But besides a relationship with me, Isaiah doesn’t jump headfirst into things. Especially with people who say they’re family. Because of Isaiah’s past, he doesn’t love or trust easily. His weariness, though, hasn’t shut out the McKinleys. They’re patient—admirably so.
I round the Harley-Davidson while playing with the ends of my blond hair. Having been around the Reign of Terror, I’ve learned some about bikes. “This is a FLSTF Fat Boy. V2 engine, 5-speed gearbox.” It’s silver, with a shine like it has been well loved, and I have no idea how Isaiah is going to react.
“Spoken like a true member of the club.”
I smile at the compliment. The club would love for Isaiah to become a member, but he’s not interested. It’s nothing against them, it’s just that he prefers the family connection he has with the McKinleys over the idea of membership. But that doesn’t stop the wives of the club members from trying to talk to me about it, as if I could or would want to change Isaiah’s mind.
Isaiah’s over at Hook’s, working on Violet’s Chevelle. The car has sentimental value to her, and she only allows Isaiah to work on it when there are problems. After that, there’s a long list of men at the clubhouse who have asked Isaiah to look at their cars, even offering to pay.
Isaiah always agrees because he loves cars, but I often wonder if he sees the real intent—that the only time he loosens up with Eli, Cyrus, Pigpen, Oz, Razor, Chevy, or anyone from the club is when he has a tool in his hand and an open car hood. To keep him talking, to keep him relaxed, to hopefully keep him a part of their world, they will possibly break their cars on purpose.
“So, what do you think?” Nina pushes. “About the motorcycle?”
I think she’s smart to show me the bike first. “I think he’ll like it.” I let my fingers slip along the chrome handlebars.
“I hear a but in there.” Nina twists strands of her long dark hair.
How do I explain? Isaiah isn’t the type to get outwardly excited about much. He feels joy and happiness, but he tempers his reactions. And sometimes when he feels overwhelmed with joy he retreats, just a little, enough for him to quietly reflect upon and explore the emotions that he never allowed himself to feel growing up. “When is Eli going to give it to him?”
“That’s why I’m talking to you. When any of the other boys received their motorcycles, even if they were just the frames for them to restore, it was given during one of the club parties, so everyone could take part. Eli respects how private Isaiah can be and he’s not sure giving him this at the party is the best way. At the same time, Eli wants Isaiah to feel part of the family, so he doesn’t want him to feel excluded by doing something different.”
I marvel at the way the McKinleys love Isaiah. “He wouldn’t want any of you walking on eggshells for him. I know he’s not always talkative, but he does care.”
“This gift means a lot to Eli and…”
“He wants it to mean something to Isaiah,” I finish for her.
“They all do. I’ve tried explaining to them that Isaiah doesn’t have the same connection to James that they do. Isaiah doesn’t remember James. He didn’t even know who his father was until he was practically a man himself. It’s a miracle Isaiah has let us into his life, but that doesn’t mean he should have any sentimentality when it comes to his father and this bike.”
Nina’s talking to me because she’s in love with Eli and doesn’t want to see him crushed—which might happen if Isaiah doesn’t love this bike the same way he does. Eli, in essence, is handing Isaiah his heart—I guess the way men do with each other. “It’ll mean something to Isaiah.” Maybe not the way they think, but it will.
I nibble on my bottom lip and consider the multiple feelings at risk and the multiple ways this could possibly play out. “Eli really wants Isaiah to receive the bike in front of everyone, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll prepare Isaiah, and I promise Eli won’t know that I did.”
She sags with relief. “Thank you, Rachel.”
I’m glad to help Nina, and I’m honored that she feels comfortable with me to talk about something so emotional. But while a small sliver of me is helping because I care for her and Eli, I’m really doing this to help the man I love.
Chapter 38
Isaiah
Sitting on a stool at the bar in the clubhouse of the Reign of Terror MC, I watch Rachel as she plays with Pigpen and Caroline’s daughter Adelaide. She looks comfortable with the eight-month-old, as if sitting on the floor on a blanket playing with a rubber duck is a happy place she never knew existed. Adelaide appears just as happy. She cackles as Rachel causes the duck to skip over Adelaide’s arm.
Most days I still marvel that a blonde, blue-eyed angel wants to be with a tattooed, earring-wearing punk like me. As if she can hear my thoughts, Rachel glances at me and winks.
She loves me, and I love her. Miracles do happen.
“What’s happening?” my brother Chevy asks as he slips up beside me. We share a strong hug that includes pats on the back.
“Nothing,” I reply. “You?”
“Same as always.”
We release each other, and he nods at Rachel. “She’s a natural with kids.”
“Rachel’s great,” I say. At everything. I never thought much about Rachel with babies, but she is good with them. Better than good—she’s great. Rachel’s just naturally good with people. There’s no reason babies wouldn’t be included in the mix.
Rachel and babies. Rachel as a mom. Rachel the mom to my children. My heart warms at the idea, and I take a drink from the bottle I’m holding to keep any reaction off my face.
We have a plan though.
The Plan.
Five more years until we own our company and can start our life together.
Five years.
That sounds forever away.
Rachel glances my way, and seeing the smile that brightens her face is like watching the sun rise in a clear blue sky. I smile back, not caring that anyone can see how ridiculously happy I am when she looks at me.
“Can we talk?” Chevy asks, his voice pitched low.
This ought to be interesting. “What’s going on?”
Chevy scans the room. Besides us, the clubhouse is relatively empty. Razor had just pulled in, and most everyone followed him and Breanna into Cyrus’s cabin. I’m looking forward to catching up with them, but I figure that will happen later, like it always does at these parties. A few hours in, Rachel, Oz, Emily, Razor, Breanna, Chevy, Violet, Stone and I end up at the picnic table outside shooting the breeze.
“Oz wants to propose to Emily tonight.”
Seems like everyone is on this—everyone but Emily. “Sounds good.”
“Yeah, but Oz got himself into some trouble. I don’t think Emily wants to remember the night they got engaged as the night Eli killed Oz.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Eli’s motorcycle, paint and Adelaide—that type of trouble.”
Any situation with the combination of those three is damn funny—at least from the safe