by J. C. Emery
“She has gas,” Nic says quietly.
The nurse clears her throat. “Ms. Whelan, please call the nurse helpline next time you’re worried. We’re here to help.”
I raise an eyebrow at the nurse, who tucks a stray hair behind her ear and feels around ensuring the rest of her hair is still up in a messy bun. The woman diverts my gaze and turns away. When she does, I realize where I know her from. She’s got an angel tattoo on the back of her neck. The last time I saw that, she was naked and swinging around a pole at the clubhouse.
“What did you do?” I ask, curiously.
Nic smiles down at Robin and says, “It wasn’t me. She really did have gas. Wouldn’t stop screaming. I just acted like I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
Duke and I smile at my sister, who can’t take her eyes off her baby. My eyes drift to his, and when he turns toward me, I say, “It’s worth it.”
He returns my words with a nod before digging into his nasty burger. We fall into conversation about the upcoming party at Pres’s place and whether or not we should bring food or beer.
“I can’t drink, so food,” Nic says.
“But I can, so beer,” Duke retorts.
“This party is half in honor of the human I birthed, and she can’t do either, so I get her vote. Chey isn’t legal to drink, so she automatically votes food. That means we win. Food.”
Duke and I throw our hands up at her reasoning and laugh easily. Not that Chey won’t drink just because she’s not legal, but Nic’s crafty and I’m in too good of a mood to argue. It should always be like this. There’s just one person missing—my girl.
CHAPTER 23
April
12 months to Mancuso’s downfall
The aging car radio crackles under the strain of the weakened signal the farther we get from town. Fort Bragg doesn’t have any good radio stations, but that doesn’t stop us from turning on the radio and trying anyway. It’s sad really. You would think we would have learned by now.
The news personality, whose name I don’t even know, blabs on and on about the fucking weather like it’s some big surprise that it’s raining in Mendocino County in winter. Frustrated, I reach over and change the station, hoping for something more entertaining. There are few choices, and even fewer that sound appealing, but one word catches my attention, and I dial back to hear the story.
Sure enough, the station is delivering a news report, too, but this one is far more interesting than the last one about the rain. The whiny newscaster voice chirps through my Bug’s speakers, but I push through the annoyance because just a moment ago he said the name Darren Jennings.
“Quoting an unnamed source who reached out to us earlier today, ‘the attack on Darren Jennings appeared to have come out of nowhere, but without a statement from the police department, our community is forced to assume it was a gang-related attack, possibly in retaliation for Jennings’s father’s supposed gambling debt.’ Again, this statement is coming from an unnamed source in the community. Rumors have circled our small town since Darren Jennings was admitted to Coast Hospital last summer. While the police appeared to have a few leads initially, they have since reported no further progress in determining who is behind the former football star’s attack. St. Mary’s Catholic Church has asked on behalf of Jennings’s absent family that the people Fort Bragg continue to keep an eye out for suspicious activity and an open heart for the grief the Jennings family is suffering.”
They’re not reporting anything I haven’t heard already. Two days ago, I was left alone at Duke and Nic’s house while the three of them took Robin to the hospital for a supposed fever. But when they got back, Nick said it was just gas. I don’t know anything about babies, but even I know you can’t possibly confuse a fever with gas. Later that night, when the news reported that Darren Jennings had been found in his hospital room with a needle of methamphetamine pumped into his stomach, I knew it was the club. And I didn’t give a shit. That bastard hurt Nic, and he tried to hurt Robin. I may not be a brother, but I am Forsaken. That means he hurt my family, and fuck him if he expects any sympathy.
I want to ask Jeremy about Darren, but I don’t dare. He seems freaked. He did well to shower right after he came back from the hospital, and then he basically forbid me to even ask what happened. I wanted to press the issue, but he just crawled into bed with me and held me as if his life depended on it. Later that night, when he had fallen asleep, I lay awake, restless and fearful. That’s the worst part of being a woman in this world. We can ask questions and even beg for answers, but if the club doesn’t want to give them, they won’t. And there’s nothing we can do about that. Sometimes, it feels like I’m being punished by straddling the edge of the world but never been fully welcomed into it.
I choose this, I tell myself. Because I do. I choose Jeremy. I don’t regret it, even when he flops around for hours, struggling to find peace and refusing to tell me why he is so troubled. I suppose if it is this difficult for him to deal with, then I should respect his wishes and let him have his privacy.
So when we pull up to Ruby and Jim’s house and Jeremy cuts the car, I lean over and place a kiss on his cheek. I don’t really have to say anything to let them know that I’m here.
I climb out of the car and head directly for the house, but Jeremy doesn’t follow. He wanders off toward Ryan and Squat for some kind of crazy intense conversation that I want no part of. So instead, I sneak into the house through the sliding glass door that opens into the hallway near Alex’s room. I don’t think I’m supposed to know that, but the brothers are a bunch of chatty bitches. I figure if Jeremy is busy, then maybe I can actually hang out with Alex for a few minutes. We have been friends long enough but have never actually hung out. It’s kind of sad, really.
