A long, steaming hot shower helped a bit in setting me back to rights, and by the time I got out, dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt I’d found on the floor that smelled clean enough, and headed out to the garage to spend a little time on the Chevelle, I was feeling relatively normal. In spite of the lingering throb behind my eyeballs. I could have popped a couple aspirin, but I figured this was my penance. It was my own damn fault I felt like I’d been run over by a tractor-trailer, after all.
I hooked my phone up to the Bluetooth speaker I had set up in the garage, scrolled to my playlist, and got to work.
Five minutes in, karma decided it wanted to give me a bitch slap in case I’d forgotten what a prick I was, and Rage Against the Machine’s “Bulls on Parade” started cranking out of the speaker.
Just like that, I recalled how Rage was screaming out of Willow’s earbuds when I ran into her at the grocery store. I’d been shocked to hear her listening to something like that. It just seemed so out of character. Then again, I was quickly discovering that the woman was full of surprises.
I couldn’t bring myself to skip to the next song, so I let it play out as I bent over the engine compartment and got to work.
I worked straight through lunch without even noticing, and if it hadn’t been for the alarm I’d set going off when it was time to leave, I’d probably have kept going well past dusk.
I let out a sharp whistle, calling Chief, who’d been crashed out on the dog bed I kept out here for him, and together we headed inside.
I washed up really quick at the kitchen sink and tossed Chief a treat before heading out the door and climbing on my bike.
The second I came rumbling up Scooter and Caro’s driveway, their front door opened and my nephew came rushing out with all the speed and energy of a tornado.
“Uncle Stone!” he shouted as he launched himself at me. I barely had time to climb off my bike before I had to hold my arms out to catch him.
Swinging him in a circle, I tossed him up in the air, eliciting a hyper squeal before bringing him back down and resting him on my hip.
“Hey there, monster. How you doin’?” I asked as I carried him up the walkway and toward the door he’d just rushed out of.
“Good! Can you take me for a ride on your bike?”
I arched a brow at him as I pulled the screen door open and stepped into the house. “You ask your mom?”
“Yes,” he answered so fast I couldn’t help but be suspicious.
“Really?”
His face fell in a frown so cute I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “No. ’Cause I know she won’t let me.”
“You got that right, kid,” Shane said, coming out of the kitchen while wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You already have to wear a helmet in the house because you keep plowing into walls. You aren’t getting on a motorcycle until you’re bigger.”
“You know, you could just put carpet down to prevent that from being an issue,” I told her as I put Brantley back on the ground. In an instant, he took off like a shot down the hallway, skidding and sliding on the floors. A second later, we heard a loud bang that made my sister and me wince. “I’m okay!” he called out right after.
“Less traction means he’s less likely to slam into the wall every time he runs around a corner.”
“Believe me. It’s something I’m considering.”
“At least we know the kid’ll probably have a promising career as a pro football player. Christ knows he can take a hit to the head.”
She moved in close to me on a giggle and raised up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on my cheek. “Glad you could make it.”
I gave her a quick squeeze before letting her go so she could take a step back. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”
She gave me a skeptical look. “Yeah. And I’m sure my threats didn’t have anything to do with it, huh?”
I hooked one side of my mouth up in a smirk as I threw my arm over her shoulder and began dragging her toward the kitchen where all the delicious smells were coming from. “Never said that. You’re downright fucking terrifying.”
“Amen to that, brother,” Jensen declared, extending his arm to hand me the beer he’d just pulled out of the fridge.
My stomach twisted unpleasantly at the sight of it, but I took it anyway, giving my brother-in-law a fist bump in greeting before twisting off the cap and taking a sip as Shane moved into her man and punched him lightly in the gut as he pulled her against him.
“Watch it,” she threatened playfully.
Aunt Caroline entered the kitchen a second later and threw her arms out. “You’re here!” she exclaimed as she rounded the island for a hug. Her excitement made me feel like absolute shit. I’d been living in the same town as my family for close to a year now, but I saw them so infrequently that something like showing up for a family dinner was cause enough for a celebration.
I really needed to do better.
“Hey, Aunt Caro,” I said as I leaned down to wrap my arms around her.
Uncle Scooter came by next, clapping me on the back. “Glad you could make it, son. Now let’s eat before my stomach starts munchin’ on my liver, already.”
As long as I’d been gone, sitting at their table for a meal still felt as familiar as drawing in breath. Back when Shane and I had lived with them, we’d eaten dinner at this very table every single night. I hadn’t appreciated the purpose behind it back then, being a jackass of a kid with my head up my own ass. But looking back, I knew what they were doing when they made us eat with them every night and tell them every aspect of our day.
They wanted us to know we belonged. That this was our safe place. And I’d only realized I’d taken that for granted once it was too late.
Like always, the meal passed with good conversation and a ton of laughs. The food was fantastic and worked wonders on my stomach, which had been battling me all damn day.
I was comfortably full and totally relaxed when my uncle decided it was the perfect time to drop the hammer.
“So, Stone, Fletch told me he spotted you outside Bad Alibi Friday night with your tongue down that Thorne girl’s throat. What’s that about?”
I’d just taken a sip of my beer and proceeded to choke as every set of eyes at the table shot to me.
“You were what?” Jensen asked, looking rather unhappy.
“I knew it!” Shane shouted. Unlike her husband, she had a shit-eating grin on her face.
“Eww, gross!” was Brantley’s reaction. “Why would you wanna put your tongue in a girl’s mouth? Girls are nasty!”
“I’ll explain when you’re older, son,” Jensen told him.
“Christ,” I grunted once I was able to breathe again. “Can anyone in this fu”—I swallowed down my curse when Shane shot me a murderous look and jerked her chin toward her son—“in this town keep their mouths shut?”
“It’s Redemption, son,” Scooter said with a shrug, like that explained it all. “It’s a small town, and you were right out in the open. What did you expect?”
“So does this mean you’re together now?” Shane cut in, practically vibrating in her chair. “You’re officially a couple?”