“Fuck,” my dad muttered, shaking his head as he drug the word out.
“Like that, is it?” Dragon replied, glancing at me. I stiffened.
“I’ll fill you in when we’re not getting’ pissed on,” my dad said, gesturing to the rain.
“Sounds good,” Dragon said. He nodded at me and Mark and headed for his bike.
“That went well,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Good to see you, sweetheart,” my uncle said, coming forward to give me a hug. “Missed you.”
“Missed you, too. How’s Rose?” I asked, breathing in the scent of leather and tobacco smoke.
“She’s doin’ good,” he said with a squeeze. “Thankfully. We’ll catch up more when we get home, yeah?”
“Okay,” I said with a smile as he pulled away.
As the little crowd dispersed, my cousin Will reached out and shoved me gently, his big paw still making me side-step a little. “Everything’s gonna be good,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
“Sure,” I replied, taking a step backward toward the truck.
I looked over at the bikes, where Leo and Dragon were already waiting. To be honest, I’d never expected a warm reception from anyone in the club and it was always a surprise when I got one, but the fact that neither of them had said a word to me stung.
“Forget it,” Mark said as we climbed into the truck.
“What?” I asked blankly, peeling off my soaking wet sweatshirt.
He started the truck and reached forward to crank the heat. “Forget it,” he repeated. “That wasn’t about you.”
“What wasn’t about me?” I asked, checking on Olive. She was still completely passed out.
“That Leo bullshit,” he said. His hand was so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles were white. “That was about me, not you.”
“Why would it be about you?” I asked, dropping into my seat.
“No love lost, you know?” he said, running his hand through his hair. “He’s always had a problem with me.”
“That’s stupid,” I huffed.
“No,” he said quietly, glancing at me. “That’s loyalty, baby.”
“To who?”
“To you.”
“Bullshit,” I said with a laugh.
“It’s not bullshit.”
“Uh, yeah,” I argued. “It is. If my family has no issue with you, then why would he?”
“Don’t know,” Mark said with a shrug. “Just is.”
As landmarks grew more and more familiar, I sat trying to figure out why Leo would have any loyalty for me. We hadn’t spoken much since I left for California. Like I’d told Mark, even my family had let the stuff from the past stay in the past—from what I could see, they weren’t holding any grudges. So why the hell would Leo? It didn’t make any sense.
Whatever Leo’s issue was, I hoped that he’d keep it to himself when we got to Eugene. I was going to have a hard enough time making nice with Lily without her boyfriend causing a bunch of bullshit. My stomach knotted in a mixture of anxiety and excitement. I’d always want to see my siblings, no matter how fucked up our relationship was, but I also dreaded it.
It was impossible to explain the feeling of being an outcast in your own family to people that hadn’t experienced it. Knowing that they loved you, but didn’t necessarily want you around was… heartbreaking. It made you unsure of yourself in a way that you hadn’t been before. It made you question your worth.
“First hurdle is over,” Mark said, reaching out to cover my hand with his. “Painless, right?”
I didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble. I hadn’t been worried about the men. It was the women who’d make snide remarks and talk shit about me behind my back. Before I could say anything, Olive’s wail filled the cab of the truck.
“Just climb back,” Mark said, glancing in the mirror. “We’re not stoppin’ until we’re behind the gates.”
“Never in a million years,” I grumbled as I climbed over the seat, “did I ever think I’d be nursing a baby in a moving vehicle like it was 1972.”
“Cost-benefit analysis,” Mark said, leaning out of my way. “Better to keep moving.”
“I know,” I replied. I shushed the baby as I unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her into my arms. “I promise it won’t always be like this,” I crooned. “Some day, I’m going to nurse you in a rocking chair, with sun shining through the window and the Beatles playing.”
“The Beatles, huh?” Mark said.
“What can I say,” I said with a shrug. “I’m a fan.”
“No lullabies?”
