"That was for staying away," she told me, giving me a firm nod.
"I deserved it," I agreed.
"Good. We agree. Now, this is for coming home," she said, giving me that hug I had been expecting.
When she stepped away, it was Fallon who spoke next. "So, you're back," he said, voice hollow, a little cold.
"I'm back."
"And when are you leaving again?" he asked.
Sharp. He was sharp. I should have expected that. He was our father's son. He was who was likely going to take over the MC one day.
"You can't leave," our mother insisted, her voice sounding choked.
A sound that made me shoot daggers at my brother.
"It's a valid question," he insisted, crossing his arms. A muscle was ticking in his jaw. So much like our father.
"For another time," I shot back, daring him to push it, to make a scene right here in front of our parents.
"Yeah, man," Finn agreed, shouldering our brother. "Relax. The Prodigal Daughter returned. We should get a cake or some shit."
Some shit.
Some weird, big sister urge inside me wanted me to tell him not to curse. At least not in front of our parents. I was instantly transported back to my teens, always trying to big sister them, to assist in making them tolerable human beings.
But, I needed to remind myself, that wasn't my place anymore.
They didn't need help raising.
They were grown fucking men now.
They could curse in front of our parents if they wanted to.
"You celebrate," Fallon suggested, making his way toward the door. "I'm going for a ride."
"Thanks for the room," Finn told me, coming in for a quick man-hug. "Fallon used to slay dragons in his sleep. It was fucking obnoxious."
"When did you get back?" my dad demanded, the first words he'd said directly to me.
"Five days ago," I admitted, watching his brow arch up as his gaze moved over toward West.
"Don't look at me, Daddy Reign. Vance was the mastermind here."
"Gee, thanks, asshole," Vance shot back, shaking his head.
"We didn't want to ruin your vacation," I cut in. "If they told you, you would have spent the rest of the time wanting to get home instead of making memories. It was just a couple days.
"That was very considerate," my mother told us, giving me a watery smile.
My father, though, still sent a stern look in West and Vance's directions. There would be a talk later, I was sure. But I think my father was going to go light on them given the circumstances.
"Where have you been staying?" my mom asked. "Since you came back," she clarified, like a parts of her knew it was too soon to start talking about where I had been, what I had been up to.
Thankfully, the night went much the same. We discussed the things Vance had already filled me in on, but I acted as though the information was completely new.
We ordered Chinese and Finn went out to get coffee.
Eventually, West brought out the alcohol.
"Do you want something, honey?" my mother asked, words a little awkward. "That still feels so weird," she added, grimacing. "Offering your adult children alcohol. I don't know if I will ever get used to it."
I didn't drink much.
Once in a blue moon, I would hit a bar, throw a few back when my mind was a too-ugly place. Despite things going well, I honestly did feel like I needed the edge taken off. Because there was no telling when things might get rough, might get awkward for me.
"Whiskey," I told West who was fetching drinks. "Straight," I added.
"Well, you are your father's daughter," my mom declared, wrinkling her nose.
"She still likes her coffee full of sweet crap," Vance supplied. "She's got a lot of you in her too," he added, giving her a warm smile.
I wondered a bit then if Vance had started to see my mother as a sort of foster mother to him. He'd been motherless for a long time from the sound of things. And their relationship had never been close in the first place.
I could see it so easily.
My mom was the ultimate mom. Sweet, loving, generous almost to a fault. She was the kind of mom who baked you cookies for no reason, who took you out of school early to take you to get ice cream because she thought you needed a mental health day. She let you bend rules. She let you become your own person without judgement. She was quick to hug and offer an ear or shoulder.
I could totally see why Vance might be so drawn to her, wanted to make her feel better when she maybe worried her daughter didn't have a lot of her qualities in her.
"I forgot how much I like sugary crap," I added.
"You are thin," she responded, eyes going worried.
"Don't worry. I've been eating. It has just been healthy stuff."
"I've been stuffing her full of fat and MSG for you, Summer," he told her, gaining a warm smile from her.
"Thank you for looking out for her for us. It must have been so depressing to finally come home and not have a welcoming committee."
"I, ah, no. It wasn't depressing. I was surprised is all. You guys never take a vacation."
"Were you surprised to see Vance?" she asked as Dad called Vance away.
"Well, ah, yeah. I had no idea he patched in. He, you know, he never showed interest in that before."
"We were surprised too, I think. His band had been doing so well. Then he was just out of it. When Daddy came home to tell me he asked to prospect, I was shocked."
"He seems to have settled in well."
"He has. I think he really needed the family dynamic here. Were you happy to see him here?" she asked, leaning in closer, voice dropping lower.
"Ma..." I said, shaking my head, feeling my neck get warm, an old familiar feeling when she said something I felt was inappropriate for her to say. Which was just about anything she said when I was a teenager.
"I know it has been a long time. And maybe you have a man. Or a woman..." she added at the last second, shrugging.
"No. No man."
"He still looks at you like you hung the moon."
"Still?" I asked, brow furrowing.
