“Stormy’s got issues. Fuck knows what they are, but though he doesn’t always show it, he lives for the club. He needs us, but I think he’s forgotten how much. You say he shouldn’t be a member, well, I agree with that.” I’m full on glaring at her by this point. “Why not bounce him back down to prospect? Give him six months. Let him reprove his loyalty to the brotherhood. Let him remember what it’s like to be one for all and not all for one. If he can’t do it and fails to regain our trust, he’s out.”
Prospect? I got by last time, but again? No, I can’t do that. How can I prove trust and loyalty when I have none left? I don’t fucking trust myself.
There’s another punishment loaded on top. A beatdown. Yeah, I can cope with that. That holds no worries for me. A bit of pain might be what I deserve, but to lose my patch and replace it with one that reads Prospect? Hell to the no for that.
But my fate has been decided.
“Right. Prospect.” Drummer jerks his chin toward and pointedly at the door. “Leave us. Prospects are not allowed in church.” Drummer’s smirk broadens as he reminds me.
Taken by surprise, I open my mouth then snap it back shut, knowing they won’t listen to anything I say. While multiple pairs of narrowed eyes stare at me, slowly I place my palms on the tabletop and push myself to my feet. Throwing an especially vicious glare toward Swift, I move to the door, open it and step out, slamming it loudly behind me.
I keep on walking. As I pass by reception, I take off my cut and throw it down on the floor to Brute’s astonishment. The look on my face stops him from asking any questions. I go straight out to my bike with only the clothes I’m wearing and take off.
11
Cat…
“How are your mom and dad?”
Weston sneers. “Same as fuckin’ always.”
“You’ve seen them?”
My cousin’s face tells me he has. I turn away, busying my hands making coffee. His disgruntlement shows he’s probably tried to tap them for money, but whatever they once had, had gone into his hands long ago. I love my aunt and uncle. Their son? Not so much. If he’s here to try to get me to finance whatever hairbrained scheme he’s come up with now, I won’t be giving him anything.
“You able to go back to wrestling?” He was about to turn pro before he went inside. He’s still big, but my assessing eyes tell me he’s not as muscular as he was before. Still formidable, I remind myself. When he comes out and says what he wants, I’ll have to let him down gently. That I’m a woman and a relative won’t stop him from using his fists. I shudder but try to suppress it. I’ve felt those hands on me many times while we were growing up.
“Nah. I got a job.”
That surprises me. I pause with the coffee pot in my hand. “That sounds good. Doing what?” I wonder if it’s something his probation officer had arranged for him.
“Mind your fuckin’ business.”
Turning back to my task, I roll my eyes. A movement out of the window catches my eye, and I see Star kicking up his heels and tearing around his paddock. Crazy horse, my lips curve as he distracts me from my unwelcome visitor. Wonder what he’s seen now. Which reminds me, I’ve got to go to the store and get some winter feed. Won’t be too long before I need it.
Caspar, my, well my mom’s white German Shepard who I’ve adopted comes to sit by my side, looking up hopefully, in case I get out cookies and drop a few crumbs. He’s going to be out of luck. I’ll give Weston a coffee, but nothing else, and hope it’s not too long before he realises he’s not welcome and leaves.
I finish the coffee, pass him his cup, pushing sugar and creamer over. I note I was right, he’s clearly not in training now, not if the way he takes three spoonfuls of sweetener is anything to go by.
Having prepared his drink to his liking, he pushes the cup to one side. I just wish he’d hurry up and drink it. He’s so big, he makes the house seem small.
“I bet you miss your parents,” he observes, glancing around. “You haven’t done much with the place.”
They’ve only been gone a few months. Well, that’s not strictly true. Dad had died twelve months back having gotten the worst of an argument with some of the farm machinery. He’d bled out before anyone found him. Mom, well, I came back to visit for the funeral and ended up having to stay. The obstinate woman hadn’t previously told me, but she was battling with cervical cancer, having missed out on her pap smears. By the time it was diagnosed, it was almost too late. Maybe even then she would have had a chance if she’d been willing to fight, but the loss of my father seemed to sap her will to live. I was their only daughter, and a nurse with a job in the city. Although oncology wasn’t my speciality, I could care for her, and alone, she certainly needed that. So I took the only path open to me. I swapped providing care to strangers to nursing her. She’d died just four months past.
Since her death, I’ve been stuck in limbo. I miss them. I still haven’t come to terms with their loss.
There was no will, and I was an only child so the farm had come to me. I could have sold the place and gone back to the city, but I felt close to them here, and something was stopping me from moving on. Again I gaze out of the window. The bulk of the land we’d sold off to neighbouring farmers while Mom had still been alive. It was too much for an invalid and a nurse to keep going. But the paddocks I kept for Star, my childhood pony now retired, though the way he kicks up his heels belies it, along with the barn and the chickens.
I hadn’t consciously made my home here, I couldn’t afford to stay long term for a start. The upkeep while having no job makes it impossible. I’ve always known I would have to move on, but while I still had some savings, I couldn’t find the impetus to leave. It was like I was abandoning my parents somehow. This farmhouse had been in my family since my great-grandfather had built it. I’m the last of the line. As normal, the thought saddens me.
“You going to sell it?” Weston asks me, as though he can read my mind.
Suspicious of his motives, he’s not entitled to anything of mine, I turn back to him. “I’m not sure. I suppose so, eventually.”
The gleam in his eyes suggests he’s wondering how he could work me coming into money to his own advantage. I suppress a shiver. I don’t need to know that he’d spent the last few years inside to know he’s not a decent human being. Growing up, we’d been thrown together, and he was an absolute bully.
I stop being polite and ask him directly, “Why are you here, Weston?”
There’s a shifty look in his eyes. “Can’t a cousin come to see one of his only remaining relatives?”
I shrug. “We’ve never been close.”
“Well, maybe that should change. I’m a different man now, after…” His voice trails off, but his expression becomes bitter.
He must be alluding to going inside. Sure, he’s changed, like hell. He’s just like the proverbial leopard and nothing will alter his spots.
“Hey,” he gentles his voice, “it’s been years, Catherine. I thought it would be good for us to catch up. My parents asked how you were doing. It made me realise I haven’t seen you for a long time. Why don’t I take you out for dinner?”