The Novella Collection: A series of short stories for the Pushing the Limits series, Thunder Road series, and Only a Breath Apart

by Katie McGarry

  I nod because it’s all good to hear. Then there’s a moment of awkward silence as I close the trunk to my Mustang.

  “How’s The Plan going?” Eli tries again.

  The Plan—capital letters always included, when I think of the words. Rachel and I concocted The Plan when we were teenagers making out in the backseat of our cars. My part of The Plan: I work at Pro-Performance, grow my reputation in the custom car community, sack away as much money as I can, work at Tom’s garage to make additional money, and cultivate more relationships with future clients.

  Rachel’s part of The Plan was to go to college and earn her degrees in business and electrical engineering—knowledge that will be helpful with newer-model cars. Rachel earned her degrees last year. Since then, she’s been working a desk job at her father’s company, soaking in as much business knowledge while she can, as we save the money we need to build our own shop. The timeline—we’ve got five more years of our ten-year plan.

  After we buy the land and start building the shop, we’ll get married. For now, I live in a rat-infested apartment I barely let Rachel visit. The place is in a high-crime neighborhood and not worthy of her, but it costs next to nothing. To help save more money, she lives at home.

  We’re on track for our dreams to come true, but sometimes, when I’m kissing her goodbye at night, our timeline feels too far away. “The Plan’s going well.”

  “I think Oz is going to propose to Emily this weekend,” Eli says, and my eyes snap to his when I don’t hear happiness.

  “You know?” I test the waters.

  “Yeah. Oz asked me and her Dad’s permission last spring.”

  “I thought you’d be good with them getting married.” Emily is his daughter, and Oz is like a son to him. As long as I’ve been around, Eli’s been in favor of the relationship.

  “I am,” Eli says. “But Oz keeps trying to create the perfect moment, and I have a feeling with everyone coming home this weekend, he’s not going to find the scenario he wants. She leaves for Europe next week.”

  I stare at him blankly. “If he doesn’t, he doesn’t. Oz and Emily are solid. Distance and time won’t shake that.”

  “Agreed, but this is something he’s been trying to do since he asked my permission. If he doesn’t do it before she goes, he’ll regret it and beat himself up for it. With Emily being an ocean away, that’s a tough regret to have. Oz is waiting for perfection and that doesn’t exist.”

  Yeah, I’ll give him that. “Regret’s a bitch.”

  Eli inclines his head in agreement. “That it is. Life changes fast, Isaiah. Sometimes too fast. I wish I had understood that when I was younger.” He forces a smile on his face. “You ready to head back to Cyrus’s?”

  I nod, but can’t help but wonder why there’s a pit in my stomach and why my brain won’t let go of the word regret.

  Chapter 37

  Rachel

  Nina and Eli built a small house in the woods of Cyrus’s property. It’s quaint and adorable, like stepping into a fairytale cottage, and comes equipped with modern conveniences. It’s far enough away that they have privacy, but when cold weather comes and the leaves fall away, they’ll probably be able to see the clubhouse from their front porch.

  We enter the kitchen, and Nina sets the cup of coffee she had in her hand during the tour of the house on the counter. I glance out the back window and marvel at the beauty of the thick green woods. “Have you seen any deer?”

  “Every morning.” Nina wears a huge smile, like someone who’s in love and happy. Every word that comes out of her mouth is complete with a flourish of her left hand—as if she subconsciously has to show the world not only her engagement ring, but the wedding band Eli gave her when they eloped in Nashville. “Eli and I watch them graze as the sun comes up.”

  I have a hard time seeing the tattooed, hardcore motorcycle man being a softie for morning deer, but then again, the tattooed, hardcore man I love has a thing for stray puppies. Isaiah owns a German Shepherd mix he found as a puppy outside of Pro-Performance and a small white Shih Tzu he discovered shivering in the rain outside Taco Bell. He named the German Shepherd Mustang and he named the Shih Tzu Ford.

  “How’s The Plan going?” Nina asks.