"He always did. Even though he barely ever looked at you. When he did, it was clear how much he cared about you. And, well, you didn't exactly hide how you felt about him."
"I made a fool of myself, huh?"
"You know... I think it is really admirable to be so open about your feelings. It says something about you to be able to do that. I always thought it was really lovely how unwavering you were with him. Even though you knew nothing could happen. Even when other guys paid you attention. It was only ever Vance for you. Have you two been... reconnecting?"
My inner teen couldn't help but utter a typical Ew, gross mom.
And I felt my lips twitch at that.
Warm and familiar.
"We were trying to lay low so no one saw me before you guys, so he was kind of taking care of me."
My heart squeezed at that.
At the truth of it.
At how it was the culmination of my girlhood dreams coming true.
"He's a good man, baby."
"I see that," I agreed, nodding.
"I hate the cliche of the meddling mother, but if you still find yourself interested, I think he would be a great partner."
"Plus, could you imagine your father's head exploding when he realized his girl was dating one of his men?" Aunt Lo asked, smiling wickedly.
Aunt Lo could always be counted on to enjoy all parts of a new romance. Including the drama.
She'd been the one to start slipping me romance novels as a teen. Which had only managed to further encourage my hopeless romantic dreams of a happily ever after with my girlhood crush.
"I think we are getting a little carried away with ourselves," I said. Even though carried away was exactly what I wanted to get with Vance. I tried to convince myself that it was just an itch that needed to be scratched, that I was simply holding onto a need from years ago that needed fulfilling.
"Carried away sounds fun," Aunt Lo said, giving me a knowing smile before moving off.
"Ferryn?" my mom called, voice hesitant, making me turn back to find her watching me with worried, uncertain eyes.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Can I ask something of you?" she asked.
In that moment, I was sure I would promise her anything to get that look off her face.
"Sure."
"Don't do that to us again."
"Mom..."
"I get that you are an adult now. I get that you built a life. I get that you have other obligations now. But don't do that to us again. Take off for years with no way for us to contact you. Without dropping in to let us see you."
I didn't want to make promises. I didn't want to say that I could always be here. Because my life, the nature of my work, offered no guarantees.
"As much as I can control it, Mom, I will try to be around more."
"One day, and I am not asking right now, but one day, I would like to know what that means," she told me, giving me a one-armed hug. "Where are you going to stay tonight?"
I knew what she was really asking.
Do you want to come home with us?
And, quite honestly, I wasn't sure I was ready for that.
"I was thinking maybe we could all camp out here. Like old times," I added. "That way, when word gets out to everyone else, we will already be here when they want to stop by."
"That's a great idea. Maybe we can arrange a big breakfast. See if I can get some of the girls together to help me make a big spread once they hear."
"That sounds amazing."
It did, too.
Some of my favorite memories as a girl were of hanging around while my mom and aunts—the ones who liked cooking—hung out in the kitchen, chopping, mixing stirring. They were always very open and blunt when cooking, sharing really silly or embarrassing or sexy stories.
I would always flit back and forth between the kitchen and wherever the men were congregated, usually cursing, watching the game, playing pool, being ultra manly. I always loved the contrast.
The idea that I could get to be a part of that all over again made that warm feeling move through my chest again.
"Have you picked up any cooking skills over the years?" she asked, knowing it had never been my strong suit.
"Not a one," I admitted, giving her a smile that she so readily returned. "But I am good with a knife. I can chop things for you guys."
She skimmed right over the meaning behind my knife skills with a wobbly smile. "That would be great, honey. Anything special you want?"
"Are you going to make West go and get it?"
"It never ceases to be fun to boss the younger guys around," she admitted with a conspiratory grin.
"In that case, what is the most obscure, really hard to find ingredient we can sent him on a hunt to find?"
"Oh, that's my girl," she said, eyes warm as we tried to come up with a plan.
"You're evil," Vance declared, dropping down on the couch beside me after my parents had gone off to bed. Only after my coaxing because they both looked dead on their feet from travel and the excitement of the day.
"Oh, come on, I have heard a lot of stories now about how much of a pain in the ass West can be. Someone has to give it back to him."
"Organic Seedless Strawberry Pop-tarts. They almost sound real."
"Which is exactly the point," I agreed.
"And three-percent whipped cream."
"That should have him hitting all the grocery stores in the area until he finally tries to Google it."
"He's going to get you back for it."
"I'm counting on it," I agreed.
"You know, from the sound of things, it kind of seems like you might be staying for a while."
"I have a lot of catching up to do still."
"I'm happy to hear that, Ace. I think all of you have a lot of recovering to do. Fallon..."
"Yeah," I agreed, nodding. He'd never come back. And when Mom had texted him about brunch the next morning, he had said 'Not a fucking chance in hell'. That was going to be a long, hard road to travel up.
"He's just a royal pain in the ass in general," Vance told me, shrugging. "Hungry to prove himself but has no opportunity to do it. Makes him a moody bastard a good chunk of the time."
"Well, at least I know it's not just me."
