by Addison Jane
That’s how I knew Romeo hadn’t turned into some monster because monsters have nothing to lose. They aren’t afraid of threats because there was no way you could hurt them.
“Do you feel responsible? Like he wouldn’t be in this position if things had been different,” Op queried, watching me carefully as if he was expecting me to lose my shit at any moment.
“Whether or not I feel like I’m the reason he is where he is doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that he’s my little brother... my blood brother… and my natural instinct is just as strong with him as it is with any of you. Protect.”
Leo tapped a finger on the desk indicating he wanted to speak.
Op nodded at him to go ahead. “I’m going to take a wild guess at the question you’re pussyfooting around,” he stated, rolling his eyes.
He wasn’t wrong, I was trying to avoid asking the question, fearful of my request being rejected. Romeo was a liability to the club, his obvious reputation and connections—most of which he was trying to run from now—could possibly bring heat on us that we didn’t need. These weren’t small time criminals. From the sounds of what Romeo had described, these were the guys who ran things—not their lackeys or a small time addict on the street trying to earn a dollar to feed his habit. No. These were the guys who had the cops on their payroll, the guys who they based Bond villains on.
“You want us to take him in and protect him in case someone comes looking for him,” Leo stated, hitting the nail directly on the damn head.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but this is huge for me. I know you think it’s stupid to blame myself for the hole he’s dug himself, but that doesn’t mean I should turn my back on him and let him be destroyed because he made a few shitty choices. He wanted to make something better, and someone stole that from him.”
I could see each of my brothers at the table seriously considering my words. They were hearing me, listening to what I was saying.
“I think we all know a little something about fucking shit up at some point or other and then having the people we give a damn about forgiving us,” I urged, knowing not a damn one of my brothers were fucking perfect, and they all knew it.
I was putting my ass on the line if they said yes, and I brought Romeo to the clubhouse. It meant putting our club in danger—members, old ladies, kids, family. If shit hit the fan and someone decided to come after Romeo, it would be on me.
I just couldn’t leave him out in the dark. I couldn’t sit aside this time and not do anything.
Romeo was right. Last time, I did everything by the book. I followed the word of the law and didn’t step outside of that. Then I wondered why I never got what I wanted. Like fuck, I was a kid, stupid and sheltered from the reality of life. Because in the real world, sometimes you had to push things a little further. Sometimes the law was just a guideline.
Camo leaned forward tapping the table and pulling everyone’s eyes toward him. “Let’s face it, if it were your brother who was in trouble, and you had the resources to protect him, what would you do?”
“Vote, yay,” Op started, without responding to Camo’s question.
The entire table yay’d, and I finally took a breath falling back into my chair as Op called for nay’s, and the room stayed silent.
Op finally turned his eyes back to me and nodded. “Yay’s have it. We’ll have the girls make him up a room. Just know, there will be some rules, and there will be a very strongly enforced no drugs rule right at the top. I don’t know your brother, and I won’t judge him on his past, but every man in this room had to prove their loyalty and respect to the club, and that will be no different for Romeo.”
“I hear you,” I replied, but couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face and the relieved laughter that followed. “Holy shit.”
Optimus dismissed church, and each of my brothers came to pat me on the back before they left the room reminding me that this fight wasn’t about getting my family back. This was about merging the two families.
The club was there for me when I had no one. They offered me a home and a place where I could grow and become the man that I always thought I’d failed to become. The truth was, though, maybe I was meant to be here all along.
I stood at the curb shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as I stared at the house I’d grown up in. My mom was home already. I let her know I was coming, and I was ready to talk like two adults. That was the most important word. I needed her to see me as an adult and respect me as one, too. Or things were just going to have the same result.
I knew there was a story, and I wanted to hear it.
I deserved to hear it.
There was a hard tap on my ass, and in my daze, I jumped before looking over my shoulder and glaring at Ham. “Just go. You wanna be treated like you’re older, you gotta grow some balls, babe, and show them you can handle whatever they have to say.”
He was right, but it was still like a kick in the gut.
I’d purposely asked Ham to drop me off needing to show my mom I was capable of making my own choices, and he was one of them—that was non-negotiable. We hadn’t discussed what was going on between us, but we both knew we were done skirting around the chemistry which had been sizzling between us for the past year.
I’d spent four days hiding in the clubhouse spending time with Ham and the others. It was kind of nice to be in a place with so many people, who I was now beginning to consider family. It had been just Mom, Denver, and me for a long time with the exception of Uncle Leo popping in occasionally.
Now I had the clubhouse, the brothers, the old ladies, the kids—it was freaking crazy, but a good kind of crazy, one that I found I kind of loved. Each one of them had different personalities. They had different things that made them unique, and even though they could be rough and boisterous, I would take that over the deafening silence of home any day. The more I thought about it, the more stepping inside the house I grew up in felt like I was stepping into a straitjacket and padded room. I’d had a taste of freedom and excitement, and now I just wanted to fly. I didn’t want to be trapped back in that cage.