I close the door behind me and tiptoe down the hall but pause at the sound of a familiar gruff voice. Dad.
I peer around the corner to the game room and find that Dad and Holly are tucked into the corner. Neither look terribly pleased, but I can’t help watching anyway. It’s been three days since I’ve seen him, and as much as I want to say that I’m an adult and it doesn’t hurt, I would be lying. He’s my dad, and even when I don’t want to admit it, his opinion matters to me. He made me feel like a cheap whore and acted like Jeremy only wants me for my body. But I know that’s not true. Still, it was terribly hurtful and mean for him to say it. What’s worse is that Holly saw it all and didn’t say anything. She’s supposed to be on my side.
“You have to talk to her,” Holly says. Dad huffs and rolls his shoulders like he’s going to put up a fight, but Holly doesn’t give him any time. “One of the reasons I fell in love with you was because I got to see the kind of father you are. I know how much you love your little girl, and I know it kills you to see her grow up, but making her feel like crap is only going to push her away.”
“We still on this?” he asks.
“I can’t live with you being this grouchy. You need to talk to Cheyenne. You’re upset, but she’s upset, too. She’s not one of your brothers, so handle her with a little more care, will ya?”
“You telling me how to care for my own kid?” Questioning his decisions is one of the things he hates most. It doesn’t even matter that it’s Holly. I can tell it’s pissing him off, but I give him credit where credit is due, because he keeps his mouth shut when I know he wants to tell her off.
“Yeah, I am,” she says.
“You gonna make a habit out of it?”
“When I need to.”
Dad nods his head and rubs the back of his neck. As much as I wish she had stuck up for me during our fight the other night, I’m grateful she’s doing it now. I’m lucky to have her. In fact, Dad’s lucky to have her, too.
After an appropriate amount of time of listening in, I decide to make my presence known. Walking into the room, I clear my throat and avert my eyes. Showing up here doesn’t mean I’m caving. I meant what I said the other night, but unfortunately, I think Dad did, too.
“Talk,” Holly says quietly as she elbows Dad in the side.
He turns to her and narrows his eyes before focusing his gaze back on me. He takes note of Jeremy in the room and crosses his arms over his chest. Without thinking about it, I mirror his stance. I want to move my arms and do anything aside from looking like the spitting image of Sterling Grady, but I don’t want him to think I’m backing down. Because I am so not.
“Haven’t seen you in a few days,” Dad says with a nod in my direction.
“Yeah, I figured we needed a few days of space.” Truth be told, I wish he had shown up at Duke and Nic’s house right after our fight and apologized. But that’s not my dad, and I know better than to hope for an apology like that.
“I was hard on you,” he says. “Went too far, didn’t say what I wanted to.”
I swear the man is capable of forming complete sentences but definitely not when he struggling with his emotions. “Well, I’m listening now.”
“You two are so young. There’s no reason you got to rush into being adults. Trust me, it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. I just want you both to slow things down and focus on the shit you need to instead of each other all the time.”
“I love him,” I say in absence of the more eloquent response. It’s simple and it’s the truth, so really it’s all that I have. Dad’s eyes shift to Jeremy, totally ignoring my declaration.
“Jeremy, you’ve been fucking up the last few months. You’re not where you’re supposed to be, and when you are, you’re on your fucking phone. Spent a good year fucking begging for a cut. Did good with it until you got distracted. But the way you’re going, the brothers are never going to vote you in.”
I suck in a sharp breath and try to keep my composure. I don’t want him to know how much what he’s just said hurts. Jeremy’s gotten in trouble because of me, not because he’s lazy or disrespectful. He hasn’t forgotten where he is supposed to be and when. It’s only been to protect me.
“You get that?” Dad asks, his eyes now having traveled to Jeremy’s.
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy says like a goddamn parrot.
“Prospecting isn’t a time for hooking up. Your only priority should be the club, and if you can’t tell me without a doubt that you choose the cut over your girlfriend, then you might as well hand it over now.”
“Fiancée,” I snap. I shouldn’t let them get to me like this, but I can’t take it back. The word I so callously and carelessly threw out is probably the worst thing I could’ve said right now. Well, not technically the worst. I bet telling him I was pregnant would be worse, but only slightly.
“Fiancée?” Dad bellows. First, his face turns red, then his neck, and pretty soon his hands that are clenched at his sides have turned an unnatural combination of red and white.
“You heard a single word I said?” he screams. Holly jumps back half a foot, her eyes flutter closed and her entire frame goes rigid. While I don’t suffer such a violent physical reaction, I certainly feel his disapproval deep in my heart. “You are throwing your entire fucking future away for a little bit of a dick. I raised you better than that, Cheyenne. I don’t fucking understand where I went so wrong that you are this intent on destroying not just your future but his as well.”
Staring at him numbly, I try to figure out exactly what he’s telling me. It feels like he’s not so subtly dancing around what he really wants to say, which is surprising. He’s never been a man known for self-control.
“I’m going to marry him because I love him. Because the future you want for me isn’t the future I want for myself,” I say. The words fly from my mouth in a pathetic whine I can’t really control.
