Until Easton

by Sandy Alvarez

  I rub the back of my neck. "Are you flirting with me, Nora?" I tease, and her eyes twinkle with amusement.

  "Is it working?" she teases back, and I chuckle. The seatbelt lights come on, and the pilot announces our descent.

  "I've thoroughly enjoyed our time together," I confess.

  "As have I. I've had the pleasure of meeting many people over the years." She leans in close to me and whispers, "Even a few rockstars such as yourself."

  "You know who I am?" I raise my brow.

  "I have grandchildren, dear. Five granddaughters, to be exact. I've seen your face on a poster or two." She smirks.

  "Why didn't you call me out when I gave you a fake name?" I ask.

  "You don't get to be this old by minding other people's business besides your own, dear. You have your reasons for keeping a low profile."

  I find Nora refreshing. "I appreciate your discretion." I lean back in my seat and let out a heavy sigh. "It's not always easy flying under the radar. Coming out here to see family every chance I get and being with people who treat me like a person and not a commodity keeps me grounded."

  Nora pats my hand. "As my husband Orson always said, 'Family roots us.'"

  Before I can stop the thought from passing over my lips, I ask, "And what did he say about love?"

  "When you find love, you have everything."

  I let her husband's words sink in. "Orson was a smart man."

  "Yes—" she pauses, and her eyes become misty. "He was." I feel her studying me for a moment before she says, "Be patient, child. The right one will come along. A life well-lived is filled with many chapters. True love sometimes takes time to find us. And all the best love stories are written that way."

  * * *

  I spend the forty-minute drive from the airport to Polson in silence. No radio. No phone. Just my thoughts and the road. I think about the words Nora spoke about love—about life in general. I've thought about where my road will eventually lead me many times. Perhaps love and family aren't in the cards for me. I get this uneasy feeling that settles over me at the thought of living the rest of my life without experiencing that once-in-a-lifetime happiness. Unlike my sister who, a few years ago, met and married the love of her life, Quinn, who is the Sergeant At Arms for Kings of Retribution MC. It's crazy; I know. My sister, a doctor who came from suburbia, went and married a biker. Like they say, opposites attract. All that matters is she is the happiest I have ever seen her and Quinn treats her like a queen.

  * * *

  I shake the cobwebs of tomorrow from my head and turn onto the road leading to Quinn and Emerson's home. I slow when the house comes into view, and my mood instantly lifts.

  Parking, I get out of the car and grab my only luggage from the backseat, along with a bag full of wrapped gifts for my niece. Before I step foot on the porch, the front door swings open, and Emerson smiles at me. "Easton!" She rushes toward me, throwing her arms around my waist. "I haven't heard from you in more than a week. I was worried you wouldn't be able to make it."

  "Nothing was keeping from my niece's birthday," I tell her and look around. "I noticed Mom and Dad haven't arrived yet."

  "They should be here soon." She guides me inside. "Come on. You can ride with me out to the clubhouse. Quinn is there now with the rest of the club getting everything set up."

  "Uncle E!" My niece Lydia comes running toward me at her full speed, wearing a white shirt with the words Birthday Girl written in black glitter and a pink skirt paired with combat boots. I grin at her attire. She looks so much like her mom.

  I drop what's in my hands and scoop her into my arms. "Happy birthday, bug!" I tickle her ribs, causing her to giggle. Lydia squishes my face in her hands and kisses my cheek.

  "I get cake." She beams, and I laugh.

  "You're so much like your daddy. All you think about is food." Emerson tickles her daughter just before I sit her back on her feet. My sister looks at the time. "Shit, we need to get going."

  "What about the parental units?" Emerson rolls her eyes because she hates when I use that term.

  "Mom and Dad are meeting us at the clubhouse. If we get in gear, we should make it about the time they do."

  I clap my hand. "Alright. Put me to work, boss."