Taking a deep breath, I forced one foot in front of the other and walked up the path. Trying to calm my breathing, I reminded myself this was my opportunity to prove to her I was older, more mature, and that I was ready to take on anything she had to tell me.
I wasn’t going to write her off. After talking with some of the girls, they reminded me there would be times when I would still need my mom. Times when I would feel like the world is crumbling down around me. Times where everything was going wrong, and I would still feel like she was the safest place on earth. I just needed to stand my ground.
Pushing open the front door, I heard Ham’s bike roar to life behind me. I looked over my shoulder, and he nodded in support before revving the engine and pulling away from the curb.
Ham gave me strength.
It was hard to explain, but the way he’d always stood beside me, always been the first to come and rescue me when I needed someone, it made me feel comfort and reassurance. While he was encouraging me to stand up for myself, I knew he’d be right there behind me if things didn’t go to plan. And I desperately needed that, because as I stepped inside the house, I was suddenly not so sure I was going to be able to say everything I needed to say.
Walking lightly through the foyer, I could see my mom with her back to me sitting at the kitchen counter. The way she was breathing seemed different, almost abnormal. My mom was often rather confident, bordering on being a complete bitch. Owning her own private and commercial cleaning business, she’d worked her ass off to build from the bottom to where she was now, even having several teams of people she’d employed working under her.
Mom was a hard woman, she had her views, and she didn’t sway from them often. She was overprotective and could be a little judgmental, but she was my mom.
When she cuddled me if I was scared, she made me feel special and safe. She never let me
or my brother go without even if that meant giving up something she wanted. Pushing me to achieve the things in life that I dreamed of, she stood strong. And all in all, she did it on her own.
“Mom?”
Her body jumped at the sound of my voice, and she spun around, her hand pressed to her heart. With my brows pulled together, I moved further into the kitchen and into the light.
“Geez, Meyah, I almost died,” she scolded with a narrowed gaze. “Don’t sneak around like that.”
I licked my dry lips, my churning stomach doing nothing to help with the flood of emotions I was feeling right at that moment. Fortunately, she’d had a lot more practice at this than I had. She stood up and held her arms out to me. I didn’t even think twice rushing forward and burying my face in her neck, inhaling her smell.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, holding my body tightly and pressing her lips to my hair.
“I know, Mom,” I reassured her, linking my fingers together behind her back. “I’m sorry, too. I pushed too hard.”
She shook her head leaning back so that she could see my eyes. “No. You were right.” She inhaled deeply through her nose before releasing the air back out of her mouth. “Hearing what Nick had done and knowing that wasn’t the first time he’d said things, or touched you without your permission, it was like a slap on the face. Then everything else on top of that…” A shudder ran through her entire body, surprising me.
“Mom…”
She shook her head, silencing me. “I should have given you the skills a long time ago to handle these things. I should have never let you think you ever had to cower away from a man and not stand up for yourself.” She squeezed my hands tightly, her eyes sparkling with something so fierce and beautiful.
I grinned, a smile beaming on my face knowing she was finally getting it. My mom was finally hearing me.
Ham had been right—go figure.
I needed to talk to her. If something had happened before we’d had the chance to have this conversation, I would have spent forever regretting it.
She released me, and I pulled back finally noticing the shoe box on the kitchen counter and the mess spread around it.
“God, Mom, when did you become a hoarder?”
She pursed her lips together wiggling them back and forth as if she was seriously considering her answer to that question. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh. “I guess I owe you an explanation, and you’re old enough now to hear it.”
My eyes focused in on something in her hand. She was gently rubbing the edges of it with her fingers and holding it close to her body.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the object. I noticed the way her shoulders slumped, her gaze following my finger to the picture.
Mom blew out a long, exhausting breath of air like she was trying to expel some kind of demon or smoke from her lungs. It was something she did when she was angry or frustrated. She would take these deep breaths and blow them out, over and over, until she felt like she had a grip on the situation. “Come and sit down for a second,” she insisted, patting the wooden stool next to her and spinning back toward the breakfast bar. “I want to show you something.”
Her voice was different than usual. It seemed weak, a little bit broken maybe, and that made my already aching heart twist a little more. I hurried over pulling myself up onto the stool and finally getting a look at the picture she’d been holding onto so tightly. She pushed all the other papers and things away leaving a clean space and placed it on the marble counter and sliding it toward me.
I picked it up gently with my fingers, the picture looking like it was reasonably old. “I don’t get it,” I said quietly as I examined the photo. It was taken on the Las Vegas strip in front of the Las Vegas sign. We’d been down there a couple of times during summer vacations and done all the touristy things. “Who is that?” I asked curiously, pointing at the young woman in the picture. Her hair was straight and inky black and cut into a sharp bob. It had this Catherine Zeta-Jones in Chicago vibe, but maybe just a little longer and minus the sixties style clothing. She was wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes and a sparkling blue bikini top.