“I doubt I even know any,” I replied as I quickly and awkwardly changed Olive’s diaper. “Farrah wasn’t really a lullaby type of parent, but I can probably sing every Beatles song from start to finish.”
“My mom was more of an Alabama fan,” Mark said.
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t really sure what to say, because anything even remotely nice would’ve sounded insincere. At some point, maybe I’d be able to say something kind about Mark’s mother, but not yet. Not when I could still remember the satisfaction in her voice when she’d told me he’d left me.
“Dad was more of a Zeppelin guy,” he said, clearing his throat. “The Who. Pink Floyd. Bob Dylan. Creedence.”
“Really? I would’ve thought The Monkeys,” I replied sarcastically.
Mark barked out a laugh. “Oh, they were top ten, for sure.”
We discussed different bands we liked, both old ones and new, while I fed the baby. By the time I’d buckled her back in and was climbing into the front, we’d moved onto movies.
“Back to the Future was ahead of its time,” he said, pointing at me.
“Was that an intentional pun?” I asked with a laugh. “Plus, there’s no comparison. How you could think that Back to the Future is even close to being as good as Dirty Dancing is beyond me.”
Mark scoffed.
“That was a movie that dealt with social issues—”
“And was sexy as fuck,” Mark cut in.
“Well, yeah,” I drawled. “Patrick Swayze was fucking delicious.”
“Jennifer Grey,” Mark said, smacking his lips. “When she’s in those shorts, dancing down that little bridge thing? Damn.”
“That does it for you, huh?” I asked with a laugh. “Cut-offs and a pair of white sneakers?”
“If you hadn’t noticed,” he said, turning his head to give me a look. “I had a type.”
“What?” I practically screeched. “I don’t look anything like Jennifer Grey—before the nose job or after.”
He laughed. “I didn’t mean your face.” He shrugged.
I snickered as I realized he was right. In my late teens and early twenties, I had been shaped like Baby in Dirty Dancing.
“Well,” I said with a shrug, “too bad I couldn’t fit in those cut-offs now if someone paid me.”
“Fuck,” he spat with a huff. “Kill me if you’re ever shaped like that again.”
“Hey,” I said, a little confused and offended.
“Cecilia,” he said, his voice deepening, “you’re ten times sexier now than you were then. Jesus, I want to bite your ass every time you turn your back to me.”
I choked a little on the spit in my mouth.
“Too much truth?” he asked in amusement.
“No,” I wheezed.
“Good.” His hand came across the seat and gripped my thigh, and I was acutely aware of how close his pinky was to the seam of my pants. “Just so you know, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you—not even when you’re putting on a pad the size of a diaper just to prove a point.”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I shrugged.
“I want to see a red mark the shape of my hand on your ass,” he said, his eyes on the road. “I want to put hickeys on the insides of your thighs. I want to feel your tits against my face as I’m fucking you. God, I want to fuck you so bad, my teeth ache.”
Chapter 18
; Mark
I snapped my mouth shut and waited for Cecilia to put me in my place. We may have cleared the air back at the beach house, but we were far from a place where I could tell her I wanted to leave hickeys on her goddamn thighs. The back of my neck grew warm with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, but I refused to back-pedal. Not when I could see Leo’s bike a few car lengths ahead of us.
Fuck, I hated that guy. I’d be lying if I said that spelling out exactly what I wanted had nothing to do with the douchebag. His presence reminded me of every insecurity and fear I’d had as a kid. He’d been the chosen one. The one who’d always fit in. A natural born leader. A complete fuck. And, he’d had Cecilia, at least before she’d realized that I’d fucking worshiped her.
Knowing that they hadn’t gotten back together after I’d left didn’t lessen my hatred. If anything, it made it worse. I hadn’t tried again because I’d thought she moved on. I hadn’t gone back on my hands and knees and begged for her forgiveness because I was angry.
Cecilia still wasn’t saying anything and I risked a glance at her.