  The ends of my lips turn up. That is possibly the most-asked question Isaiah and I receive when we visit the Reign of Terror. They are utterly and completely fascinated by our ten-year strategy. Most people thought we would crumble once I graduated from college last year, but we’re staying true to our dreams. “It’s going well. We have a ton of money saved up, and we’re on track to build a garage in five years. Everything will be new and shiny, and it’s going to be perfect.”

  “I often wish I had your and Isaiah’s persistence and perseverance at your age. I would have graduated from college in my twenties instead of going part-time in my forties.” Nina is studying to become a therapist. She said that after years of listening to people talk about their problems while she worked as a bartender, she might as well do it for a living.

  “I couldn’t wait to get out of my parents’ house when I turned eighteen,” she continues. “I wanted my independence so bad I did anything to get it. I am absolutely in awe of you.”

  “Thank you.” Nina is being genuine with me. Unfortunately, I’ve heard backhanded comments about my choices for years—you’re still in college and live at home? You’re graduated and working a full-time job and still live at home?

  Most times, it’s exhausting to explain. The first year of college, I lived at home and not in the dorms because I was still recovering from an accident that happened my junior year of high school. Yes, the accident and my injuries were that bad. My parents would have paid for me to live in the dorms my sophomore year, but I knew if I did that, I’d spend my money on day-to-day things, whereas if I lived at home, Mom and Dad would cover those items.

  I don’t want to spend money. I want to save as much as I can, especially since Isaiah works almost twenty-four/seven to help with our dream. It only seems fair for me to make sacrifices, as well. Not that living in a mansion with maids and a kitchen staff is a sacrifice, but I am hungry for independence. My mom and dad, even though I love them and we have come to awesome understandings with each other, often forget I’m in my twenties and not twelve. At least once a month I feel so smothered that I scream into my pillow at night.

  My parents are financially well-off and have offered to buy the land and build the shop for us, even telling us to consider it a loan if the idea of taking the money from them bothers us. But Isaiah and I both know that if Dad is involved, even though he means well, he’ll feel entitled to have a say in our business—and that’s not what we want. This road is a lot longer and harder than I thought it would be, but I keep reminding myself it will be worth it in the end.

  Nina rearranges flowers in a vase at the counter and the sunlight catches her diamond ring again. Isaiah and I are practically engaged, but there’s no ring on my finger, nor has he dropped down on one knee. Getting married is part of The Plan, once we have enough money to build the garage, but I often consider asking for a renegotiation on.

  Isaiah and I see each other often, but I’d love to see him more. I’d love to wake up in his arms every morning, instead of a couple of times a week. Instead of having a routine for me and a routine for him, we would have a routine for us. I’m ready for more, but how do I tell Isaiah?

  Nina keeps fidgeting with the flowers, even ones she’s messed with several times before. I’m not best friends with Nina, but we’ve spent enough time together since Isaiah discovered the McKinleys are his blood family that I know when she’s nervous.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She sighs heavily as she quits her assault on the poor plants. “Eli won’t be happy, but I think we need your advice on something.”

  I frown. None of that sounds good. “What could I help with?”

  “Follow me.”

  Nina crosses the kitchen and opens the door to the gar
age. I follow her into it and pause in awe at the motorcycle in front of me. It’s not one I’ve seen around the club before, and I have an idea of where this is headed. “Whose is it?”

  “You have three good guesses and the first two don’t count.”

  Isaiah—the motorcycle is for Isaiah. Wow.

  “Do you think Isaiah will like it?” Nina asks me. She’s a mixture of worry, excitement and hesitation. “We know he’s into cars, but he’s a McKinley so bikes have to be in his blood somewhere. Plus, Eli and Cyrus really want Isaiah to have his father’s bike.”

  “I thought Chevy had their father’s motorcycle,” I say.

  “He does. James had two motorcycles. Chevy has the one his father rode, and Eli had the other. James found this one in a junk yard and was fixing it up before he died. Eli finished the job, and now Eli wants Isaiah to have it.”

