“Not always gonna be fun, baby. Ask anyway.”
I nodded, my cheek sliding against his skin then I asked, “Why didn’t you go to your grandparents after your folks died?”
His arm around my back moved up, his fingers tangling in my hair then drifting through before he answered.
“Don’t know. Mom and Dad made provisions. They picked my uncle. I figure they didn’t get my uncle was weak or they never woulda left us to that. Mom didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Her mom and dad were divorced. Gramps lived up in Wyoming. Mom grew up there until her folks divorced, and Grams moved them down to Denver ’cause she found a job here. Grams was cool, she was also around, took Lan and me to dinner, out to do shit. We never shared how bad it was ’cause we were kids. We didn’t know how, and by the time we could the damage was done. That said, I think she knew shit was not good ’cause she was around as often as she could be. Gramps was cool too. He wasn’t around as much ’cause he was in Wyoming. But he came down, got me my first bike for my fourteenth birthday, a dirt bike. He also gave me my first Harley, bought it thirdhand from a friend, fixed it up, got a buddy to help him bring it down to me. I’m still tight with both of ’em, even though he’s still up in Wyoming and she moved to Arizona a few years ago. Dad’s parents moved to California when he was in college. We didn’t see ’em as much and still don’t.”
“Until you mentioned your grams the other day, I’d never heard you mention them,” I noted.
“There’s no reason for that, sugar. They just never came up.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and offered, “You get to a place where you can take some time off, I’ll drive you up to meet my gramps. He’ll like you.”
“That’ll be cool,” I replied softly.
“Maybe, if Lan can get the time, we can all go down to Arizona this winter. Get away from the cold. See Grams.”
I smiled again. “That’ll be cool too.”
“It’s a plan,” he muttered.
Yeah, it was.
I pressed closer, took in a deep breath, then said what I had to say to get it out of the way, “You don’t wanna talk about it, we won’t. I’m just going to say, I’m gonna have a chat with Dad—”
He closed his arms tight around me and cut me off by saying, “Tabby, baby, look at me.”
I lifted my head to look at him and I saw his eyes serious on me.
“He’s gotta decide, as my brother, if he trusts me. Not you gettin’ in his face and puttin’ pressure on, not you takin’ time to explain it rationally. I made the decision I wanted to join. I approached them. When I did, I put myself out there so, before they took me on, they knew everything about me. I did my time as a recruit. I do my part at the shop and in the garage. I take my orders when they come and I have never questioned them. When I get the call, I take a brother’s back and I never question that either. I have not given them one reason to question me. I get where your father is at. I also know he’s gotta get his shit together, think this through as a brother as well as a father and make the right decision. What I said at the Compound today is the God’s-honest truth. I didn’t become a member of the Club to have anyone tellin’ me how to live my life. So that’s a brother thing, Tab, and, it sucks if you don’t like it but that’s how it’s gotta be.”
I lived the life all my life, I knew enough to know this was true, so I nodded.
Shy kept going. “More, he’s gotta come to terms with the fact that his only girl is all grown up and he’s gotta give her the freedom to live her own life. What he’s doin’ to me is uncool. I get him bein’ angry. He thought we were hidin’ for the wrong reasons. But what he’s doin’ to you is more uncool. What he needs to get is that there are now parts of your life that are none of his business. I am not a father. I don’t know how it feels to let go of a child in that way, especially your only girl. What I do know is, I acted on assumptions about shit about you years after it happened, it was wrong and… justified… I lost you. Now, he’s doin’ the same thing seven f**kin’ years after it happened, and he’s gotta clue in you’re not that girl pullin’ shit because things with your mom are extreme. You’re an adult making decisions about your future, and you get to decide when you’ll share.”
That was the damned truth.
“You’re right,” I agreed.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly.
“Okay, I’ll let it be,” I gave in, and his lips curved as his eyes got soft and his arms gave me a squeeze.
“Thanks, baby.”
I smiled at him. Then I tipped my head to the side and asked, “What was that with Hop at the Compound?”
His eyes held mine, he waited a beat, then he shared, “Hop is nailin’ Lanie.”
I blinked.
Lanie was Tyra’s best friend. Lanie was the one who lost her fiancé when all that crazy stuff went down that eventually got Tyra kidnapped and stabbed. Lanie had moved to Connecticut to lick her wounds after Elliott, her fiancé, got whacked and Lanie got shot. She did that until Tyra flew out there, gave her some honesty, and then Lanie moved back.
Lanie was tall, slender, and model gorgeous. She also made a lot of money, she ran her own advertising agency, was pure class, and could be (frequently) pure drama.
What she was not, in any way, was Hop’s type.
“You’re kidding me,” I breathed.
“Nope. They’re hidin’ it too. Don’t know why, but I do know neither Tack nor Cherry know shit.” He grinned. “Not the same as bangin’ one of the brother’s daughters, but figure they’re hidin’ it for a reason. Also, whatever they got is not runnin’ smooth. I heard them goin’ at it in his room at the Compound. Was in the hall when I saw her strut out, pissed as all f**k, Hop tearin’ out after her, not looking any happier. He saw me so he knows I know. We had a chat, he told me to keep it under wraps, I have not said shit.”
“I… I don’t know what to do with that,” I told him. “Has Lanie been with anyone since that Elliott guy?”
Shy smiled and replied, “I’m not one of her bitches, so I have no clue. I just know he’s had her in his bed a while.”
“Oh God,” I whispered, “Ty-Ty might freak.”
“Don’t know why, he’s a good guy,” Shy remarked.