“Are you marking your territory?” she asked, fighting a smile as she tilted her head to the side.
God, it was fucking annoying that she could still read me like a book.
“No,” I lied.
“Good, because you know he’s with Lily,” she chuckled a little. “You know, my sister. And if that wasn’t enough, I didn’t want him when he was single.”
“I can’t want you because you’re you?” I dodged. “Why’s it gotta be that I have some ulterior motive?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
“Oh,” she sang, throwing her hands up in the air. “Put me on the defensive. Good move!” She dropped her hands. “It’s not going to work, though. We saw Leo and you’re suddenly all fired up to—to fuck me.”
“Been a while, sweetheart?” I teased. “Can’t even say the words?”
“None of your beeswax,” she shot back, making me laugh. “I can say the words. You want to put hickeys on my thighs,” she said, jokingly drawing out the words. “You want to spank me.”
She was joking, teasing me, and I still couldn’t help but get hard at the words coming out of her mouth.
“You want these big, new breasts in your face while you’re fucking me,” she said, leaning back against the seat. “Which is odd, because if I remember correctly, it was all about the doggie-style with you when we were teenagers.”
I huffed out a surprised laugh and looked at her. “It was any way I could get you when we were teenagers. Usually, that meant we were outside, and I didn’t want you to have to lay on the ground, so missionary wasn’t my go-to.”
“Oh,” she said, crossing her arms over her big, new breasts. “Well, that’s actually kind of sweet.”
“Mmhmm,” I hummed.
“We’ve gotten off track,” she said. “Why now?”
I tried to think of a way to change the subject, but by the stubborn set of her chin, I knew she wasn’t about to let it go. Instead, I went with honesty. “We’re almost to Eugene,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. “And you’re gonna be surrounded by family and the club, and I know you.” Her hand covered mine on her thigh, and she slid her fingers between mine. “You’re gonna start talking about how I don’t need to be there. That you’re safe. That I should get back to my life.”
“You know it’s true,” she replied quietly.
“I don’t know it’s true,” I said, tightening my fingers around hers. “I don’t know what the fuck is true right now. All I know is that they’d have to drag my ass away from you at this point, and I wouldn’t make it easy for them.”
Cecilia didn’t say anything, so I left it at that. I considered telling her that I didn’t just want sex from her, but I dismissed it. She already knew that. It had never been just sex with us, not even when we were two horny nineteen-year-olds with a lot of time on our hands. At the risk of sounding like a complete fucking sap, our connection was about more than that. We’d understood each other in a way that other people didn’t—the every-other-weekend kid that never felt like he belonged anywhere, and the misunderstood brat that acted out because she felt like no one saw her.
“I wonder where they’re going to have us stay,” she said after a while. “It’s not like I can stay in the clubhouse long-term.”
“Probably at your parents’ place,” I replied, instinctively cringing at the thought.
“God, I hope not. That place has had enough chaos. I can’t believe they never moved.”
“Me, either.”
“After the shooting, my dad said that some pencil-neck fuckers weren’t going to scare his family from their home,” Cecilia said dryly. “It was his big stand. But all the kids are gone now, you know? Only Charlie’s still at home, and she wasn’t even alive then. What does he have to prove at this point?”
“Maybe they just love the place,” I replied.
“Well, I don’t. I don’t give a shit if they redid the backyard. It’s still the place where our lives fucking exploded.”
As we got closer to Eugene, Cecilia’s hand went to her mouth, her fingers pulling at her bottom lip over and over. By the time we took our exit, her knee was bouncing with anxiety and her hand was holding mine so tightly that my fingers had begun to ache. There wasn’t anything I could say that would calm her down, and I wondered how in the world she’d forced herself to visit in the past if it made her that nervous.
