“Of course.”
“Well, we’re here. We’re making the step. Stay as long as you like. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, I want you here. I need you here. And even if you’re here for that hot piece of ass, I’ll take it.”
“I’m not here for her,” I tell Ian.
“Don’t care why you stay, but it would be nice to have my brother back.”
My head’s spinning because not five minutes ago he wasn’t as friendly or welcoming.
“You’re giving me whiplash,” I say.
Ian turns toward me. “I’m still pissed sometimes. All the feelings come flooding back from when you left, but then I remind myself it was what was best for you. Pop was always hardest on you since you were the oldest. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Ian asks.
I nod before sucking down half of my beer. “I will stay for you, Ian. Maybe not forever, but at least for a long enough while that we’ll know if you’re okay. Maybe it’ll be longer, but it’s been years since I’ve stayed in one place for a stretch of time.”
“The town is different than it used to be. It’s grown. I’m sure you could find a job doing whatever it is you do. I’ll hire you at the bar if you need work.”
I stare at my brother, watching him as he fidgets. Sharing feelings had never been a strong suit in our family, and that was only amplified by the beatings our father gave us if we showed any that weren’t “manly,” which meant anger was the only acceptable emotion in his eyes.
“I’m not a bartender, man. I work with my hands. I’ll see if there’s a garage around here that needs a new mechanic. I have enough money saved to get by until after the surgery and a little beyond that. I’m in no hurry.”
“New guy bought Tank’s garage. It’s pretty damn upscale now. Maybe start there. His name’s Mammoth, and he seems pretty solid, except he’s married to—” He stops.
“To whom?” I ask.
“Tamara Gallo,” Ian mumbles.
Interesting. Do I really want to insert myself into Rosie’s world even more by working for someone in her family? They’d probably kick my ass to the curb once they knew who I was.
“The family has their claws in everything, huh?”
“Not really, but this guy does work that’ll blow your mind. He and Tamara work there with her cousin Nick, while the majority of the family stuck to Inked.”
“Maybe I’ll drop by there.”
“You should. He has no idea about our family and has always been solid to me when he’s come into the bar. Even Tamara doesn’t give a shit about what happened when we were young. It was more of an issue between our father and Rosie’s father, but it was ages ago.”
Not long enough for Rosie’s dad to forget all the anger and hatred. We deserved it, though. Not only was my dad a miserable, drunk bastard, but we were all shitheads too, raised like wild animals.
Growing up without a mother made us almost feral at times. There was never an ounce of softness or love in our house. We communicated through jabs and words that cut deep, knowing it was the only language my father understood and allowed under his roof.
It wasn’t until I got out into the world that I realized we were the exception and not the rule. People didn’t go around acting like assholes, not even the men. There was a time for anger, but it didn’t sit on your back twenty-four seven looking for a fight. The seventeen years of being away from my childhood home gave me time to grow and learn what being a man really meant.
“I’ll check it out.”
“You do that, and you can stay here as long as you want.”
I shake my head and grimace. “Too many memories for me in this place. I’ve lived on my own too long to share a space with a bunch of grown men anyway.”
“Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug. “But the offer stands.”
“While you’re welcoming, the others are not,” I remind Ian.
“They’re all jealous pricks. You had the balls to leave when they never did. Ignore them.”
“It’s what I’ve been doing. I’m here for you, not them.”
“So be it.”
“I’m going for a ride,” I tell him, climbing to my feet.
“But the storm,” he says, looking out across the horizon.
“It’s moving north. I’ll be fine.”
An hour later, I’m standing in front of Tank’s old shop. He was a biker from back in the day and could make any piece of junk run after a little elbow grease. The shop looks nothing like it did when I was a kid. It has fresh paint, new cement, and glass doors for each of the bays.
A man walks out of the open bay, wiping the grease off his hands, looking nothing like the old man who used to own the place. This guy has long hair, covered in tattoos, and has an air about him that lets me know he doesn’t like to fuck around.
“I’m looking for Mammoth,” I tell him.
“Lookin’ at him,” he bites out, shoving the grease-covered rag into his back pocket. His eyes move to my bike behind me and then back to my face. “Need work done?”
“Lookin’ for work.”
His eyes move back to my bike, studying her, passing judgment on if I’m worthy from the single glance. “You have experience?”
“Years. Been all over the country working in garages.”
He takes a deep breath, sizing me up and not just my bike. “What’s your name?”
“Dylan Walsh.”
“Dylan Walsh,” he repeats, his eyebrows knitting together. “Why do I know that name?”
I shrug. “Dunno, man. I just got back into town.”
A woman walks out behind him and stares at me, placing her hand across her forehead to block out the sweltering afternoon sun. I haven’t seen her in years, but knowing Mammoth is married to Tamara Gallo, I know it’s her, and her beautiful features that were always striking when she was younger are now more pronounced.
“Princess, this here is Dylan,” Mammoth says, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her tight against him.
Tamara instantly smiles. “Walsh,” she says with a dip of her head.
“Gallo.”
“Saint now,” she corrects me.
“Upgrade.”
She shrugs, but her smile never fades. “What brings you around here? Wanting to know more about my cousin?”
I shove my hands into my pockets because while I do want to pick her brain, I’m not here about pussy. “Lookin’ for work.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Sticking around this time?”
I rock back on my heels, hating that everyone in this town still knows everything. “Thinking about it.”
“Staying because of Ro?” she asks point-blank, getting right to the meat of the issue.
“Not entirely, but possibly.”
“Baby,” Tamara says, turning her gaze toward her husband, and it’s filled with nothing but love. “Dylan’s the one who beat the shit out of the guy who hit Rosie.”
Mammoth makes a long, slow nod. “Thank you for that,” he says to me. “Saved me the trouble of tracking him down and doing the same.”