Touches her when he has a burst of emotion. He gravitates toward her and she’s always there. An ever-present rock. Rachel’s shorter than Isaiah, and at first glance, she appears as if she could be fragile. But it didn’t take us long to realize that if we looked at Isaiah the wrong way, she’d take us out faster than a sniper in a war zone.
Good thing for us, she likes Nina’s stories as well. Rachel also took to Cyrus. She was gracious enough to flip through my mom’s photo albums full of baby pictures of my brother and me, and Rachel was a willing ear for Cyrus’s long-winded stories of our misspent youth.
It’s been a good day, but it’s gone by too fast. I was grateful when Isaiah agreed to stay for lunch, and even more grateful he’s agreed to stay for dinner. Oz’s parents, Rebecca and Man O’ War, and Razor’s dad and soon-to-be stepmom are manning the grill. The scent of barbecue lingers in the air and causes my mouth to water.
Oz, Razor, Violet and Breanna have been beelining it back and forth between the kitchen and the long row of picnic tables they put together with dishes, cups and large trays of sides. Everyone has stayed back to give me, Dad, Nina, Emily, and Chevy the opportunity to talk with Isaiah and Rachel.
The teens laugh hysterically at the ending of Nina’s story. With a dazzling smile on her face, Nina glances over in my direction, and I nod back in gratitude. She’s the reason this day has been a success.
“Dinner will be ready soon!” Rebecca calls from the picnic tables, and that’s our cue to start moving in the direction of the food.
Most everyone stands, and Rachel attaches herself to Emily’s side, asking her to explain again the events of last summer when I was shot. Emily recounts the story for the second time, telling the truth at every turn, while reassuring Rachel that she feels safe being around the club and that she and Isaiah should feel safe, too.
We’ve been honest with Isaiah and Rachel. Emily has taught me to do that. There are ugly things in my past, ugly parts of the club’s history, but we’re trying to do better going forward. Isn’t that all any of us can do?
Chevy wraps an arm around Violet’s shoulder as the two of them and Cyrus head for the picnic tables. I glance over, and I’m surprised to find Isaiah still in his seat. I imagine the world finds him terrifying. Tall, tattoos, broad-shouldered, earrings, black shirt, ripped blue jeans and boots built to kick.
Isaiah intimidates me, not because of his appearance, but because he’s my nephew— close to a grown man—and I want so badly for him to like this family. He may not need us, but we need him. Badly. So much has happened over the past eighteen years; so much has happened in the past year alone. It’s time for the bruises and cuts to mend, and I’d like him to be a part of that
healing.
“Thank you for coming out,” I say. “It’s meant a lot to this family.” To me.
Isaiah shifts forward, the pose indicating a man on a hunt for real knowledge. “Is it true? None of you had any idea about me?”
Cyrus and Nina have both told him the truth already, but if I were him, I’d be doing the same thing—digging deeper.
“The way I see it,” Isaiah continues, “everyone around here looks at you as their leader. It’s nothing they said, nothing they overtly did, but it’s the subtle stuff that matters. A leader is who people look at when someone cracks a joke or when a moment gets serious. The glance is quick. Most people don’t notice they do it or when someone else does it, but it’s there, and they all look at you.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I’m grateful he keeps going. “I need to know, man to man, did any of you know about me?”
He’s asking if we ignored his existence when his father died. That death left him and his mom alone. He’s asking if we denied him a home after his mother went to prison and he was dumped into foster care.
I pull on my earlobe then mirror his position. “Isaiah, blood means everything to this family. If we had known about you, we would have brought you and your mother here and we would have taken care of both of you. If we had found out about you later, after your mother went to prison, there’s no doubt Cyrus would have taken you in. But because we didn’t know about you, we’re on the losing end of this. You’re too old for us to swoop in and take you in, but we want you here all the same. But the choice is yours. We want you to be a part of this family. I want you to be a part of this family, and I hope you’ll allow us to be part of yours.”
Isaiah stares at me for a few beats, longer than most people can stand, then nods like he’s come to some type of conclusion. I only hope it’s in my favor. He stands, so do I and he extends his hand to me.
The warmth overtaking my body is as good as it felt the first time the doctors placed Emily in my arms. I take Isaiah’s hand, we shake and when I pull him in for a quick hug, he leans in and gives me a pat on the shoulder. I draw back and cup the side of his head. “You’re family now, and there’s nothing we won’t do for you. Anything, anytime.”
A softening in his gray eyes as he does another nod in understanding.
“Ready for some food?” I say.
Isaiah chuckles. “Do you people always eat so much around here?”
On the picnic table is enough to feed an army, and I grin. Rebecca must have given the signal for the club to arrive. “Hopefully you’ll visit enough to figure out if it’s too much food or not enough.”
His eyebrows rise. “Not enough?”
Motorcycle engines rumble in the distance and I angle my head to the road. “You’re about to find out. Isaiah, your world is about to get a lot bigger.”
He smiles, just like my brother used to, and I start to make plans. Plans I hadn’t thought I’d ever make—plans to build Isaiah his first motorcycle. He’s a McKinley, and being around us, he’s going to need it.
“What type of Harley do you like?” I ask him, and his forehead furrows.
“I’m more of a Mustang Man.”
I shake my head at him. “That’s because you’ve never been on a bike. We’re going to have to change that.”
“Fine, but if I do that, then you’re taking out a fully loaded Cobra on a drag strip. Twenty bucks you’ll be changing your mind on your mode of transportation.”
