The Boy I Grew Up With

by Tijan

  I saw it in his eyes.

  “You heard?” If he had, he’d know what I was talking about.

  A second slow nod. He seemed to be working hard not to alarm me. “I did.”

  I studied him.

  I rethought everything in a flash.

  I’d let Richter get away with threatening me once. This second time, I couldn’t. I had to fight, or Richter would’ve gotten worse. A line needed to be drawn.

  Traverse scratched his cheek. “Richter underestimated you today. He won’t again.”

  “And you?” I waited.

  “I didn’t agree with him.”

  “Way I figure it, you’re either here for a planned second attack, or…” I watched him. He didn’t bat an eyelash. “Or you’re here because you’re ready for a change in leadership.”

  Now he blinked.

  That was it.

  “You want to be the new leader for the Demons?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation, once again. He never looked away from me. “And today was the day that started.” He motioned outside. “Maybe we can talk out there?”

  I ran a hand over my face, feeling the blood drying. “Give me a minute. I should wash up.”

  I went over to Moose and Congo. “Go find that con man. Deliver him to that Peter at his hotel. And call Chad. I want him back in town.”

  Both nodded and turned to leave.

  I went to clean Richter’s blood from my face.

  18

  Heather

  Sixth grade

  I wanted to bash Tate Sullivan’s head in with the bat my brother had gotten for his last birthday.

  She was flirting with Channing, pushing the new boobies she’d just grown into his face and tugging her shorts down, helping him see her pink lacy underwear. I watched all this from the porch at our house. Dad was adding on to Manny’s, so a lot of my friends came over to hang out.

  Free food and soda—it was quite the draw for sixth graders. Or actually, I was the only sixth grader here. Tate had always been a year older, and now Channing was a grade above me too.

  Traitors.

  Tate had talked last night about working at Manny’s one day.

  One day, my ass.

  I daydreamed about my attack—how her blood would splatter and I’d wipe it off with my shirt. I’d drop the bat. Channing would be dumbfounded, and I’d walk away without saying a word.

  The wood behind me groaned from someone’s weight, and I straightened, the malice wiped clean from my face. I was the image of innocence and purity when I looked up to smile.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  His eyes narrowed on me, his mouth twitching. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, but only grunted. “Mmm-hmmm.” He stepped out and took the seat next to me. Looking toward the alley in front of us, he nodded. “I see.”

  I groaned inwardly. He knew. I knew he knew, but I still played dumb. This was embarrassing.

  “What?” I tried to flutter my eyelashes, but fuck—forget it. I couldn’t go the whole nine yards. Faking wasn’t in my repertoire. (And go me—I aced our last vocabulary quiz.)

  “You know what?” He brought out some peanuts and started taking off their shells. He indicated Channing and Tate. “Ain’t that your boy and bestie?”

  There he went, showing off that he knew the term bestie.

  He tossed the shell and stuck the peanut into his mouth. “Hmm?”

  I already knew where this was going.

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s not my ‘boy,’ and she’s a friend. She’s not my best friend.”

  “Weren’t you calling her your best friend last night?”

  Oh. Right. We’d had a sleepover. And we’d sung “You’re My Best Friend” by Queen at the top of our lungs. That didn’t mean anything, except, well…maybe I’d thought she was. At the time.

  I grumbled, scooting lower on my chair. “We were singing a song, Dad. Jeez.”

  He laughed. “Ah. Yes. Still…” He chucked another shell and tapped my shoulder. “I’m going to just say, you got your mom’s looks—not her penchant for leaving, but you look as stunning as she did, and I know you’ll keep getting more beautiful. So if you decide you want that boy, I know you can get him.” He gestured to Channing before grabbing for another peanut. “And if you decide you want a different boy, I’ve no doubt you’ll get him instead. It ain’t even about your looks, Heather. It’s about what’s in here.” He pointed to his heart. “And here.” He moved to his head. “You’ve got both of those. Boys will be attracted to you because of what’s on the outside, but they’ll stick around and fall in love because of what’s inside. And that boy.” He nodded toward Channing again, popping the peanut into his mouth. “I can tell you that boy had been coming around here long before she got those.”