  * * *

  A short time later, we're led through the gated entrance of the Kings' clubhouse. It looks like everyone has arrived, including our parents. Knowing they are here doesn't make me moody like it would have a year ago, mainly because their view on my choice of occupation and lifestyle has dramatically improved. I’m not saying our relationship isn't without flaws. We still have a long way to go before fixing years of hurt and disappointment on both sides, but at least we are working on it.

  Traveling the world, playing music, living on the road isn't what my parents wanted. For the longest time, I strived to become what they desired me to be and follow in their footsteps. I was a straight-A student throughout all my years of schooling. I graduated top of my class. Even earned academic scholarships to top-tier universities. I did everything my parents expected of me—until I dropped out of medical school to pursue music full time. Who does that anyway? Who drops out of medical school? Me. I just couldn't fake it anymore. I couldn't chase a dream that wasn't mine. Unfortunately, in the process, my choices created tension between my parents and me. To them, I was throwing my life away. To me—I was just starting to live it. I park the truck and climb out.

  "Look what the cat dragged in." Quinn is the first to greet me as Emerson and I walk into the backyard. I glance around, taking notice of the bounce house, waterslide, and a white horse not far off wearing a unicorn horn on its head.

  "You've outdone yourself," I tell him.

  "I can't wait until she gets a little older. That's when I can really spoil the shit out of her," Quinn states.

  "You already spoil her too much." Emerson kisses her husband.

  "It's good to see you, brother." Quinn claps my shoulder. I spot my parents walking towards us. "Come on, babe. Let's get the birthday girl something to eat." Quinn takes his daughter from Emerson and places her on his shoulders. "Got a cold beer waiting for ya when you're ready."

  "Thanks. I may need it," I tell him, then my sister gives me an encouraging smile before they stroll away.

  "I'm so glad you made it." My mom opens her arms to hug me, and I embrace her. She pulls back. "You look tired."

  "A little."

  "Good to see you, son," my dad says.

  "You too."

  A moment of silence hangs between us.

  "You put on one hell of a show last night," my dad breaks the silence.

  "Catch some highlights someone posted online or from the news? Is that the only way you can support me?" My voice sounds bitter because I am.

  "We were there, sweetie," my mom adds, and her admission surprises me. All I can do is stare. "We've been to three of the concerts on this tour."

  "And you're just now telling me this?" I look from her to my dad.

  "We didn't want to say anything because we didn't want the knowledge of our presence to bother you in any way," Mom confesses, and I suddenly feel regret for the attitude before. There was a time when I didn't speak to my parents at all and it took them almost losing their relationship with Emerson, as well, for them to open their eyes and finally accept their children for who they are.

  "Easton." My dad grabs my attention, and I look at him. "I realize I haven't said this in a very long time, but I'm proud of you."

  I never realized three simple words spoken by my father could hit as hard as they are right now. I swallow hard past the lump of emotions clogging my throat.

  "Thanks, dad."

  "We love you, sweetie."

  "I love you guys too."

  * * *

  Night has fallen, and the younger kids are starting to pass out from exhaustion. I sit back in my lawn chair and knock back the rest of my beer. I'm the most relaxed I've been in weeks. I look around at my family, thankful to have them i
n my life. My parents are missing. They went back to Emerson's place more than an hour ago for Dad to do a conference call with his chief of staff back home. He's on the budget committee this year and is hoping to get some much-needed equipment approved for the hospital's children's wing.

  "What are you thinking so hard about over there?" Jake, the club president, asks.

  "Damn," I scrub my palm down my face. "Everything."

  "What are your plans now that the tour is over?" Reid reaches for another beer chilling in the cooler next to him.

  "Going on hiatus for a while, or until things settle down." I want to kick myself in the ass for the last part of what I said. My eyes cut to Emerson, who cocks her head and glares—giving me that you're hiding something expression.

  "Alright, what are you hiding?" she asks.

  "Nothing."

  "Liar." My sister folds her arms, and her foot gets to fidgeting.

  She isn't going to let this go. I sigh. "I'm leaving Nashville for a couple of weeks while Miles and a friend investigate a minor issue with an overzealous fan." I try to word it in a way that makes it sound less than it is.

