by Jamie Begley
Ginny held back from confronting them overtly, demanding to be let back into their lives, like the angry, grief-stricken child she had been when she was forced to leave. Instead, she had left the choice of seeing her to them, fearful of being permanently barred from them forever.
Swallowing the thick lump in her throat, Ginny got out of the car. The house had been painted since she visited at Christmas.
She had come here many times after getting her license, so many times that she’d lost count. Each visit had been accompanied with a gift and a prayer for a different outcome than her previous visits.
Yet another prayer that had gone unanswered.
She had stood outside that door, begging them to just let her come inside to talk, only to be met with complete silence. Uncomfortable and forlorn at being ostracized, Ginny had left just as she had arrived—alone.
The large house held so much love within. She had ached for it every day since it had been denied to her. Had they even missed her? Had they even opened the presents she left on their doorstep every Christmas? Opened the birthday cards she sent? The uncashed checks contained another painful reminder of them each time she looked at her bank balance.
Encasing her heart in steel, Ginny walked to the front of the car, raising her voice so that her brothers could hear every word she said. “I love you, but I can’t keep doing this. If you don’t come out this time, I won’t be back.”
The wind above stirred the trees’ bare limbs, making a mockery of the stillness from inside.
Looking away from the house when her brothers didn’t come barreling out, Ginny took one last look around the side of the mountain that had been her playground. The tree where she parked the car next to still held the bullseye target that Silas had hung; he’d taught her to use the same bow he learned on. The small wooden shelter that Jacob taught her to build when she was eleven years old was still standing, despite being covered with vines and old leaves. Walking to the small pit where Isaac taught her to build a fire without matches and where they celebrated her success by toasting marshmallows on a stick, held nothing but the ashes of just one more memory that was going to have to last her for a lifetime without the opportunity to make more.
Her family taught her every possible survival skill, yet nothing could have prepared her for being stonewalled by the ones she loved the most. As much as she had succeeded without them, it didn’t make them any less important to her as the years passed.
Walking back to the car, she glanced once again at the empty porch. Ginny remembered the first day Freddy brought her here. How scared, sullen, and alone she felt. That whole first month, she must have called Will a hundred times to come and get her, yet the Colemans had showered her with love until, gradually, as the months passed, the calls became fewer and fewer. She had grown to accept and return the love they had unselfishly given to her.
The excited expectations she began the day with were dampened with the fear of Gavin never being emotionally ready to have a new woman in his life. However, coming here was restoring her optimism about Gavin. Planning to pay forward the unconditional love and understanding she had been given in her life to Gavin would steadily lift the bleakness from finding out the details of the horrors that he had survived.
Ginny cut the thought off sharply. Her family’s love had boosted her during the darkest days after she had to leave and it had carried through until now. Gavin’s torture had been so extreme that he wasn’t able to find his way out of the darkness, even with the help of The Last Riders. He wouldn’t be reaching out for any emotional connection, regardless of any attraction he felt toward her.
The wind stopped blowing, creating an eerie quietness that extended toward the house, despite there being three trucks parked outside. They were going to let her leave again.
Squeezing her eyes closed at the heartache, Ginny started for the side of her car when the unnatural stillness was broken by a scent that had her nose twitching at the appetizing aromas coming from an open window.
She ground her teeth in anger that they were uncaringly sitting down to eat at the same table she had shared with them so many times, while her heart was breaking in two. That anger had her striding toward the porch. She had already decided this would be her last attempt to heal the breach between them. There was nothing left to lose; her fear of losing them forever removed the obstacle holding her back.
Her temper, provoked by the slight they were giving her, had her raising a hand to pound on the door. Before her knuckles connected with the wood, the smell of what was cooking inside became discernable, invoking a faint memory from her subconsciousness. It was her first Christmas morning with them, and Leah had woken her up to open Christmas presents.
When they ran out of their bedroom, Ginny thought they would go down the stairs to see the gifts Santa had left behind. However, Leah grabbed her hand as she instead ran toward Freddy’s room and flung the door open. Afraid of getting in trouble, Ginny tore her hand free as Leah shouted out in excitement. “Wake up, Pa. Ginny and I want to open our presents!” She dove on top her sleeping father’s mattress.
Freddy groaned, then started laughing as he wrapped Leah into a hug. “Santa called and said he wouldn’t be here for a couple more hours. Go back to sleep.”
“Nuh-uh. I don’t believe you. You just want to go back to sleep.” Leah giggled when her pa started tickling her.
Envying Leah, Ginny held back at the door self-consciously.
Freddy looked up, seeing her, and patted the bed next to Leah.
At the invitation, Ginny laughingly ran toward the bed.
“Why didn’t you come in with Leah?”
“I didn’t want to get in trouble for not knocking.” Squirming from Freddy’s tickling fingers, she nearly toppled off the bed. With a quick reflex Freddy caught her, scooting over so she had more room.
“Daughter, family doesn’t haven’t to knock; all you have to do is open the door.”
As the memory replayed in her memory, she dropped her hand to the doorknob, her anger turning into despair. She missed her brothers. They might not be related by blood, but they were as much a part of her as Trudy.
