by Deja Voss
As we walk through the field together and everyone cheers, he keeps his arm tight around my waist. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers in my ear.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say. “I bet we’d make some really pretty babies.”
We head straight for Esther’s convertible and drive to the pond nearby for some pictures.
“How you holding up?” he asks as I lean into his body for a little extra support. I definitely need to sit down soon, but I want to make sure he gets to enjoy everything that a traditional wedding should entail.
“I’ll be fine, babe,” I assure him. “Although you’re going to have to get me fed as soon as we get to the reception. I think Ethan is gnawing on my stomach lining.”
“Get you fed, and get you home,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead.
“No way. I want you to have fun with your friends. This is your day too. Unless you’re in a hurry to make me an honest woman, that is,” I say, batting my eyelids.
“I can’t wait to ruin that dress,” he laughs. “I hope you didn’t plan on wearing it again.”
We get in the car and drive to the clubhouse, and I realize just how awesome being this pregnant is. Nobody judges me as I quickly wave them off and head straight for the buffet. I let Tank handle greeting all the guests. I don’t even bother with the table that’s been set up for us, I just prop myself up on the nearest barstool and attack this plate of pulled pork like it’s the last meal I’ll ever eat.
“Olive!” Tank’s mother says, sprinting over to me the best she can in her high heels. She looks stunning in her long red gown, her make-up soft and her hair pulled up. “I haven’t got to talk to you yet today. You look so beautiful,” she says.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll look like a barbecued beach ball,” I giggle. “You look amazing, Mrs. Ellis. I hope you enjoyed the wedding.”
“I loved it,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “And I love you. I love you so much, and I hope you know it.”
“I love you, too, Mrs. Ellis,” I say, trying not to cry with food in my mouth. “You have been so good to me. You don’t know how much that means.”
“And now…” the lead singer of the band announces over the loud speaker. “We present you the newly wedded couples, Mr. and Mrs. Gavin Boden, and Mr. and Mrs. Thurston Ellis, for their first dance.”
Everyone begins cheering and catcalling and Tank comes over and grabs me by the hand.
“They’re going to make me dance, Mom,” I whine, winking at her.
“Did you just call me?”
“Watch my food,” I say as he drags me off onto the dance floor.
“I know you hate this,” he whispers, pulling me into his body, pressing his forehead to mine.
“I definitely don’t hate this, Tank,” I laugh. “I hate that I’m not the beautiful bride that you deserve and that I can’t get drunk and do cartwheels across the dance floor, but that stuff can wait. I love you, and that’s all that matters, right?”
“You’re the most beautiful bride I could imagine, Olive.” He puts his lips to mine. “And you taste like barbecue sauce, which I don’t think any sane man would complain about.”
We finish our dance and the crowd fills in the space around us, a bunch of wild bikers ready to celebrate. It’s easy for the two of us to disappear into the sea of people. Any other time, and I’d be in heaven right now. This is definitely one of the biggest parties I’ve ever seen in all my time on the mountain.
Instead, I track down Trixie, who’s replenishing food on the buffet line.
“Thank you so much for doing all this, Aunt Trixie,” I say, hugging her. “You care if we grab some to go?”
“Not at all, Ollie. You’re probably beat.”
“I promise I won’t be knocked up for your wedding. Then we’ll really throw down.”
Her laugh is loud and filled with snorts. God, I love this woman, and not just because she’s filling up a giant sheet pan with food for me.
Tank comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me. “Are you ready to go home?” Ethan starts bouncing around like a jumping bean when he feels his father’s hand on my stomach. It’s cute, even though the way he’s positioned right now is with his feet pointing directly at my bladder.
“If you want to stay, I’ll be fine. I can just take a nap in one of the rooms upstairs. I don’t want you to miss out on anything.”
“Well I don’t want to miss out on one minute of the rest of our lives together. Come on,” he says, grabbing the pan from Trixie and walking me towards the door. We go to say goodbye to his parents, who are sitting with Esther and Brooks, eating wedding cake.
“Concert choir, huh, Thurston?” Brooks says with a wink, slapping him on the back.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Esther laughs. “Your fearless president tried to play the clarinet all through middle school because he had a crush on the band director.”
“Now I only play the skin flute,” he says, shrugging. Mrs. Ellis must have had a few cocktails because she slams her hand on the table as she throws her head back laughing.
“We’re going to get out of here, guys,” I say. “This band has Ethan all riled up. I think he’s trying to break dance in there.”
“Well, go home, guys,” Esther says. “We got this.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Ellis says. “Don’t let us hold you back.”
I hug my friends and my new in-laws, and Tank and I walk out the door, hand in hand, into the chilly April air. The wind is blowing, but the sun sits high in the sky and I can feel the excitement of spring in my bones. The new life. The fresh smell of everything green making its appearance after a long hard winter. I’m looking at the world through new eyes. I feel like a new woman. I feel complete and content and everything is right in my world.
We get in the car and drive off to our home, his hand in mine, and I sink back into the seat and close my eyes, letting the wind hit my face.
