Temper

by Chantal Fernando

  “I can save you from a lot of things, Abbie, but your mom’s questioning, I’m afraid, is not one of them,” he says, amusement laced in his tone. “Just be as honest as you need to be. We have nothing to hide.”

  I throw him a look. “Really? I’ve been kidnapped—by you—I’ve had a gun pointed at me multiple times... I could go on. These are all things I will not be honest about. I’m basically just going to play it like I was on holiday the whole time, finding myself or something like that.”

  Which is partly true.

  I know who I am now more than I’ve ever known before.

  “Valid points,” he agrees. “Just say you had lots of adventures.”

  The second we pull up at my house, my mom runs out the front. I’m barely out of the car before I’m in her arms, and she’s squeezing me tightly.

  “Abbie, you’re home,” she says, smiling. She looks a little healthier than I left her, her cheeks fuller, her brown eyes sharp and filled with a mix of happiness and worry. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” I promise, letting her look over me. “Mom, this is Temper; Temper, this is my mom.”

  I know that they’ve interacted at Franks before, but that’s not the same as properly meeting someone.

  “Nice to officially meet you, ma’am,” Temper says as he walks around to our side, offering her his hand. “I’ve heard lots about you.”

  “Have you now?” Mom replies, giving him a once-over as she shakes his hand. “Why don’t you both come on in, and I’ll make some tea?”

  “Sounds good,” I say, following her inside with Temper at my side.

  “Ivy will be home soon,” Mom says as we sit down on the couch. “She had to go into work, but said she will finish early.”

  “Okay,” I reply. Mom disappears into the kitchen to make the tea, and I catch Temper staring around the room at all of my baby pictures.

  “Man, you were the most adorable baby,” he says, staring at the big picture of me hanging on the wall. I was about one then, with a thick head of hair and wearing a pretty white dress.

  “How do you know that that’s me?” I ask.

  “The eyes, your smile,” he replies, shrugging. “I’d know you anywhere.”

  “That’s a bit cute.”

  “You’re a bit cute,” he says softly, eyes locked on me. “I love this house. I can picture you growing up here.”

  “Mom moved in here when I was a few months old, so it’s the only house I’ve ever known,” I admit.

  I’ve been much luckier than Temper in regards to my childhood, and it’s nice to be able to share that part of me. Having him here, sitting on the worn leather couch I used to play with my dolls on, brings him into my world, and lets him see a different side of me.

  “You drink the tea first, just in case,” he whispers to me, just before Mom steps back into the room.

  Lip twitching, I wait for her to sit down and prepare myself for the questioning that’s about to begin.

  “So how was your trip? I’m still a little confused why you didn’t even come and tell me or Ivy that you were going. You’re not usually the spontaneous type,” she says, pouring the tea for us all.

  “It was a last-minute decision,” I say, shrugging. “I should have told you. I know that, and I’m sorry.”

  Just like you should have told me who my dad was many years ago.

  “Very unlike you,” she murmurs, sliding me and Temper a mug each.

  “Thank you,” he says. “I think it was mostly my fault that she left so sudden. I was going on an adventure, and I asked her if she wanted to come with me. I made it pretty hard to say no.”

  Yeah, very hard, considering I was tied up.

  “I see,” Mom replies, lifting the tea to her lips and blowing the steam. “Well, I’m just glad that she’s home.”

  “You’re looking well,” I say.

  “I feel much better,” she admits. “I’ve been taking the new medication, and to be honest, I feel stronger than I have in a long time.”

  “That’s good.” I smile. “How’s Franks been doing?”

  “Good. Ivy and Sierra have taken on your old shifts, and I’m in the process of hiring another part-time employee. We’ve had steady sales, so can’t complain.” She turns to Temper. “So... Temper, you’re a biker. Is that how you earn your living?”

  And here we go.

  I should have introduced him as Tommy instead of Temper, but I just didn’t think.

  “I own a custom motorcycle shop,” he replies. “So we sell custom bikes, but we can also customize the bikes people already have.”

  “I see,” she replies, dragging out the word.

  I don’t know if she expected him to just say I’m the president of a motorcycle club or what, but she wasn’t going to get it.

  And technically, he’s not lying to her.

  “Well, I appreciate you bringing her back. It’s been a lot of stress without her here—I’ve been worried sick. It was just so out of her character for her to just leave. When I spoke to the police, they said there’s nothing they could do because she’s not a child, and has been in contact and stated she was fine.”

  “You called the police?” I ask, brow furrowing. “Seriously, Mom? I told you I was fine. I called you. I spoke to Ivy almost every day. I left you voice messages. Why would you call the police?”

  “I was concerned,” she says, lifting her chin, her gray-brown hair falling across her cheeks. “I’m your mother. I’m allowed to be concerned when you leave the bar with a random man and then suddenly decide not to come home.”

  “I get that, I do. But I’m also twenty-eight, Mom,” I say gently. “And as you can see, I’m fine. Great, even. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, as a matter of fact.”