  “Ew, Dad!”

  Even he noticed Tate’s new boobs.

  I groaned. “Do you have to point ’em out?”

  He chuckled. “I’m trying to tell you that you don’t need those. Monroe can be a punk sometimes, but if you’re worried about how he feels about you, you don’t need to be.” His mouth pressed in a disapproving line after that, as if he tasted something foul. A second later, he huffed, “And if you ever want to move to a school in Fallen Crest, you say the word. I’ll have you transferred in half a day.”

  I’d been going to Roussou all my life. Brandon had switched over a year ago, and he was loving Fallen Crest, but not me. My friends were in Roussou.

  And with that last thought, my stomach dropped to my feet.

  The jig was up. I had to admit I liked the guy—like, in the official crush way, and I hated it.

  God.

  Boys suck.

  “Channing!” Tate squealed, grabbing his bike and pushing off on it, speeding away.

  The girl wanted to be chased.

  I glowered, just knowing he’d grab her bike and head after her, but he didn’t. He watched her go, chuckled, and turned to me.

  “She’s gone. Finally,” he hollered. “Now we can hang out!”

  Okay. Maybe not all boys sucked…not a hundred percent of the time.

  I stood up to go, but my dad said, “Heather.”

  I went still. He’d been slightly amused before, but this was a different dad. His gaze was solemn; his eyes had bags under them. His mouth turned down at the corners. He seemed to shrink in his seat.

  Oh no.

  “I came out to tell you something.”

  I didn’t want to hear it. I turned away, locking eyes with Channing. He stepped toward me, seeing my distress. “Heather?”

  I heard my dad sigh, and it sounded so sad, so tired, so beaten down.

  “Your mother’s coming back home,” he said.

  I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to hear it. She left once. Who was she to come back? Without responding, I went down the porch steps. I couldn’t feel my legs. I couldn’t see Channing as I walked to him, but I must’ve. He touched my arm and lowered his voice, “What’s wrong?”

  Nothing.

  Nothing was happening.

  “Let’s play,” I grated out.

  19

  Heather

  Present day

  He was coming tonight.

  I hadn’t seen Channing for the last few days—minus a brief moment when he’d come over to Manny’s to help contain a crew brawl Bren had started. Well, some guy’s hand on her shoulder had started it. She took offense, and we were kicking everyone out a few minutes later. The cops had come, the crews split, and over the last week, I’d had to deal with repairing the damage they did to my restaurant.

  I was shocked I hadn’t started smoking again.

  I was not a happy camper, but Channing’s guys helped speed up the repair process, and now it was Saturday again. We were re-opening, but I was on edge.

  Channing texted me to say he was fine after I left him at the gas station, but he’d said he would be scarce for a while. He hadn’t lied.

  Besides my temper, I was nursing a hard-on for him. I
wondered how many different types of strangulation there were, because he was coming tonight, and that’s what I wanted to do to him. I felt it. It'd been too long for us.

  Fight or have sex. That's what he said we did, so when he showed up, I was going to fuck him, start a fight, and then end it all by killing him.

  I had it all planned out.

  “You're on edge.”

  I whirled around to find Brandon. “I'm not on edge.”

  I was, and it seemed like everyone was aware of it. Even the customers looked over. We had a party of forty and fifty year olds drinking in the back. They'd been laughing and loud most of the night, but they quieted now.

  I swear I saw understanding pass through their group, and a second later, one waved, her underarm fat jiggling as she did. “You go, girl. Ain’t no man worth the stress.”

  I winced.

  Her friend guffawed. “Except if his name is Channing Monroe. That guy is fiiiine.”

