The Boy I Grew Up With

Yes. Maybe. My stomach began rolling around, mixing in rhythm with the truck as we pulled out onto the main highway that went to Rousou. I clasped a hand there and frowned.

Nope. I wasn’t going to be sick, because that wasn’t how a Jax rolled. We had stomachs of steel, and we stood up for ourselves, whether it hurt the bank account or not.

“If you’re worried about what you just did, don’t be.”

“I know.” I had friends in high places. I would recover, whatever the damage might be. An uptight socialite was the least of my worries.

I rolled my head over and watched him, appreciating how the wind whipped through his hair. And because I wasn’t fully in control of myself, I said, “Never leave me. Promise.”

He reached over and took my hand, patting my leg.

But he didn’t promise.

37

Channing

It was three in the morning when I left the bed.

I hadn’t slept at all, and I finally admitted defeat.

Heather was curled in a ball, sleeping with the sheet pulled over her leg. I skimmed a hand down her back and side, then tugged it up. She was naked, the way she normally slept.

As I shut the door behind me, she didn’t move an inch.

I made a quick stop in the bathroom, where I avoided the mirror.

I didn’t want to see what would look back. Heather and I had showered, so I was clean, but I knew there were scrapes and bruises all over me. I had some cuts. There was a burn from where a bullet had grazed me, and that shit shouldn’t have been normal. But it was. And that’s what I didn’t want to see.

I was grabbing a beer from the fridge in the kitchen when I heard a footstep behind me.

“Is everything done on the Richter front?”

Some of my tension eased as I turned to see my sister leaning against the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. I nodded, looking her over. “You just getting in?” She had on her normal jeans, but she wore a black shirt.

Fuck’s sake, she looked tough.

Was it from this life? Bren had grown up in the crew system. Had that life given her that hardness or was it other circumstances? Me? Being in Roussou?

“If we moved, would you go with us?” My question came out rushed, but damn, I was feeling a desperation I normally didn’t.

Her eyes widened a fraction, but her response was immediate. “No.” She raised her head, lifting her chin. “My crew is here. Cross is here.”

Yeah. Heather would say something similar.

I didn’t respond, but Bren did, reading my mind. “You can’t untangle her from your life, if that’s what you’re thinking. You two are entwined. You try to shove her away, you’ll destroy you both.”

“What do you mean?”

She snorted, going to the fridge. “You know what I mean.” Grabbing a water, she went to the patio door. “Wanna go outside?”

I eyed her water. “Thank you for grabbing that.” She had been reaching for the beer, but changed her mind at the last second.

She grinned, opening the door. “I know we’re not the conventional brother and sister, but I can show respect every now and then.”

I barked a laugh, grabbing two beers and following her. Handing one to her, I took the seat beside her.

She paused, so I shrugged. “Take it. Two of your crew members helped us today. One beer is not going to tip the balance of me being a crappy guardian one way or the other.”

She laughed, opening the beer. “Give yourself a break. We’re better than we were before. That’s all we can take right now.”

Fuck. “When did you get so wise?”

She smiled around the beer. “I’ve always been. You just didn’t know.”

She was right.

“I’m sorry, Bren.” My throat felt thick, damn thick.

I felt her surprise as she stared at me. She recovered just as fast, turning back and taking a drink of her beer.

“I wasn’t thinking about you, or how my little sis might need me,” I told her. “I was just—fuck, I was selfish.”

“You were losing your mom too.”

Her voice was soft, and I studied her profile. She wasn’t looking at me, but I knew it probably burned her to say that.

“Doesn’t matter.” My voice was a bit rough, hoarse.

She looked over, meeting my gaze.

I didn’t turn and look away, wanting her to see that I meant what I said. “I wasn’t there for you until he went away. I’m sorry.”

She looked ahead again, holding her beer like a life raft, and she jerked a shoulder back. “I mean, whatever, Channing.” Her voice was tight, raspy. “You weren’t there. I dealt with it. Whatever.”

Yeah. She’d said that already.

“Still.”

She shook her head, sighing. “Besides, Dad wasn’t that bad, not at the end.”

I almost growled. “Didn’t goddamn matter.” I didn’t know who I was more angry at: him or myself. He was an abusive asshole, but he hadn’t been to her. I knew that much. While he’d yelled, thrown things, hit, shoved, taunted, and ridiculed me, he’d left her alone.

He’d left our mom alone, and he’d left Bren alone. In that very small way, I was grateful, but only for that.

“Look.” She expelled that word in a sudden whoosh of breath. “He wasn’t perfect. You weren’t perfect. I’m not perfect. At least we’re together.”

I couldn’t move for a second.

Bren said we were together. I never thought...

If it’d been in a different context, I would’ve teased her about being sick and felt her forehead. Instead I felt punched in the stomach and so damned humble to have her as my sister.

“I love you.”

She glanced at me, hesitant, studying me as if I were a feral animal asking for a hug. Then she relaxed. I saw her swallow before she dipped her head in a nod.

“I love you too.”

So we sat there. We didn’t hug. We didn’t go into specifics. We didn’t even utter another word for five more minutes, but I’d never felt so close to my sister.

I looked out at our backyard and the stars above, and I brushed a hand at the corner of my eye.

Nope.

I wasn’t crying.

Not a bit.

38

Heather

Channing was going to leave me.

I could tell.

We’d been here before. He wasn’t meeting my gaze all the time. He was being super nice, like he was already trying to say he was sorry. He was treating me as if I was the most fragile creature in his life.

Like I said, we’d been here before, and fuck him.

Honestly.

Fuck. Him.

It’d been three days since the attack. Everyone had gone back to their lives as if nothing happened. The only thing that changed was that Richter no longer drove through Fallen Crest or Roussou. In fact, Richter no longer drove. I hadn’t seen any of the bikers. I knew they were around—I’d overheard someone talking to Brandon about Traverse, so the MC was around. Just not the old leader.

Then again, should I have been shocked by that?

“Hey, boss.” Cruz lifted his head in a nod, making his way toward me where I sat at a picnic table in the back of Manny’s.

Remembering the high school reunion, I realized there was a lot I didn’t know about Cruz. He was a pretty Latin lover—his words, not mine—and he’d been working for us for two years now. I knew he’d moved to Fallen Crest when he was little, originally from Tijuana, and he had luscious black hair and dark eyes. He was handsome enough to get quite a few of his groupies to come to Manny’s. But I didn’t know anything else. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">