  "What do you mean? Is someone stalking you or something?" Emerson moves to the edge of her seat.

  "Calm down. I'm dealing with it," I reassure her.

  "How serious is the situation?" Logan, the Kings' VP asks.

  Well, I'm in it now, so I might as well give them the rundown. Over the next few minutes, I explain all the letters, and more importantly, the most recent one, which has me running to some small town I've never been to before.

  "So, this Connelly Ranch is where you plan on staying for a while?" Emerson says while holding her sleeping daughter.

  "That's the plan. Jax and his men are good people. He's right there to keep me informed on whatever he finds out, and I get to have peace and quiet. And believe me, I need this break. I'm running on empty," I explain.

  "You could have stayed here, with me—with your family," Emerson says.

  "I know, but the last thing I want is to drag my family into the middle of a situation that could bring unwanted stress."

  "East. We are more than capable of dealing with undesirable people and situations." My sister points to all the men.

  "Let the man be, woman. If he says he can handle his own shit, let him," Quinn tells my sister.

  Emerson sighs. "Fine. But if this bitch tries to hurt you, I'll fuck her up. I know how to hide a body." I chuckle, believing every word she says. "And you better call me every week to keep me from losing my mind with worry, or I'll kick your ass."

  I love my family.

  4

  BECCA

  "Hey, Becca." Steve pops his head into the barn. I shift and wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.

  "What's up?" I ask.

  "Arthur wants me to run into town and get some more chicken feed. Is there anything else I should pick up?"

  "Yeah, Pogo somehow got through the fence this morning, and I need to fix it." Pogo is one of our goats, and the little shit keeps escaping the pen.

  Steve chuckles. "I'll pick up some PVC pipes and line the top of the fence. That should keep him in."

  "Let's hope so, but I'm not holding my breath." I laugh. "Thanks, Steve."

  Steve tips the brim of his hat and disappears out of the barn. I turn back to the task at hand, which is mucking Blue's stall. "You know," I say, as I prop my hand on my hip and regard Blue, who is happily standing in the corner of her stall while munching on some feed. "It's a beautiful day. You should be out in the pasture with the others instead of in here stuffing your face." My statement earns me a headshake. I swear the horse knows what I'm saying. "Suit yourself." Out of the twelve horses we have here at Connelly Ranch, Blue is my favorite. She's also been here the longest.

  She came to us nearly fifteen years ago. My grandfather had bought her off some guy in Mississippi who was going to put her down. There’d been a raid on a guy's property who had been reported for animal cruelty. Blue was one of three severely malnourished horses to have been rescued. Sadly, the other two didn't make it, and if it hadn’t been for my grandfather seeing something in Blue worth saving, she wouldn't be here today.

  I'll never forget the day she arrived on the ranch. Blue was nothing but skin and bones. Her hooves had been so neglected, they had begun to curl. I'll never understand how someone who wants to own animals does not want to take care of them. I mean, why have them in the first place? Looking over at Blue, I smile. Even after all she's been through, she still turned out to be one of the most beautiful and gentle creatures. Propping the shovel against the stall, I walk over to her. As soon as I'm within reach, Blue nudges my shoulder. "I bet I know what you want, pretty girl." Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve the carrot sticks I stuck in there before coming out. I hold out the treats, and she eagerly takes them from my palm. "Sweet girl." I kiss her muzzle.

  "Becca! Are you there?" I hear my grandfather calling out my name. I turn and step out of the stall. "Yes, Sir!" I call back, making my way out of the barn. When I step out, I'm surprised to see Jax Mayson's truck pulling up in front of the house. "Everything alright, Daideò? What's Jax Mayson doing here?" I don't know what would bring Jax by. He's with Ellie and comes into the salon sometimes, but other than a few hellos here and there, we don't really know each other. My grandfather is more acquainted with the Mayson family because he knows Jax's parents.

  "Everything is fine," Grandpa assures me. "Jax called me this morning, and he needs some help. I told him to talk with you as well before I say yes."