  Their whole table broke out in laughter. The first tried to silence it, but another said something else and her margarita snorted out her nose.

  They were gone. Off to the land of the buzzed.

  I sighed, ignoring my brother's sympathy, and whacked him in the arm.

  “Ouch.” He rubbed his biceps.

  I motioned toward the ladies. “Call Roy. I don't want any of them driving.”

  “On it.”

  Roy was our local Uber driver. Chances were high he'd end up parked in our lot anyway. He was smart. He was also seventeen, skinny, and had a face still working its way through puberty, complete with acne and shaggy eyebrows. He had a penchant for blushing anytime a girl smiled at him.

  The ladies would love him.

  As if proving my point, one of them called out, “Come over here, Brandon. We’ve got a warm bosom to comfort you with. We're feeling frisky.”

  More hooting and lewd suggestions followed. My brother actually seemed a little terrified.

  I nudged him with my elbow. “Could be worse. Rebecca could still be lurking around.”

  He shuddered.

  His stalker had stuck around for a week—until she’d gotten a punch to the face during the crew brawl. When she’d mentioned a lawsuit, I reminded her she’d broken in, trespassed, and threatened someone in my home not long ago.

  She went away after that, and Brandon was beyond ecstatic.

  For some reason, he hadn't thought he would be able to shake her.

  “Heather.” Our night manager came up behind me. “I called in more staff for the next shift. We’ve got a few coming to help cover till then too.”

  Manny’s was beyond full, even the outside was at capacity, and there was a line snaking into the parking lot.

  “Good.”

  Ava walked past us, her shoulders sagging. She looked exhausted.

  “Did Ava open today?”

  “She came in at eleven.”

  It was three in the afternoon. She shouldn’t have been as tired as she looked.

  “I’m going to send her home. She’s sick.”

  Cruz glanced at me, his eyebrows raised. “Two girls called in already. You sure?”

  I nodded. “I’ll take her place. She’s going to fall over.” I gave him a hard look. “Figure out what’s going on with her.”

  He nodded. He didn’t salute me or clip his heels together, but that was the effect of his response. I gave an order, and he’d fulfill it.

  Ava was stubborn and proud. If she could walk, she came in, but she’d been struggling lately. She’d lost some weight. I didn’t want to make any assumptions, but I wanted to know what was going on with her—if it was her health, if she was trying to lose weight for school, if she was up late at night with a guy… Who knew, but I couldn’t have a waitress fainting on her shift.

  Cruz would get to the root of the problem, and until then, I watched as he went over to tell her to go home.

  She’d been waiting at the counter for an order, and she straightened up as he spoke. Her eyebrows pulled tight and angry eyes looked at me. She shook her head, starting to protest.

  I went over, touched her arm. “You can keep the tips, but you have to go.”

  “No, Heather. I—”

  Her arm was so tiny. I could wrap my entire hand around it, and I hadn’t been able to do that six months ago. “Go and rest. I’ve got it. We’ll need you tomorrow.”

  Some of the fight had left her when I reassured her about the tips, but now she started crying. “You shouldn’t have to do this.”

  Ava was special. So many waitresses would just take off, taking advantage of their boss’s kindness, but Ava wouldn’t, and that’s why I’d offered it for her.

  “Go, Ava. I’ve got this. Your shift was only till six anyway.”

  “I know, but…” She sighed, taking off her waitressing apron. She handed it over. “Table One needs their drinks refilled. I’m waiting for Two’s food right now. Three is picky, so always have something extra to refill every time you pass them…” She filled me in on the rest until I shooed her out the door, Table Two’s food in my arms.

  “Go. I mean it.”

  She nodded, her head bent. “Thank you, Heather.”

  I nudged her arm. “Rest tonight. No going out.”

  “I know.” She looked back up, determined, and for some reason, I felt she would be better tomorrow.

  A few hours later, Cruz filled me in, whispering in my ear as I refilled a table’s soft drinks. “I just got off the phone with her mother. Ava’s got a new boyfriend, and apparently, he’s not the nicest to her.”