“Well, Mrs. Ellis?” he asks, opening the door for me. “You want me to carry you across the threshold?”
I wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts me in his arms as I squeal. I might be big as a whale, but he makes me feel so small, so safe, everything is so effortless with us.
“Now about that dress,” he says, setting me to the floor in the bedroom. I tug the zipper on the side and gaze into his eyes.
“You ever screwed a married woman before?” I ask, licking my lips.
“It’s been on my bucket list since the day I met you, Olive.” He smiles at me, pulling the straps from my shoulders, looking at my body like it’s the first time all over again.
“At least you don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant,” I giggle, as his lips touch my neck, his beard grazing my collarbone in that way that makes me melt.
I close my eyes and our life together flashes through my mind as he lays me on the bed. From the day we met until now, until the day we are old and gray, the love that I feel for him only growing stronger and stronger. The way it was always meant to be. No matter how we got here, it was all worth it.
“Everything I need is right here,” I sigh, my eyes rolling back in my head as his mouth travels down my trembling flesh.
Tank:
I DON’T KNOW what feels better, the fact that my life turned out exactly how I wanted it to, or the fact that I finally let go of the guilt of losing my best friend in the process.
As hard as it was on Olive when she found out about the cover-up, I did my best to stay strong and hide what I was actually going through. I tried to focus my attention on my bikes, on our baby coming, on making plans for our new house, the wedding, everything good that I had coming to me, but at night I’d pace circles in the pile of rubble where our house once stood, trying to make sense of everything.
Why wasn’t it me home with her that night? Why, of all the days that he would decide to come back, would that be the night that Brent broke into the house? The guys insist he was probably staking t
he place out, he probably had been watching Olive since she got out of jail, and maybe got tipped off that we were going to be out on a run that night, but God, the timing is chilling.
Red’s coach was the only person who really came looking for him. Trying not to break down and tell the man exactly what happened was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. He explained to us that Red had been acting erratic ever since they went to Atlantic City, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he just wandered out into the ocean one night. The man felt terrible, that’s for sure, like he let us all down by not keeping a better eye on him.
We all know better though. Red was going to do whatever Red wanted to do, period, full stop.
The more I paced that lot, the more I found peace. I could almost hear him telling me to be happy, telling me that I better take care of Olive. It’s what he wanted all along. He died fulfilling his life’s purpose, protecting the woman he loved and making sure that I could be around to take care of her, and taking care of her is my life’s purpose. Everything came about full circle, and even though this isn’t the kind of happily ever after that you read about in fairy tales, it’s about as good as it gets when you choose the Mountain Misfit lifestyle.
Ethan is a quiet baby. He looks like his mother, but he acts like me. He’s wide-eyed, observing everything around him, soaking it all in. One of my favorite things to do with him is strap him to my chest and take him walking in the woods, through the fields, all over the mountain. He smiles when the breeze hits his face. He wants to touch everything. Leaves, rocks, bark, watching his wonderment as he experiences all these new sensations and learns about the world around him is one of the best things about being a father.
Every once in awhile, when we’re out walking, I’ll catch a whiff of burning in the air, and it brings me back to that night, but I just think of it as Red letting us know he’s here with us. Hell, his ashes coat this mountaintop. He’s everywhere. He was always the kind of guy that had to be the loudest person in the room. He never flew under the radar. I’m sure the fact that the leaves this fall are all turning a bright hue of red is just his way of reminding us he hasn’t gone anywhere.
Ethan and I stand in the backyard, and I look through the kitchen window at my beautiful wife, singing to herself as she washes dishes in the sink. I could stand here all night long watching her. Knowing how happy she is makes me complete. It makes me proud of the man I’ve become.
I come inside and she snatches Ethan from my arms. She kisses me on the lips like I’ve been gone for months. She always does.
“What do you got there, little man?” she asks Ethan, his fist clenched tightly in a ball. She pulls his fingers apart and squeals. It’s a wooly bear caterpillar, bright red with a single black stripe across it. He smiles at her like he got away with something. I don’t know how he’s gotten so smart in the six short months he’s been alive, but I swear he has a sense of humor already.
“Is your uncle Red playing pranks on me again?” she laughs. She opens the back door and flings the fuzzy bug outside. “I think it’s time for your bath,” she says, kissing the top of his head. I help her get the tub ready and wish that this moment would never end.
“What about you, Tank?” she whispers, batting those long blonde eyelashes at me as she dries him off and wraps him in a diaper. “I bet you could use a bath, too. I know I could. I’m feeling kind of dirty.”
“I’ll put Ethan to bed,” I say, flashing her a wink. “You go get that water running.” I slap her ass and she giggles, trotting off to the bathroom.
I put Ethan in his crib and he drifts off within seconds as I stand over him, watching, wanting him to know that I’ll always be here to keep him safe.
“We’ve got a situation,” I hear Ollie’s voice come over the baby monitor in a quiet whisper. “I seem to have misplaced my clothes.”