When we pulled through the gate of the Aces’ compound, it was like a switch flipped. Cecilia’s hand slid away from mine as she sat up straight and ran her fingers through her hair. She quickly pulled her sweatshirt back on and found a tube of lipstick in her purse, smearing it on without bothering with a mirror. By the time she’d settled back into her seat like she was out for a Sunday drive, it was like I was looking at a completely different person than I’d spent the last few anxiety-filled hours with.
As we pulled to a stop in the forecourt and I put the truck in park, Cecilia looked at me.
“Showtime,” she said quietly. Then, without waiting for me, she hopped out of the truck and immediately opened the back door for Olive.
“You want me to grab her seat?” I asked as she climbed inside.
“No, I’ll just grab her without it,” she said as she unbuckled the baby. “But can you grab the diaper bag? She needs a diaper change.”
“No problem.”
After I’d grabbed the bag from the backseat, I met Cecilia at the hood of the truck. It was so late that I swore I could see the sky growing light, but by the number of people streaming out of the clubhouse, everyone had waited up for the convoy to get back.
“Give me my grandbaby,” Farrah ordered as we made our way toward the front door. “I wanna show her off.”
“Later, Mom,” Cecilia said with a shake of her head. If you looked closely, you could see the tension in her shoulders and in the movement of her body.
Unsurprisingly, no one noticed but me.
“Such a party pooper,” Farrah said lightly, bumping Cecilia with her hip. The tension that Farrah had been carrying seemed to have melted away now that we were behind the safety of the Aces’ gates.
“It’s not a party,” Cecilia ground out. The tension in her had magnified.
We were swallowed up as the groups mingled, and not for the first time, I noticed the way Cecilia stood apart. Not geographically, we were right in the middle of it all, but emotionally.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Poet said as he stepped in front of us. “Look at the three of you.”
“Good to see you, old man,” I said, grinning as he slapped me on the shoulder.
“You need to call me more often,” Poet replied. He pointed at Cecilia. “This one never calls.”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to,” Cecilia said in amusement.
Poet harrumphed. “Like you’ve ever done what you were supposed to
anyhow,” he said, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Beautiful, as always. You call me anytime you want to hear an old man blather.”
“Make sure you’ve got the time,” Amy said, coming up behind her husband. “He’ll keep you on the phone for hours.”
“Hey, Amy,” I said as she smiled at me.
“Hey, yourself.” She shook her head. “Should’ve guessed when you were eating us out of house and home that you’d grow into such a giant. Every time you come home, I’m surprised again at how damn tall you are.”
She turned to Cecilia. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentle. “Good to have you home.”
“It’s good to see you,” Cecilia replied. She didn’t say it was good to be home.
“You sure know how to make an entrance,” Amy said, grinning. “Let’s get you inside out of the weather so you can show me that baby of yours.”
“Cecilia!” a voice called over the crowd. I looked up from Amy to find Cecilia’s aunt Callie hurrying toward us. Within seconds, she’d wrapped Cecilia in a hug with Olive pressed between them.
“Goddamn it,” she said, her voice muffled by Cecilia’s head. “I can only take one of the kids getting into trouble at a time.” She leaned back to look at Cecilia’s face. “You okay, baby?”
“I’m okay,” Cecilia replied hoarsely.
“Thank God. Come on, let’s move this party inside.”
I fell into step behind the row of women, Amy on one side of Cecilia and Callie on the other. The sight was enough to make it appear like Cecilia had just been welcomed wholeheartedly back into the fold—but I knew better. These older women, who’d been through hell and lived to talk about it—didn’t have the time or the inclination for petty bullshit. Cecilia hadn’t been worried about her reception with them.
“You did good,” Poet said, striding along beside me. I slowed my gait so he could keep up. While I’d never say it, the old man wasn’t moving like he used to.
“What?” I asked, watching Cecilia move further away.
“Goin’ to get her,” he said jerking his head toward the women. “Bad deal. Glad you were there.”
“Me, too,” I replied.
“I bet,” he said with a sly grin.
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