  “And I’m guessing this is all because of this man,” she comments, looking at Temper. “First love always hits the hardest. How long are you staying in town?”

  “Just a few days,” he replies. “And then I’ll head back to the city.”

  “Okay.” She nods, glancing between the two of us.

  We make some more small talk, and then Temper brings in my suitcase and goes to check in at the hotel. The second he leaves, just like I had guessed, Mom starts in on me.

  “How old is he, Abbie? I think it’s going to be so good for you when he leaves, and you can go back to your old life. You can return to college now and finish your degree. My health has improved a lot, and you don’t need to worry about me being able to handle everything,” she says, stroking my hair. “I don’t know what you were thinking leaving town with a biker you just met, but I’m going to put it down to you having your little rebellious moment. Ivy had hers when she was younger, but you didn’t, so I guess that’s what this was.”

  “He’s older than me,” I admit. “I do want to go back to college.”

  Just in L.A., not here. I don’t know how I’m going to break this to her, I know that she’s not going to like it. Also there’s the big elephant in the room, which is the whole Palmer thing, which she hasn’t brought up, and neither have I.

  For now.

  Ivy comes home and wraps me in the biggest bear hug. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Me too,” I say, smiling. “Thank you for covering for me and helping out. I owe you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she says, waving her hand. “I think it showed me how much you’d taken on, and I should have been carrying more of that load.”

  “I’m the big sister,” I say.

  “Yeah, but we aren’t kids anymore. I should be helping just as much, and trying to make things easier for you, too. You shouldn’t feel like you need an escape so badly that you disappear in the middle of the night, so I’m sorry.”

  I hug her tighter. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I love you so mu
ch, Ivy. And I brought you presents back.”

  She grins. Mom, watching the whole exchange, makes a tsk tsk sound. “I don’t think that’s why she left, Ivy. I think she got a little infatuated with a certain biker.”

  Ivy and I share a look, and then she drags me to my bedroom and closes the door, demanding I tell her everything. So I start from the beginning, and fill her in.

  Well, almost everything.

  I leave out the dead body.

  * * *

  “Mom, I’m thinking about moving to California to finish school,” I blurt out to her the next morning. There’s no point beating around the bush. She needs to know what I’m thinking, and she needs to be okay with her firstborn finally leaving the nest, something which is long overdue.

  Her eyes well up with tears. “We’re a family, Abbie. You can’t leave. We need you here.”

  “Mom, I’m old enough to move and live on my own and make my own decisions,” I say in a gentle tone. “It’s time for me to leave here. I’ve spoken to Ivy and she’s happy for me. And we will all be visiting each other, and making time for each other. We’re still family no matter what, but L.A. is where I want to be right now, and I need you to support that. I know you worry about me a lot, and you want me to be around always, but I think it’s time for you to let me go and do my own thing. It doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

  She sits there silently, sniffling. “I don’t know, Abbie. I don’t think that this is the best idea for you. You can finish your degree here—you don’t need to move anywhere for a man. Why can’t he move here to be with you if he wants to be with you so badly? Why do you have to make all of the changes?”

  “I want to.” I try to get through to her. “I love it there. I’m done with this small town. I want to be in the city. I’ve made new friends there, and it just feels like where I need to be right now. I know you hate change, but I’ve realized that I don’t. I embrace it.”

  There would be absolutely no point asking Temper to move to this backwards town. I want to escape here, and I don’t know how to get her to understand that without offending her.

  “I love you, Mom, and I love Ivy, and that’s not going to change. Me wanting to move and do my own thing doesn’t mean that I’m going to just forget my family,” I say, keeping my tone calm and gentle.

  I can see her mind working. “When do you plan on leaving?”

  “I don’t know yet, maybe in a week or so? You guys don’t need me at Franks anymore, Mom, you’ve got it all covered. You’re not in bed resting anymore. You’ve sorted yourself out, and I’m so proud of you for doing that. I think me being gone was good for you, too, because you had to become a little more independent without me here looking after you. I just need to pack my stuff, and I’ll enroll in college for next semester.” Finishing my degree will be an absolute dream for me.

  “A week?” she asks, scowling. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Abbie. I’ve been so stressed without you here, and now you’re going to tell me that you’re moving away permanently? I just don’t know how I’m supposed to be happy that my daughter is moving away from me. The crime in L.A. is off the charts—I was watching the news while you were gone, and it’s not a safe city to be in. So many things can go wrong.”

  “So many things can go right, too. I’m living just out of L.A., Mom, so I’m not going to be in the hustle and bustle every day. You’re making it personal, when it’s not,” I say, wishing she would just be happy for me. “I know that you feel anxious, but it’s not fair for you to project that on me.”

  “How is it not personal?” she asks, shaking her head. “You’re leaving us. That’s personal. And I’m taking medication for my anxiety, Abbie. I just don’t want my firstborn child to move away. Surely that’s understandable?”

  “Mom, she’s twenty-eight, not sixteen,” Ivy says, walking down the stairs and catching the end of our conversation. “You can’t guilt trip her into staying here. That’s not fair. She’s old enough to live her life how she wants it; it’s her life, not yours.”

