“Eli talked a family in the club into taking me in,” Dust says. “They fostered me until I turned eighteen then let me live with them until I could support myself.”
It makes more sense now. “And then you joined the club?”
“And then I joined the club,” he confirms.
We’re in a quiet neighborhood. The type where even the squirrels are mute. A car ambles by, doing the speed limit, and I wonder if Dad hit me so hard that I died.
I swallow and tell Dust the truth, because I think he’ll understand. “I’m scared.”
“I was, too, but I’m not anymore. I understand that relying on strangers is terrifying, but the people Mia is going to introduce you to are the real deal. They want to help. You just have to decide to let them in.”
I breathe in deeply, then let out an even longer breath. When will life be easy?
“The unknown is scary,” Dust says. “It’ll help if you have some ‘known’ to pull you through. I’ll drag Razor and Breanna up once a week to visit you, and I’ve heard you and Violet have become closer. I can bring her up, too.”
I nibble on my bottom lip. Razor and Breanna will be in Snowflake for a few weeks, but they plan on leaving soon for the northeast. Breanna wants to be settled in before she starts her fancy Ivy League university, and Razor is supposed to be opening a new MC chapter and expanding the security company. Violet will visit, but she and Chevy are planning on a road trip before they begin college in the fall.
“I’d like that,” I say. “But if they aren’t available, or can’t come, will...you?”
“Yes,” he says. “As long as you want me, I’ll visit.”
I close my eyes, as this is the first time in months that I feel like I’ve heard something I can truly trust. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
I reopen my eyes, and Dust and I fall into a comfortable silence as we stare out at the world. It’s weird how things change, how plans fall apart then new ones come together. Twenty-four hours ago, I had plans to leave town and leave behind everything in my life. I had plans to be forever alone. Now? I might be able to keep some parts of my life, like my friends, and not be alone. And I have a new friend, and his name is Dust.
“It’s going to be okay now, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, and he glances over at me as if I’m someone worth looking at. “It is.”
Chapter 25
Eli
Isaiah likes Nina. Every time she talks, he pays attention, and he often cracks a grin. I don’t blame him. The woman is a born storyteller. Better than any bar-hugging brother in the club can spin a tale. The way she talks about my brother James brings him to life so vividly that part of me expects to turn and find him walking from the clubhouse to join us.
His body might not be here, but with each story Nina tells, I can feel his spirit. For that, I will forever be grateful.
We sit in a circle of lawn chairs in the yard, near the clubhouse and under the shade of the trees. It’s evening, the sun has started to set in the sky, and the white Christmas lights hanging from the limbs above us twinkle.
Beside me, Nina leans forward in her chair and is explaining how James used to beg her to cut class in high school, and how one time, when things went bad on their way out of school, they spent an entire class period hidden in the boys’ locker room to keep from getting caught. Isaiah laughs at parts of the story, and he reaches over and takes his girlfriend Rachel’s hand.
It was an unconscious movement. One he makes often. Touches her when he has a burst of emotion. He gravitates toward her and she’s always there. An ever-present rock. Rachel’s shorter than Isaiah, and at first glance, she appears as if she could be fragile. But it didn’t take us long to realize that if we looked at Isaiah the wrong way, she’d take us out faster than a sniper in a war zone.
Good thing for us, she likes Nina’s stories as well. Rachel also took to Cyrus. She was gracious enough to flip through my mom’s photo albums full of baby pictures of my brother and me, and Rachel was a willing ear for Cyrus’s long-winded stories of our misspent youth.
It’s been a good day, but it’s gone by too fast. I was grateful when Isaiah agreed to stay for lunch, and even more grateful he’s agreed to stay for dinner. Oz’s parents, Rebecca and Man O’ War, and Razor’s dad and soon-to-be stepmom are manning the grill. The scent of barbecue lingers in the air and causes my mouth to water.
Oz, Razor, Violet and Breanna have been beelining it back and forth between the kitchen and the long row of picnic tables they put together with dishes, cups and large trays of sides. Everyone has stayed back to give me, Dad, Nina, Emily, and Chevy the opportunity to talk with Isaiah and Rachel.
The teens laugh hysterically at the ending of Nina’s story. With a dazzling smile on her face, Nina glances over in my direction, and I nod back in gratitude. She’s the reason this day has been a success.
“Dinner will be ready soon!” Rebecca calls from the picnic tables, and that’s our cue to start moving in the direction of the food.
Most everyone stands, and Rachel attaches herself to Emily’s side, asking her to explain again the events of last summer when I was shot. Emily recounts the story for the second time, telling the truth at every turn, while reassuring Rachel that she feels safe being around the club and that she and Isaiah should feel safe, too.
We’ve been honest with Isaiah and Rachel. Emily has taught me to do that. There are ugly things in my past, ugly parts of the club’s history, but we’re trying to do better going forward. Isn’t that all any of us can do?
Chevy wraps an arm around Violet’s shoulder as the two of them and Cyrus head for the picnic tables. I glance over, and I’m surprised to find Isaiah still in his seat. I imagine the world finds him terrifying. Tall, tattoos, broad-shouldered, earrings, black shirt, ripped blue jeans and boots built to kick.
Isaiah intimidates me, not because of his appearance, but because he’s my nephew— close to a grown man—and I want so badly for him to like this family. He may not need us, but we need him. Badly. So much has happened over the past eighteen years; so much has happened in the past year alone. It’s time for the bruises and cuts to mend, and I’d like him to be a part of that healing.
“Thank you for coming out,” I say. “It’s meant a lot to this family.” To me.
Isaiah shifts forward, the pose indicating a man on a hunt for real knowledge. “Is it true? None of you had any idea about me?”
Cyrus and Nina have both told him the truth already, but if I were him, I’d be doing the same thing—digging deeper.
“The way I see it,” Isaiah continues, “everyone around here looks at you as their leader. It’s nothing they said, nothing they overtly did, but it’s the subtle stuff that matters. A leader is who people look at when someone cracks a joke or when a moment gets serious. The glance is quick. Most people don’t notice they do it or when someone else does it, but it’s there, and they all look at you.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I’m grateful he keeps going. “I need to know, man to man, did any of you know about me?”