  Chevy and Isaiah are half-brothers, though neither knew the other existed until relatively recently. Since then, Isaiah has been slowly—slowly as in snails move faster than him—allowing them to be a part of his life.

  On the other hand, whenever Isaiah’s in town, the McKinleys and the Reign of Terror Motorcycle Club follow him around like cats waiting on their food bowl. If they had their way, even though he was nineteen when they met, they would have packed him up and moved him into one of the rooms at the clubhouse or Cyrus’s house in a heartbeat.

  But besides a relationship with me, Isaiah doesn’t jump headfirst into things. Especially with people who say they’re family. Because of Isaiah’s past, he doesn’t love or trust easily. His weariness, though, hasn’t shut out the McKinleys. They’re patient—admirably so.

  I round the Harley-Davidson while playing with the ends of my blond hair. Having been around the Reign of Terror, I’ve learned some about bikes. “This is a FLSTF Fat Boy. V2 engine, 5-speed gearbox.” It’s silver, with a shine like it has been well loved, and I have no idea how Isaiah is going to react.

  “Spoken like a true member of the club.”

  I smile at the compliment. The club would love for Isaiah to become a member, but he’s not interested. It’s nothing against them, it’s just that he prefers the family connection he has with the McKinleys over the idea of membership. But that doesn’t stop the wives of the club members from trying to talk to me about it, as if I could or would want to change Isaiah’s mind.

  Isaiah’s over at Hook’s, working on Violet’s Chevelle. The car has sentimental value to her, and she only allows Isaiah to work on it when there are problems. After that, there’s a long list of men at the clubhouse who have asked Isaiah to look at their cars, even offering to pay.

  Isaiah always agrees because he loves cars, but I often wonder if he sees the real intent—that the only time he loosens up with Eli, Cyrus, Pigpen, Oz, Razor, Chevy, or anyone from the club is when he has a tool in his hand and an open car hood. To keep him talking, to keep him relaxed, to hopefully keep him a part of their world, they will possibly break their cars on purpose.

  “So, what do you think?” Nina pushes. “About the motorcycle?”

  I think she’s smart to show me the bike first. “I think he’ll like it.” I let my fingers slip along the chrome handlebars.

  “I hear a but in there.” Nina twists strands of her long dark hair.

  How do I explain? Isaiah isn’t the type to get outwardly excited about much. He feels joy and happiness, but he tempers his reactions. And sometimes when he feels overwhelmed with joy he retreats, just a little, enough for him to quietly reflect upon and explore the emotions that he never allowed himself to feel growing up. “When is Eli going to give it to him?”

  “That’s why I’m talking to you. When any of the other boys received their motorcycles, even if they were just the frames for them to restore, it was given during one of the club parties, so everyone could take part. Eli respects how private Isaiah can be and he’s not sure giving him this at the party is the best way. At the same time, Eli wants Isaiah to feel part of the family, so he doesn’t want him to feel excluded by doing something different.”

  I marvel at the way the McKinleys love Isaiah. “He wouldn’t want any of you walking on eggshells for him. I know he’s not always talkative, but he does care.”

  “This gift means a lot to Eli and…”

  “He wants it to mean something to Isaiah,” I finish for her.

  “They all do. I’ve tried explaining to them that Isaiah doesn’t have the same connection to James that they do. Isaiah doesn’t remember James. He didn’t even know who his father was until he was practically a man himself. It’s a miracle Isaiah has let us into his life, but that doesn’t mean he should have any sentimentality when it comes to his father and this bike.”

  Nina’s talking to me because she’s in love with Eli and doesn’t want to see him crushed—which might happen if Isaiah doesn’t love this bike the same way he does. Eli, in essence, is handing Isaiah his heart—I guess the way men do with each other. “It’ll mean something to Isaiah.” Maybe not the way they think, but it will.

  I nibble on my bottom lip and consider the multiple feelings at risk and the multiple ways this could possibly play out. “Eli really wants Isaiah to receive the bike in front of everyone, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll prepare Isaiah, and I promise Eli won’t know that I did.”