  Thank God for baby sisters.

  “This has nothing to do with you, Ivy. Your sister has changed so much in the time she’s been gone. Imagine if she moves there! We won’t even recognize her when she gets back.”

  Okay, that cut a little.

  “It’s called personal growth, Mom. She’s growing into a better person. Stop trying to hold her back. And this has everything to do with me. I want to see my sister happy, and you should want to see Abbie happy too, even if it’s not with her living under your roof,” Ivy says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m going to go and visit with Abbie, so guess what? Sometimes you’re going to have this place to yourself. Maybe you should take note and live a little, go on a vacation, go on a date, stop being so scared of the world all of the time. Maybe choose a man better than a drug dealer this time, though.”

  And there it is, the elephant I’ve been avoiding, but one apparently Ivy has no problem bringing up as a dig.

  Mom opens her mouth then closes it, looking like a fish. “I’m not scared of the world. And fine, I made a mistake with Abbie’s father, but that’s why I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. I left, because I knew it was best for Abbie, and I didn’t want her growing up around that environment. And now she’s gone and found herself a criminal biker anyway, so she’s basically put herself into the same environment.”

  “I don’t think those two things are the same,” I say, scowling. “And Grayson told me he never knew you were pregnant, but when exactly did he find out about me then?”

  She stills, as if realizing her mistake. “When I called him to ask him to go and check on you.”

  I blink slowly, my lips parting. “So you’re telling me...you called him up, and told him he had a grown-ass daughter that he never knew about, and that he needs to go looking for me because I was alone in L.A. with a bunch of bikers?”

  “Basically,” she says, lifting her chin. “I did what was best for you. He wasn’t the type of man to play the father role, and I should have never gotten pregnant by him; it was an accident. Not that I regret you, Abbie. Both of you girls are my greatest gifts, but I wish I gave you both better fathers, and that’s on me. I protected you, okay? I did what I needed to.”

  I don’t even know what to say right now, but I feel bad for Grayson. I just assumed he found out after my mother left him about me and chose not to be in my life. But he never knew. Maybe he would have stepped up if he was actually given the option to be a father.

  To know he was one.

  But she took that away from him.

  “What did he say when you told him about me?” I press, needing to know these details now. I’m angry at her, so angry, but it’s not going to change anything now. This has really showed me a side of her that I don’t like at all.

  “He was shocked,” she admits, wincing. “Very angry. He didn’t believe me at first, but then he did, especially when I told him your birthdate and sent him a picture of you. You have his—”

  “Eyes. I know.”

  “How do you know?” my mom asks.

  “Because I’ve met with him. A couple of times now,” I admit, jaw tight. “Could you imagine if the roles were reversed and someone did this to you? You’d be devastated. I don’t know how you justified this, Mom. How did you sleep at night knowing you were keeping me a secret?”

  “I was doing what was best,” she says, and I can see in her eyes that she truly believes that. “And you met him? Neither of you mentioned that.”

  Yeah, and I wonder why. She is the one who kept us apart—why would we go running to her with any information?

  “He deserved to know,” I tell her, my voice raising. “If he wasn’t good enough to be a father, then you should have been more responsible when you were sleeping with him. But you weren’t, and half of my DNA is his. You don’t get to play God an
d decide who gets to be in my life.”

  “He’s a drug dealer!” she screams back at me. “Yes, I should have been more responsible, but I wasn’t, and I wasn’t about to bring you down to his level.”

  “At least he has been somewhat honest,” I fire back at her, watching her flinch. “You can say whatever you want about his character, but it’s not him who has lied to me for my entire life.”

  Just when I thought I couldn’t be shocked anymore, the woman comes up with this information.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Why didn’t he just tell you that when you saw him?” Temper asks, arms around me as he strokes my back. “I don’t get it. He easily could have told you he only just found out about you, and then you wouldn’t have been so angry.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t want to be a dad. Maybe he was in shock, which is fair enough. I’m sure it’s not every day a woman from your past calls you and tells you, ‘By the way, you have a grown child.’ And let’s not forget his...career choices. He probably knows he’s not role model material.”

  The whole thing is just sad. It’s probably no one’s fault. I mean, Mom should have been honest, but she did what she thought was best at the time, and that’s all there is to it. There’s no point thinking about the what-ifs. It is what it is.

  “Maybe we misjudged him,” Temper thinks out loud. “What if he’s not so bad as we’ve made him out to be? I mean, look at the reputation the Knights get, and we’re not all bad.”

  “You’re not bad to the people on your side,” I remind him, arching my brow.

  “And what if he’s the same?”

  I pause for a moment, considering. “He might be,” I agree. “But according to what you have all heard, he’s the main drug distributor in the city. That is not a good man. That’s a man who gives no fucks about his actions, or the pain he causes people. That’s a coldhearted man who sees money, and that’s it.”

  “You’re probably right...”

  But maybe I’m not.