I turned to look at Mom, and she had an amused smile on her face. “That’s me, you weirdo.” She laughed. “Who else would it be?”
I leaned back, my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open. “Excuse me, but when did you ever have black hair?” I asked, narrowing my eyes on her straight, ashy blonde locks.
“I wasn’t always a parent, you know,” she replied with a splash of sarcasm in her voice. “Before your grandparents died, I had a different life, one where I went out and had fun.”
Taking a couple of breaths, I tried to calm myself, but it wasn’t just the hair and the fact she was dressed like a hussy that were my only concerns.
She wasn’t the only person in the picture.
There was a man with her.
My mom was tucked into his body, her arms wrapped around his waist while his face was turned to the side and dipped to her ear. His arm hung around her neck and over her shoulder casually, but also kind of like he was showing everyone who she belonged to.
“That’s your dad,” she whispered, leaning in closely and peering over my shoulder at the photo with a nostalgic look on her face. I heard the words she’d said. I think in my mind, I already knew who he was before she said it, but I still felt my stomach try to leap up and out of my mouth.
He had dark glasses on, and with the way he was turned away from the camera, most of his face was hidden, but I still examined every inch that I could see. The short, spiky beard which covered his jawline and mouth I imagined was probably tickling the hell out of my mom’s face, and I wondered if that’s why her smile was so huge.
“Is he kissing you?” I inquired, my voice soft with awe and interest.
Mom sat back, her hand going to her mouth to cover her laughter like she was shocked it had bubbled up unexpectedly. She composed herself and cleared her throat. “Um… no… he was just whispering—”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. I held up my hand screwing up my nose in disgust. “Um, no… do not finish that, please.”
My mom, the fucking prude, about to tell me about what my father was whispering in her ear that had her looking so bright and excited. I could already tell from the look of him, his leather jacket, his tattoos, and his denim jeans, he was not likely to be the type to be whispering sweet nothings.
“Hold on one second. Are you trying to tell me you were in a relationship with a biker?” I asked accusingly, given all the shit she’d given my Uncle Leo and the club. I lifted the picture closer to my face and narrowed my eyes, searching for any sign of a club emblem.
“One… don’t talk to me with that tone,” she scolded, jabbing me in the ribs and making me almost leap up off the stool. “And no, we were not in a relationship. I knew Huntsman for all of three days.”
“You hussy!”
“Meyah Kimberly Benson!”
I cringed at the use of my full name. “Come on, Mom, I need more. Don’t cut me off now that you’ve finally decided to share. Was this why you were so upset the other night when you said…” the words were right on my tongue, but I didn’t want to repeat them.
Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. “You’d always been such a good girl. You’re smart, you have common sense, and you never felt like you had to follow the pack to fit in. Then all of a sudden, it was like overnight something changed. You were fighting, arguing back, breaking things, and riding on motorcycles. Just when I thought you’d never be like him, it was like all of a sudden, I saw your dad.”
I kept my eyes focused on the photo in front of me committing it to memory, analyzing from my father’s shaggy wavy hair that somewhat resembled my own and not my mom’s, right down to the intricate and unique tattoo that covered the back of his hand.
It was like the crosshairs of a gun. The round outside clearly that of the scope on a rifle, and what looked like a deer standing in a meadow about t
o be shot. It was detailed and specific, one I was sure must have been drawn precisely to his specifications to fit so perfectly and to match his name.
“I want to know more,” I told her, looking up and meeting her worried eyes. “Please, I just want to know how you met and what happened.”
Mom’s heavy sigh told me that she was apprehensive, her body slumped against the kitchen counter. But I grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight pleading silently for her to give me something more when I’d gone my whole life knowing nothing.
She nodded and squeezed my hand back. “I was working in a bar in Las Vegas earning some major dollars during summer before I went back to college—”
“College!”
“Meyah! Are you going to listen or not?”
I felt like my heart was going to explode, and my brain was beginning to hurt. I wondered if Mom would be offended if I started taking notes so I could remember this all later. But I decided it was probably better if I listened and tried to take in as much as possible.
Making a show of zipping my lips closed, I waved at her to continue. She narrowed her eyes at me skeptically, but I just smiled.
“Yes, he was part of a club. But I’m telling you this now, Meyah, going looking for him would be a really bad idea,” she warned, her eyes glistening. “They aren’t like your uncle, and his friends, they’re more the ‘if you look at me wrong, I’m going to pack you into the trunk of a car and bury you in the desert’ kind of guys. I’m not giving you this information so you can use it. I’m giving it to you because I know you’re curious, and the other night I made a mistake. I’m hoping this will help you understand why I was so upset. And I’m hoping that just maybe you will be satisfied with what I have to say and not go looking.”
She looked completely serious, maybe even a little frightened.
“I can’t promise that until you tell me everything. I want to know everything that happened. Especially why he chose not to be in my life,” I reasoned, knowing there was much more to tell. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Mom. I need to hear it all. And I need you to tell me the truth. You made your choices, it’s time for me to make mine.”