  Asshole. I didn’t know who he was, but if he was the reason for her dwindling weight, I already didn’t like him.

  “Got it. Thank you.”

  “We can run interference if he shows up, but Candy just got here to take over for you.” He looked behind me. His voice lowered, “And just in time, it looks like.”

  I didn’t need to turn. My body was in tune with Channing, and I felt him. He’d just walked in, opening the door for a group of teen girls. They paused to thank him and erupted in giggles and blushes as they scurried away.

  A cocky smirk came over his face, but it faded quickly as he looked for me. He wore a simple shirt over his jeans. It molded over him like his clothes always did, highlighting his broad shoulders and showing the beginning of his chest muscles before falling loosely over his firm stomach.

  My damned mouth started watering, which pissed me off, because was I always going to need him like this? It never lessened. It had only gotten worse each year.

  “Have a smoke break,” I told Candy as she approached. “I’ll cover you.”

  She frowned. “I already did. Cruz said to take over for you.”

  My hands tightened around the glasses. I hadn’t felt the soda as it overflowed. I turned my back to Channing, feeling the exact moment his gaze found me. I felt zapped by him as I filled Candy in on the tables I still had open. My tips were in my apron, and I stuffed them in an envelope. Still ignoring Channing, I put the envelope in Ava’s slot and went to find Cruz.

  I had to step around Channing, who was about to reach out for me.

  “Don’t.” I held up a finger.

  I was suddenly pissed at him, but I wasn’t pissed at just him.

  I was mad that I’d had to leave him at a gas station to stand off against an MC leader. I was mad that he hadn’t told me what happened after that. I was mad that I didn’t want to ask because I didn’t want to know. I was mad that he was in the crew life, and that sometimes it was beyond dangerous. I was mad because he’d formed the crew life to help my friends, and I was mad that I benefited from that life too.

  Mostly I was mad because I wanted him out of that life, and I knew he wouldn’t leave it. He couldn’t leave it.

  He kept Roussou safe, but I wasn’t fully whole unless he was with me.

  And being him, he knew what was rolling through me. “I was protecting you too,” he said softly.

  That was the worst
of it—he’d fought that guy, or whatever he’d done, because he’d interrupted our moment. My presence always added to his response, and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

  Fuck it.

  I grabbed the box of cigarettes Brandon had stashed behind the bar and thumbed the lighter along with it.

  I couldn’t breathe, so I was going to smoke. Totally made sense.

  I burst through the door, already lighting a cigarette, and as soon as it hit my lips, I inhaled so fucking deep that the toxic shit went to my pussy. I needed relaxing, and I needed it now.

  “Heather.”

  Of course he’d come out behind me.

  “Don’t,” I rasped, turning away when I felt him step close to me. “I mean it, Chan.”

  He ignored me, reaching around and plucking the cigarette from my fingers.

  “What?!”

  He dropped it, grinding it out with his foot, and he had the pack and lighter in his hands before I could blink. “No.” He turned his back to me, blocking me out, and then the entire pack of cigarettes was on fire.

  “What are you doing?!”

  He dropped it in the bonfire pit, where it’d be safe to burn, and took my shoulders in his hands.

  Propelling me backward, toward my house, he said sternly, “You stopped smoking for her. You stayed not smoking for her, and I’m not going to be the cause of you going back.”

  My lungs were on fire, but not from the cigarette.

  My eyes burned.

  He hadn’t said her name, but he’d mentioned her, and it was the first time since the night we’d lost her that he’d been the one to do that.

  I felt the porch steps behind me and turned swiftly, leading the way to my house.

  We went through the door, and Channing leaned back against it, crossing his arms. He wasn’t crowding me, because he knew that’s not what I wanted. Now I was the caged animal. He’d unearthed a shitstorm inside of me.

  I shook my head. “You asshole.”