“Stay put,” I laugh, as I sprint down the hallway to the bathroom. I stand in the bathroom doorway and she stands there in all her glory, grinning from ear to ear. My beautiful wife, the woman of my dreams, the mother of my children, everything I need is right here.
THE END
CHAPTER 1
Stacy:
T he day Azalea Phoenix died, nobody shed a tear.
Everybody was too busy trying to figure out her ties to the FBI by proxy of one dead rat informant who she called her fiancé. The man who infiltrated her father’s club pulled the wool over the eyes of everyone in the Debasers MC and defiled his only daughter.
That was me, the twenty-two-year-old girl who bit off more than she could chew.
Now, I’m dead to them. At least, I hope they think I am. I left all my belongings with a ride or die suicide note, blaming myself for the things that Harold did to the club.
Truth is, I still have a lot of living to do.
I still have a lot of places I want to see. I’ve never left the country; hell, I’ve barely left Magoffin County.
I still have some revenge to exact on those fucking degenerates who murdered the love of my life without even letting him explain himself. They didn’t know what I knew. They didn’t realize he was helping the club. They were too stupid and bloodthirsty to let me explain for him.
Azalea Phoenix was going to rise from the ashes someday and show them exactly what happens when you fuck with one of your own. They’re going to see exactly what they made me into. It was a mission brandished in the back of my mind, something that made my life worth living for.
But for now, Stacy Smith sounds sweet enough. She’s a brunette, something that is taking me a hell of a lot of patience to get used to. Every time I see myself in a rearview mirror I want to scream. My long blonde locks were somewhat of a prized possession to me. This sloppy brown bob makes me look like I lost a bet.
Stacy Smith is hitchhiking north to go help her sister, Sarah, take care of her kids after the recent passing of her dear brother-in-law. They’re good churchgoing people, but the good Lord decided it was his time, leaving Sarah all on her own with newborn twins and a three-year-old named after me who keeps asking where her dad went. That is, until she hits Pennsylvania. Then maybe her backstory will change. It doesn’t really make a difference either way, as long as she stays unmemorable as possible.
Stacy Smith is doing a terrible job of dropping her Southern accent. Or responding to Stacy. Or getting any sleep at night for fear of being groped by a trucker or found by her family, unsure of which is the worst of the evils.
“Miss! Miss!” I feel her hand on my shoulder, but it’s not enough to jostle me completely from my slumber. For the first time in nearly three weeks, I feel like I am in a safe enough place to actually get some rest.
It’s perfect nonsense that that place happens to be a biker bar, but when I stumbled into the Bucktail Saloon, I got this sense of home that made me want to overstay my welcome just a little bit.
“I don’t care if you sleep here,” the blonde with the curly hair says. I can see the compassion in her eyes, and I know she’s being genuine. She reminds me a lot of me in a former life, that life that wasn’t so long ago but feels so far away. “I just have to take your beer. State law.”
“I understand completely,” I say through half-open eyelids, cradling my head in my hands.
“I’m Olive, by the way. Are you alright? I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It just looks like you’re having a rough day.”
Rough day, rough week, rough month… rough life. Check and check. I could probably open up to this girl. I could probably tell her my whole life story and she wouldn’t bat an eye, but Stacy Smith is quiet. She operates on a need-to-know basis, and the only thing Olive needs to know is that I’m not here to cause any problems.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“You’re no bother at all. It’s pretty quiet here in the afternoon. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if that someone talks back in snores.” She giggles, and for the first time s
ince I left Kentucky, I feel myself genuinely smiling.
“Thank God it’s quiet; I’d probably clear the room with my stench alone.” I haven’t had a proper shower since Virginia, and all the dry shampoo, body spray, and swimming in public bathroom sinks in the world weren’t enough to cover up the fact that I was a hot mess. “I’ve been on the road for a while. Excuse my grossness.”
“Look at where you are, love,” she says. “Grossness is kind of our thing.”
She fills up a glass of water and sets it in front of me. She lines up two shot glasses and reaches down beneath the bar and pulls out a mason jar full of clear liquid. I was raised on moonshine, and rumor had it people up north really didn’t know what the hell they were doing, but who was I to turn down a free shot?
“This will make you sleep like a baby,” she says. “In the office, of course. My boss is out for the day. You won’t be any hassle.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. She taps her shot glass to mine and we down the surprisingly smooth liquor. “Damn, that’s really good. Reminds me of back home.”
“Which is? Never mind. Don’t tell me.”
She is eyeing me up and down, like she’s trying to read my mind, and I just chug down the water she set in front of me, realizing how empty my stomach is. The last thing I ate was a bag of pretzels, and I can’t remember if that was yesterday or this morning.
“You look like you could use some pizza.”
“Why are you being so kind to me?” I ask. Seriously, I’m perplexed. If the tables were turned, if we were back on my home turf, our motto is ass, cash, or grass. And we’re supposed to be all about the southern hospitality.
“I just really want some pizza, and I’ll feel rude eating the whole thing myself in front of you. That, and I get it. I’ve been there.”