  She sags with relief. “Thank you, Rachel.”

  I’m glad to help Nina, and I’m honored that she feels comfortable with me to talk about something so emotional. But while a small sliver of me is helping because I care for her and Eli, I’m really doing this to help the man I love.

  Chapter 38

  Isaiah

  Sitting on a stool at the bar in the clubhouse of the Reign of Terror MC, I watch Rachel as she plays with Pigpen and Caroline’s daughter Adelaide. She looks comfortable with the eight-month-old, as if sitting on the floor on a blanket playing with a rubber duck is a happy place she never knew existed. Adelaide appears just as happy. She cackles as Rachel causes the duck to skip over Adelaide’s arm.

  Most days I still marvel that a blonde, blue-eyed angel wants to be with a tattooed, earring-wearing punk like me. As if she can hear my thoughts, Rachel glances at me and winks.

  She loves me, and I love her. Miracles do happen.

  “What’s happening?” my brother Chevy asks as he slips up beside me. We share a strong hug that includes pats on the back.

  “Nothing,” I reply. “You?”

  “Same as always.”

  We release each other, and he nods at Rachel. “She’s a natural with kids.”

  “Rachel’s great,” I say. At everything. I never thought much about Rachel with babies, but she is good with them. Better than good—she’s great. Rachel’s just naturally good with people. There’s no reason babies wouldn’t be included in the mix.

  Rachel and babies. Rachel as a mom. Rachel the mom to my children. My heart warms at the idea, and I take a drink from the bottle I’m holding to keep any reaction off my face.

  We have a plan though.

  The Plan.

  Five more years until we own our company and can start our life together.

  Five years.

  That sounds forever away.

  Rachel glances my way, and seeing the smile that brightens her face is like watching the sun rise in a clear blue sky. I smile back, not caring that anyone can see how ridiculously happy I am when she looks at me.

  “Can we talk?” Chevy asks, his voice pitched low.

  This ought to be interesting. “What’s going on?”

  Chevy scans the room. Besides us, the clubhouse is relatively empty. Razor had just pulled in, and most everyone followed him and Breanna into Cyrus’s cabin. I’m looking forward to catching up with them, but I figure that will happen later, like it always does at these parties. A few hours in, Rachel, Oz, Emily, Razor, Breanna, Chevy, Violet, Stone and I end up at the picnic table outside shooting the breeze.

  “Oz wan
ts to propose to Emily tonight.”

  Seems like everyone is on this—everyone but Emily. “Sounds good.”

  “Yeah, but Oz got himself into some trouble. I don’t think Emily wants to remember the night they got engaged as the night Eli killed Oz.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Eli’s motorcycle, paint and Adelaide—that type of trouble.”

  Any situation with the combination of those three is damn funny—at least from the safe

  side of the situation. “And?”

  “Do you know how to paint a motorcycle?”

  I chuckle. There’s never a dull moment in this place—never.

  Chapter 39

  Emily

  Razor and Chevy kidnapped me from the driver’s seat of my car and won’t stop hugging me. It’s not really hugging as much as it’s a game of them passing me back and forth between them without my feet ever touching the ground, as if I weigh nothing. I’m laughing so hard that there are tears in my eyes and my sides hurt, and each time I try to slip from their grasp, it seems there’s another Reign of Terror member waiting to capture me in a bear hug, then pass me back to the duo of doom.

  “Put me down!” I say between breaths.

  “Nope,” Pigpen says, as he’s the next one to lift me from my feet and shake me from side to side. “This is what happens when you stay away too long.”

  “I…” I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe. “I had papers and finals. And this is no fair, Razor’s been gone longer than me.”

  “Yeah,” Pigpen says. “But he’s not as fun to hug.”

  Pigpen shifts me to the right, and when I’m about to scream because I’m not sure I can handle being handed off to someone else, I find myself wrapped tight in strong arms along with a delicious kiss to my neck. My heart skips several beats as I inhale Oz’s scent and I melt into him.