Turning the knob, the door easily swung open.
Tears rose to her eyes at what she saw waiting for her on the other side of the door. All her brothers were lined up, waiting for her in the living room, except for Silas, who was sitting on the bricks of the large fireplace, his face buried in his hands.
She walked over the threshold, and he lifted his head. His haggard expression showed how difficult it had been for him to remain inside the house.
“Why, Silas?”
Standing, his face revealed how much he had missed her and the pain it had cost him. “The door was always open for you; all you had to do was come inside. There were never any locked doors between us and you. The only thing keeping you out was you doubting our love. How many doorways have you walked through without waiting for the door to be opened to you? Yet, with your own, you used it to keep yourself apart from us.”
The truth stung. Feeling guilty, she moved her eyes away from him to the long line where her other brothers stood. Their love and affection were apparent, making her heart clench. She didn’t deserve them. She never had.
The love and acceptance they gave her was built on lies and misconceptions. Freddy had died with the secret that he wasn’t her father; he’d only confided in Silas, leaving her other brothers in the dark. Silas had sworn never to disclose the secret, and as far as she knew, he had kept his word.
The fact that her relationships with her other brothers was built on a foundation of misconception laid heavily on her conscience. Not only had she allowed them to keep believing the falsehood that she was their biological sister, she was responsible for them losing the sister who rightfully belonged in her place.
“Leah is dead because of me. I should have been the one—”
“I’m the only one responsible for Pa and Leah’s death.” Silas’s rugged f
eatures turned stern at her words. “I’m the one who gave him the money for the ATV and I forgot the helmets. No one regrets that day more than me. I told you then that the accident was never your fault, and I didn’t want to hear you blaming yourself. I still don’t.”
Listening to Silas shoulder the blame wasn’t something she could do. “You were watching us while Pa had you going back and forth to get situated in the van. None of us made that day easy for you. We were running around the shop, trying to get on all the ATVs. It was mayhem. You and Pa should have gone alone.”
“Then it was my fault because I was the one who begged for us to go with them,” Jacob spoke up from the end of the line.
Hurt that the blame was getting passed around, she placed the guilt directly where it belonged. “I was the one who let Leah have my turn.”
The men before her were no longer young boys, having grown into adults without Leah, who deserved to be there with them. It haunted her that when Freddy allowed her into his family, his kindness to her resulted in the death of one of his own.
“Ginny …” Moses tilted his head to one side then spoke for the men beside him. “It wasn’t a choice of Leah or you. It could have easily happened after you had your turn or when I rode with him. Only one person is responsible for Leah’s death and that was Pa. He didn’t wait for Silas to come back, even though Silas had warned him to. He was our father, but he wasn’t without his faults. Silas was more of a father figure to us, and that was even before Dad died.”
A lone tear ran down out of the corner of her eye. “He was so happy that day.”
“Yes, he was. We have to remember him and Leah that way,” Silas told her. “We weren’t given a choice. There is no reasoning for death. Death comes for whom he’s meant to take, and it wasn’t for you. Do you think we would have hurt any less if it was you instead of Leah? You know how sweet and loving Leah was; don’t you think, if the positions were reversed, that she would be saying the same thing, wishing it were her?”
Ginny felt her lips tremble. Leah’s final words to her were etched into her memory.
“You’re the best sister in the world. I love you.”
Leah died believing they were sisters. She had deserved the truth, just like the rest of her brothers did.
“There is something I need to tell you.” Another tear ran down her cheek. Admitting she wasn’t their sister was the hardest thing she ever had to do, and that included standing beside Freddy’s and Leah’s graves as they were lowered into the ground. “I’m not—”
“There is no one in this family more important than the other,” Silas cut her off. “Dad taught us from the time we were old enough to sit in a highchair that I works alone, but when you put it together with others, it’s strong enough to move mountains.”
“I remember. Dad bragged he had enough children that he could move any mountain he wanted.” Ginny repeated the boast she had heard a thousand times before his death. “He loved being a father ….” She broke off, understanding what Silas was trying to tell her. If she told her brothers that she wasn’t their sister, she was disrespecting their father’s memory by taking away one of the things he was most proud of—his children. While she might not be his blood daughter, Dad had claimed her as his, and that was good enough for Silas. It had to be good enough for her too.
Ginny felt a weight fall off her shoulders. Her dad had selflessly sewn her into the fabric of their lives, showing her the love and protectiveness he had showered over each and every one of them. She couldn’t recklessly rip apart what he had stitched together.
“He was the best.” Silas pulled her into a bear hug, and Ginny laid her head on his shoulder.
“Being a good man runs in the family.” She reached up to hug him back. “I’ve missed you, Silas.” Raising her head, she lowered one arm to motion to her other brothers. “I’ve missed all of you.”
Ginny gave a squeak when she found herself swallowed in a huddle with her brothers. Isaac was the first one to jokingly pull away.
“You gained some weight since I saw you last.”
Ginny glared at him for his brotherly teasing. “No, I haven’t.”