“Not without my vote, he won’t,” Dad says.
Very slowly, Jeremy turns his attention toward me. He shakes his head slowly and mouths, “Just stop.”
“It doesn’t take a club vote to get married,” I say. It’s his club—he should know the rules little bit better than that.
“No, but it does take the club to vote in an old lady. And as long as you keep acting like a spoiled fucking brat, I won’t ever allow you to be voted in.”
“Grady, man,” Jeremy says. His voice wavers, careful not to insult my dad, but fearful and pleading.
“No. I’m fucking done with this shit. I am the only one who’s noticed you can’t keep your dick on straight. You want to be Forsaken? You want to marry my girl? Only fucking way either of those is ever going to happen is if you can get your shit together long enough to not fuck up your entire future.”
“Wow, you can’t even be a little bit happy for me, can you?” I say. I fight back the tears that threaten to slip down my cheeks. I’m an adult, and I’m strong. I refuse to let any of them see how weak I really feel inside.
“It’s not about being happy for you, baby girl. It’s about doing right by you, and right now that means giving you some hard truths. You need to know that if you keep going like this, you’re going to cost that boy his patch. Best thing you can do for him is to just go to that goddamn school I told you I’d fucking pay for and let the kid earned his top rocker in peace.”
Dad raises an eyebrow, daring me to keep arguing. Honestly, I could argue with him for days. We’ve done it before, and I’m not afraid to do it again. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any point in it. He’s got himself convinced that our relationship is going to destroy both our lives, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to change that. So instead, I let my frustration get the better of me—I throw my hands in the air and stomp away.
Jeremy follows after me and pulls me aside into Alex’s room. I only know it’s her room because while there are posters of naked women on the walls, there are also competing department store photographs of flowers, the beach, and even one 5x7 of Ryan and Alex together. I never wondered what Ryan’s decorating style was, but now that I know, I’m really grateful that tiny little crush I had on him years ago has since faded and that nothing ever came of it. I totally couldn’t live with waking up every day to a woman’s fake rack.
“This is so fucked up,” Jeremy says. He’s scrubs his face with his hands and groans. “Maybe he’s right. I’ve been spending so much time trying to keep your ass out of trouble that I haven’t even been worried about mine.”
I have to turn away from him to stop myself from totally breaking down. We’ve been engaged for, what, three days? And he’s already got cold feet and changed his mind. I was afraid of this, even if I never wanted to admit it. Something in the back of my mind told me that this is what boys do. They make commitments they can’t keep. They tell you they’ll be with you forever, when what they really mean is that they’ll be with you until it’s no longer convenient. Because that’s all this is with my dad—inconvenient.
“Are you serious? Are you really going to let one argument stop us from being together the way we want to be?” I think I already have my answer, but I’m not willing to accept it.
“You heard him,” he says. “When have you ever known Grady to threaten shit he doesn’t mean?”
“So this is it? Our relationship means so little to you that you can just throw us away at the first sign of trouble? Well, I guess it’s better to find this out now.”
“No, I’m not throwing us away. I’m fucking telling you that we’re rushing into shit.”
“So, what—you asked me to marry you and you didn’t mean it?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I fucking love you, but I don’t know how to do this and not fuck everything up at the club.”
And here it is, in terms so black-and-white that even I can’t pretend I don’t see it. He’s choosing the club over what we have. The pain from his rejection cuts me like a knife, slicing through my flesh as smooth as it would butter. I refuse to cry in front of him, but
that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I just want him to know that I believe in us, and I’ll fight tooth and nail for there to be an us—always.
“I’m sorry,” he says as he closes in and reaches out for me.
I swat him away and beg for him to leave. Because if he stays, I’m going to cry. And today isn’t supposed to be a day of sorrow but a day of celebration.
Jeremy leaves. His absence practically suffocates me.
It doesn’t matter anymore. Because my father thinks I’m an idiot, my boyfriend doesn’t want to marry me, and every hope I had for my life has just shattered in a million little pieces. I would’ve thought something that hurts this bad would’ve come with a bigger hammer. But I guess not.
Minutes pass with me alone in Alex’s room, careful not to touch anything, just standing around and sniffling. I wish I had asked Jeremy for my car keys so I could go home, even if I know I’d get in trouble for being at the house by myself. I don’t really give a shit right now. All the men in my life are so keen on telling me what they think is best, but none of them are willing to listen to what I think is best for myself. So they can all go to hell.
“Cheyenne?” Alex says in a soft voice.
I spin around and stare at her sheepishly, then refocus my attention on her walls.
“I see you hired a professional decorator,” I say. I don’t know how to act with her, especially not right now. I formally met her once, but she’s my texting buddy, and I feel closer to her than I ever did to Tracie. And that’s saying something. She understands shit about my life that Tracie never could.
“Yeah, it’s a good thing I refused to pay him, right?” she says with a kind smile on her face. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I say sarcastically. “Jeremy just asked me to marry him a few days ago, and now, faced with Dad’s disapproval, he’s changed his mind. But I’m totally fine. Don’t worry about me,” I mutter, folding in on myself.