Doubt that, but I like how easy the conversation’s flowing, so I take that bet and listen as he fills me in on the car he’s currently working on at his shop.
Chapter 26
Pigpen
Caroline pulls her car into the grass next to the line of bikes, and I’m surprised when she cuts the engine.
“Thank you for helping Addison,” Dust says from the backseat. Addison decided to stay with Mia. She gave Caroline a hug goodbye and gave Dust an even longer one.
“Thank you for involving me,” Caroline responds, but she looks at me instead of Dust. Then she switches her gaze to the backseat. “Addison said you’re going to visit her.”
Once a week was the rumor I heard, but I keep that to myself. I’m happy that Dust is breaking out of his shell, and I’m happier it’s for Addison.
Dust cracks open his door. “Yeah.”
“Would you mind if I came along sometime?”
I glance over my shoulder for his response. He looks at me for approval, and I nod.
“Sure,” he says, and he’s out the door before she has the opportunity to ask anything else.
“When you want to see her,” I say, “I can go with you. Dust isn’t much of a conversationalist.”
Her lips quirk up. “He’s a good man.”
“Agreed.”
“And so are you.”
That catches me off guard, and I do a double-take. Her gorgeous blue eyes meet mine, and for one of the few times in my life, I’m at a loss for words.
I’d love to lean forward, brush my lips against hers and lose myself in her forever. But tonight’s not the night. I’m hoping she’ll give me another chance. “It looks like the club is hosting a family dinner tonight. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. Do you want to stay?”
“I don’t want to impose.”
I flash her a grin that causes her to smile in return. “One, that’s too formal. Two, they make enough food to feed an army. Three, you helped us out today. Whether you like it or not you’re a friend of the club now.”
Her eyebrows rise at this, and I’m impressed when she’s bold enough to open her door and slip out. I immediately join her as we cross the field for the crowd near the food.
“What exactly does being a friend of the club entail?” she asks.
I shove my hands into my pockets and silently berate myself. Usually with women I’m as smooth as silk, but Caroline twists me all up inside to the point I feel like a middle school boy working up the courage to ask a girl to slow dance. “It means you get first dibs on Rebecca’s potato salad.”
She laughs, and I love the sound.
“It also means that if you have a problem, we’ll be there for you like you were there for us today.”
She pauses, and the serious set of her eyes freezes me in place. “I did all of that for Addison.”
“I know, and that makes me respect you more. There’s not many people who care like you do. That’s rare, and that makes you a friend of mine.”
She tilts her head, and there’s a soft curiosity there that fires up every cell in my body with the need to touch her. “A friend of the club or yours?”
“Both.”
“Why do you do it?” she asks in bewilderment. “Why do you give so much to these teens? They aren’t your children, yet at every turn I’ve seen you there for them. Tonight with Addison, for Chevy and Violet after the kidnapping, for Oz after Olivia’s death, for Violet’s younger brother Brandon when he’s been picked on relentlessly at school, and then for Razor. Three quarters of the school forgot Razor had a father because they believed you had taken on custody of him. Why do you fight for them so hard?”
I shrug, off balance at the realization that she’s noticed me before. “Why do you?”
She shakes her head like she doesn’t believe she’s as much a fighter as I am.
“You’re hard on them because you demand the best out of them. You see their potential, and you push until they see it themselves.”
“It’s my job.”
“You could pop in a movie for your English class, sit back and do Sudoku all year, but you don’t.”
“There’s more to you,” she counters, evading my comment. “It takes a huge heart to love when that person doesn’t love you back. Teens can be tough that way.”
Adults, too, but I love these teens because they do love. I didn’t understand that type of love at their age, but I’ve been learning how to love like that in the years since. “I guess you’re going to have to han
g out with me to get a handle on this ‘more’ you say that I possess.”
She brightens like a supernova, and I will never be the same again. “I feel like there was a challenge somewhere in that.”
“Depends. Do you like a challenge?” I ask.
“I love one.”
So do I. “Then consider yourself challenged. Let’s get some food. You’re going to need the energy.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I plan on asking you to take a ride with me later on the back of my bike.”
“And you’re assuming I’ll accept?”
I want her to accept. “Your choice.”
“That was the correct answer.”
I like that I’m a fast learner. Because I’m just as bold as she is, I take her hand. Nothing in my world has felt right until this moment—the one where her fingers lace through mine and she holds onto me just as tightly as I’m holding on to her.
Chapter 27
Eli
Once again, I’m on the front steps of Dad’s cottage, watching my family as they gather around a bonfire under the spring night sky. Oz finishes a story, and there are a few chuckles, but then Razor adds something to the conversation, and the group breaks out into full blown laughter—Emily holding her stomach as she leans forward in a fit of giggles. Even Isaiah and Rachel, the newest to our clan, join in as if they have always belonged. Oz smiles as he flips Razor off, and Razor smiles back as he returns the gesture.
After I was sentenced to prison, I never thought I’d experience joy again. I’m glad I was wrong.
“Is this your favorite spot?” Nina asks as she climbs the steps to join me.
“I like the view.”
She follows my gaze to the bonfire, and the softness of her expression is beautiful. “I agree. It’s a good view.”
“Thank you for being here today. You made a huge impact on Isaiah.”
The Novella Collection: A series of short stories for the Pushing the Limits series, Thunder Road series, and Only a Breath Apart Page 12