  I scrunch my brows. "Okay." Still confused, I continue to make my way up the hill toward the house with my grandfather at my side. Pete, my Golden Retriever, lets out a playful bark and runs up to Jax as soon as he steps out of his truck. "Pete, down."

  Jax just smiles and gives Pete a rub down. "No worries," Jax says, giving Pete one last pat. He then offers my grandfather his hand. "Good to see you, Arthur."

  "You too, son."

  "How ya doing, Becca?"

  "I'm doing okay, Jax. What brings you by?" I jump in, not beating around the bush.

  Jax takes his ball cap off, runs his hand through his hair then places his hat back on. "I have a bit of a situation and am in need of some help."

  I study him for a beat. "Sure. Why don't you come up to the porch, and I'll get us something cold to drink? A beer, okay?"

  Jax smiles. "A beer would be great. Thanks."

  Nodding, I look to my grandfather. "You want a beer, Daideò?"

  "Have you ever known me to turn down a cold one?" Grandpa smirks.

  I grin back at him. "No, Sir." Shaking my head, I make my way up to the porch with Jax and Grandpa following behind. Dashing inside, I grab a few longnecks from the refrigerator and head back out on the porch. Handing the drinks, I sit down in the chair beside my grandfather and wait for Jax to speak. He takes a long pull of his beer then lays out why he's here. "I have a friend; his name is Easton, and he's in a bit of trouble."

  "What kind of trouble?" I ask.

  "For you two to fully understand the kind of trouble he's facing, I have to tell you exactly who he is. But I need this information to not leave this porch."

  My grandfather and I eye each other, and by the tone of Jax's voice, whatever situation he needs our help with, it's more than just a favor.

  "Go ahead, son. You have our word that what's said won't go any further than us," my grandfather assures, and I nod.

  Jax sighs. "My friend is Easton Evans."

  Jax looks at me like he's waiting for the name to mean something to me. It only takes about five seconds for it to sink in. I hold my hand up. "Um…are you referring to The Easton Evans? As in East of Addiction?"

  "That would be the one," Jax confirms.

  "Who is this Easton fella you two are going on about, and what kind of addiction does he have? I don't want no drugs in my house if this Easton guy stays here," my grandfather grumbles. Both Jax and I burst out laughin
g.

  "Daideò, Easton is a singer. His band name is East of Addiction."

  "There won't be any drugs involved, Mr. Connelly. You have my word." Jax chuckles.

  "Oh, well…alright then." My grandfather continues to look at us skeptically, but Jax continues.

  "As I was saying, Easton is in a bit of trouble. I went to head up security at his concert over the weekend up in Nashville, and his manager informed me he's been getting some threatening letters."

  "Like a stalker?" I ask.

  Jax nods. "His manager, Miles, thinks so. Sometimes there are just letters and sometimes gifts."

  Grandpa jumps in. "Letters and gifts don't sound so bad."

  "No." Jax shakes his head. "But death threats and signs of a mentally unstable person are."

  "Oh, god," I gasp. "So, where do we come in?"

  "Ellie and I suggested that Easton lay low here. He just wrapped up his tour, and his manager thinks it's best he disappears for a while until they can find who's been harassing him."

  "Does he not have anywhere else to go? Family?"

  "He has a sister in Montana. He didn't go into detail, but I don't get the feeling he's close with his parents. Easton mentioned going to Montana for a few days for his niece's birthday but was adamant about not staying and possibly bringing harm to them. It's public information that he has a sister."

  "What about bringing the trouble here?"

  Jax gives me a tight nod. "I understand your concerns. Trust me, I wouldn't ask this if I didn't think you'd be safe. Nobody will know he's here except us three and his manager. He's not even allowed to tell his sister, though, if he does, that's on him. As far as anyone knows, he is taking this time to travel. That's the statement that the press will receive."

  I stare down at my lap while mulling over the information Jax just fed us.

  "Becca." My grandpa regards me. I look at him, already knowing his answer. My grandfather would give anyone the shirt off his back if they needed it. I look at Jax. "Will it be just Easton staying here? And not his bandmates or a girlfriend?"