He’s asking if we ignored his existence when his father died. That death left him and his mom alone. He’s asking if we denied him a home after his mother went to prison and he was dumped into foster care.
I pull on my earlobe then mirror his position. “Isaiah, blood means everything to this family. If we had known about you, we would have brought you and your mother here and we would have taken care of both of you. If we had found out about you later, after your mother went to prison, there’s no doubt Cyrus would have taken you in. But because we didn’t know about you, we’re on the losing end of this. You’re too old for us to swoop in and take you in, but we want you here all the same. But the choice is yours. We want you to be a part of this family. I want you to be a part of this family, and I hope you’ll allow us to be part of yours.”
Isaiah stares at me for a few beats, longer than most people can stand, then nods like he’s come to some type of conclusion. I only hope it’s in my favor. He stands, so do I and he extends his hand to me.
The warmth overtaking my body is as good as it felt the first time the doctors placed Emily in my arms. I take Isaiah’s hand, we shake and when I pull him in for a quick hug, he leans in and gives me a pat on the shoulder. I draw back and cup the side of his head. “You’re family now, and there’s nothing we won’t do for you. Anything, anytime.”
A softening in his gray eyes as he does another nod in understanding.
“Ready for some food?” I say.
Isaiah chuckles. “Do you people always eat so much around here?”
On the picnic table is enough to feed an army, and I grin. Rebecca must have given the signal for the club to arrive. “Hopefully you’ll visit enough to figure out if it’s too much food or not enough.”
His eyebrows rise. “Not enough?”
Motorcycle engines rumble in the distance and I angle my head to the road. “You’re about to find out. Isaiah, your world is about to get a lot bigger.”
He smiles, just like my brother used to, and I start to make plans. Plans I hadn’t thought I’d ever make—plans to build Isaiah his first motorcycle. He’s a McKinley, and being around us, he’s going to need it.
“What type of Harley do you like?” I ask him, and his forehead furrows.
“I’m more of a Mustang Man.”
I shake my head at him. “That’s because you’ve never been on a bike. We’re going to have to change that.”
“Fine, but if I do that, then you’re taking out a fully loaded Cobra on a drag strip. Twenty bucks you’ll be changing your mind on your mode of transportation.”
Doubt that, but I like how easy the conversation’s flowing, so I take that bet and listen as he fills me in on the car he’s currently working on at his shop.
Chapter 26
Pigpen
Caroline pulls her car into the grass next to the line of bikes, and I’m surprised when she cuts the engine.
“Thank you for helping Addison,” Dust says from the backseat. Addison decided to stay with Mia. She gave Caroline a hug goodbye and gave Dust an even longer one.
“Thank you for involving me,” Caroline responds, but she looks at me instead of Dust. Then she switches her gaze to the backseat. “Addison said you’re going to visit her.”
Once a week was the rumor I heard, but I keep that to myself. I’m happy that Dust is breaking out of his shell, and I’m happier it’s for Addison.
Dust cracks open his door. “Yeah.”
“Would you mind if I came along sometime?”
I glance over my shoulder for his response. He looks at me for approval, and I nod.
“Sure,” he says, and he’s out the door before she has the opportunity to ask anything else.
“When you want to see her,” I say, “I can go with you. Dust isn’t much of a conversationalist.”
Her lips quirk up. “He’s a good man.”
“Agreed.”
“And so are you.”
That catches me off guard, and I do a double-take. Her gorgeous blue eyes meet mine, and for one of the few times in my life, I’m at a loss for words.
I’d love to lean forward, brush my lips against hers and lose myself in her forever. But tonight’s not the night. I’m hoping she’ll give me another chance. “It looks like the club is hosting a family dinner tonight. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. Do you want to stay?”
“I don’t want to impose.”
I flash her a grin that causes her to smile in return. “One, that’s too formal. Two, they make enough food to feed an army. Three, you helped us out today. Whether you like it or not you’re a friend of the club now.”
Her eyebrows rise at this, and I’m impressed when she’s bold enough to open her door and slip out. I immediately join her as we cross the field for the crowd near the food.
“What exactly does being a friend of the club entail?” she asks.
I shove my hands into my pockets and silently berate myself. Usually with women I’m as smooth as silk, but Caroline twists me all up inside to the point I feel like a middle school boy working up the courage to ask a girl to slow dance. “It means you get first dibs on Rebecca’s potato salad.”
She laughs, and I love the sound.
“It also means that if you have a problem, we’ll be there for you like you were there for us today.”
She pauses, and the serious set of her eyes freezes me in place. “I did all of that for Addison.”
“I know, and that makes me respect you more. There’s not many people who care like you do. That’s rare, and that makes you a friend of mine.”
She tilts her head, and there’s a soft curiosity there that fires up every cell in my body with the need to touch her. “A friend of the club or yours?”
“Both.”
“Why do you do it?” she asks in bewilderment. “Why do you give so much to these teens? They aren’t your children, yet at every turn I’ve seen you there for them. Tonight with Addison, for Chevy and Violet after the kidnapping, for Oz after Olivia’s death, for Violet’s younger brother Brandon when he’s been picked on relentlessly at school, and then for Razor. Three quarters of the school forgot Razor had a father because they believed you had taken on custody of him. Why do you fight for them so hard?”
I shrug, off balance at the realization that she’s noticed me before. “Why do you?”
She shakes her head like she doesn’t believe she’s as much a fighter as I am.
“You’re hard on them because you demand the best out of them. You see their potential, and you push until they see it themselves.”
“It’s my job.”
“You could pop in a movie for your English class, sit back and do Sudoku all year, but you don’t.”
“There’s more to you,” she counters, evading my comment. “It takes a huge heart to love when that person doesn’t love you back. Teens can be tough that way.”
Adults, too, but I love these teens because they do love. I didn’t understand that type of love at their age, but I’ve been learning how to love like that in the years since. “I guess you’re going to have to hang out with me to get a handle on this ‘more’ you say that I possess.”