Jacob grinned wickedly. “Looks that way to me too.”
Her youngest brother, Fynn, shouldered his way under the older ones. “Does this mean I can cash the Christmas and birthdays checks she sent me?”
Ginny gave an admonishing gaze when Moses lightly hit Fynn on the back of his head. “Yes,” Ginny told him. “Everyone can cash theirs, also, except for Isaac and Jacob. Theirs, I’m going to put a stop payment on.”
“Sis, don’t be so sensitive. You look fantastic. Doesn’t she, Jacob?” Teasing her mercilessly, Isaac hooked an arm through hers, drawing her closer to him.
Distrustfully, Ginny waited for it. She had been the brunt of his jokes too many times when they were growing up not to be wary.
“So, how’s the music career going?” Isaac asked affably, as if he was really interested.
Ginny wasn’t buying it for a second.
“Good.”
“Do you like living in Nashville?” Moses tried warding off the ragging that Isaac couldn’t resist giving her.
“No, I miss Treepoint too badly to enjoy living anywhere else,” she answered truthfully.
Isaac’s face grew solemn. Tugging her closer to his side, he brushed his cheek against the top of her head. “Then it’s about time you brought your fanny home to see us.”
Ginny couldn’t hide her battered pride. “I was about to leave.” Her voiced cracked. “I wasn’t going to come back anymore.”
“We heard. You shouted it loud enough.” Isaac dropped the teasing, which was so much of his personality, showing the forthrightness that was never far away. He never had a problem telling someone his opinion when asked, not pulling any punches to make them feel better. Growing up with him, she had quickly learned the meaning of the old adage truth hurts. “Dad would have been proud. Wouldn’t be surprised if they heard you in town.”
“You heard, and you still didn’t come outside?” Hurt cut through the joy she was feeling at being reunited with her family.
Isaac lifted her chin with a callused hand. “It hurt us just as much.”
Fynn poked Jody aside to get her attention. “Yep. Silas said you had to want to come inside, but he said there was no harm giving you an incentive.” Reaching in his jean pocket, he took out a shiny object, waving it front of her.
Ginny started laughing. “Those are my car keys.”
Fynn grinned. “Isaac was lookout while Silas had me sneak out to get them when you were looking at your shelter.”
Ginny cleared her throat. “You did?”
“Yep.” It was Fynn who answered, but it was Silas who Ginny looked at. Her brothers wouldn’t make a move without Silas’s say so.
Silas stared back at her with somber features. “You’re too stubborn not to have meant it. I know you felt as if we deserted you—me in particular—but I wanted to do what was best for you. I had a choice to make after Dad died to keep you in a bubble or let you fly and find a place you were meant to land. You were meant for more than this mountain. All of us could see it. The only one who didn’t was you.
“Every weekend when Leah came home, you begged her to bring those magazines her momma bought. Or when I used to listen to you sing upstairs in your room, yet I never heard a peep out of you when Leah or the others sang during Dad’s sermons or playing around. Didn’t you think I noticed after you finished your school lessons you would go stand on the front porch just to watch the cars go down the mountain? We had to let you go to see how high you could fly, or we would have shielded you from the very dreams you were capable of achieving for yourself. Was I wrong?”
The pain of letting her go showed plainly in his eyes, but she could also see the uncertainty that he hadn’t done the right thing.
She had been reunited with Trudy, made a lifelong bond with Willa, was singing with one of the most popular bands in the S
tates, performing songs she wrote, but the most important dream she found wouldn’t have come true on this mountain.
“No,” she admitted hoarsely. “I landed exactly where I was supposed to be.”
Chapter Six
“They’re going to freak the fuck out when they see me instead of Rider or Shade.” Reaper watched as the black limo came to a stop a few feet from Kaden Cross’ private plane.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He turned his attention from watching the lead singer of Mouth2Mouth take his wife’s hand as they exited the rented limo to give Cash a hostile glance, unable to deny the truth that he deliberately used his appearance to inspire fear and caution in others. It wasn’t as much for the shock value, merely giving a clear warning that not only was he not going to be fucked with, but if they did, the repercussions would be as extreme as his appearance suggested. Their fate would be a foregone conclusion—death. If the way he looked didn’t clue anyone into that deduction, he had several tats that spelled it out for them.
“Shade and Rider both prefer to blend in the background.” Cash’s gaze didn’t veer away from his.
“Rider blend in the background? Since when?” Rider was incapable of fading into a background if there was more than one person around. “I’m surprised he didn’t become a member of the band just to have the fans shouting for him.”
“You could have at least not worn The Last Riders’ jacket.” To give Cash credit, Reaper could tell he was trying to hold his temper at bay while still venting his frustration.
“Why shouldn’t I wear it? They’re the reason I’m forced to be here.” Reaper curtly went back to watching the various members climb out of the limo.
“A word of advice, which I’m sure Shade and Viper both gave you, if you piss Kaden off, he’ll kick your ass off the plane and not give a fuck that it’s not on the ground.”
Ax, D-Mon, and Sin piled out, none accompanied by a female companion.