"Are you excited about the breakfast? Or nervous?"
"Both, I guess. Not as nervous as I was today. But I think a couple of my uncles are going to have a lot to say. And maybe some of my aunts too."
"And you have to hear them out."
"Exactly," I agreed, nodding.
"Sounds like you need to get some sleep."
"I guess," I agreed. Even if sleep was the last thing on my mind with him so close by.
"Finn changed the sheets out before he headed out. You're all set."
Finn didn't technically have a room. Only patched members had rooms. But with so few of them needing to stay at the clubhouse much anymore, the guys who used to crash there cleared out their stuff which let Finn claim a room right beside our parents. Fallon, a stickler for rules and clear stick-in-the-mud, refused to claim a room until it was in an official capacity.
I think he was secretly hoping Dad would step down. Which would allow him to move into that role. Traditionally, in this club at least, presidents didn't step down. They lost their place because of death only. But our father had always been a little looser with the rules, so it wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibilities that he just might give his place away.
I had to wonder, though, if he truly thought Fallon was mature enough to take his place. It wasn't my business. It wasn't my place. But I couldn't help thinking about it at least.
"Alright," Vance said a moment later, stopping outside Finn's door. "I know you know your way around here probably better than I do, but if you need anything, I'm right there," he said, pointing a few doors down, the second to last one in the hall in the opposite direction of my parents.
"Vance," I called at his retreating back.
"Yeah, Ace?"
"Thank you," I told him, voice a little thick, the events of the day clearly catching up to me quickly.
"Anytime, Ace. Anything," he added, turning and walking back to his room.
Those words were the ones rolling around in my head as I lay on the bed in the very bare room, staring up at the ceiling, hearing the distant sounds of a TV droning on. Likely in my parents' room. My mom tended to fall asleep with it on. And Dad thought she slept better with some background noise, so he left it on when he conked out too.
Other than that, though, the place was quiet.
Or so I thought.
Until there was a brief pause in the TV sound and I heard it.
Music.
The slow, soothing thrumming of a guitar.
I didn't think it through.
I simply followed the urge.
Out of my bed, across the floor, out into the hall, down to his door.
My hand rose, rapping my knuckles gently against his door.
"Yeah?" he called, music still playing.
"Pushing open the door, I stepped in, closing it silently behind me, leaning back against it.
"I can't sleep. I heard you playing," I added. "Can I listen for a while?"
To that, he gave me a lazy smile, nodding his head toward the empty foot of his bed.
I didn't need any more encouragement. I stretched out at the end, my legs cocked to the side to make room for his feet, staring up at the ceiling, just listening.
I couldn't count how many times I'd sat listening to him playing. Sometimes his favorites. Sometimes mine. Other times music he was working on, starting and stopping over and over, jotting down notes, trying to get it right.
There were no words to this unfamiliar song, but Vance hummed along occasionally, a sound that shivered through my insides, turned them warm and gooey.
"Ferryn," he calle
d some time later. Maybe it was only minutes, maybe hours.
"Yeah?" I asked, hearing a certain dreaminess in my voice, feeling it in my eyes as my head shifted on the mattress to look over at him.
"You're fucking killing me," he declared, voice barely more than a whisper.
"Hm?" I asked, confused.
His gaze slid from my face, moving over my chest, covered by the very thin material of my gray tank top, then over my thighs, perfectly bare.
I had long ago stopped thinking of things like proper sleep attire, generally choosing to sleep in the least amount of clothing possible for comfort reasons.
There had never been any reason not to, any eyes looking at me.
Vance's eyes were definitely looking at me. Reminding me that we had unfinished business.
Swallowing hard, I met his gaze once again. "Do you want me to go put more clothes on?" I asked, challenging him to say yes when we both knew neither of us wanted that.
"No," he admitted, voice rough as his hand moved his guitar, gliding it down onto the floor beside the bed.
I rolled over, moving onto all fours, gaze holding his as I crawled up the mattress, arms and legs on either side of his body, until I settled on his lap, slowly raising my arms above my head.
In my girlish fantasies, he'd always been the ones making moves, always the one initiating kissing, touching, undressing.
But there was something about the way his eyes burned as I made moves that lit me up in a way I never could have anticipated before.
His body folded upward, chest nearly brushing mine, hands snagging the hem of my shirt, slowly sliding it upward, knuckles grazing my ribs, the sides of my breasts, the undersides of my arms.
My shirt slid off my wrists, was tossed carelessly to the side.
Vance held my gaze for a long moment before lowering back down, happy to let me take the lead.
My hands moved down, grabbing his, sliding them up my sides, settling them over my breasts, the calloused tips of his fingers sliding over my sensitive skin, settling them on fire even as goosebumps covered my skin.
"Ace," he called, voice rough.
"Yeah?"
"I fucking missed you," he told me.
I couldn't have prepared myself for the impact of those words, touching down deep in places I didn't even know existed any longer. But they did. And he had managed to find them, fill them, make me realize how empty they had been for so, so freaking long.
The Rise of Ferryn Page 14