“Were you planning to have him move into your house?”
“No. That would probably be uncomfortable for him. We never—no.” Thinking over the last few months, one thing pops in my head. “He did ask me about it a while ago, but I said I wasn’t ready.”
“Let me guess.” She sighs knowingly. “He never mentioned it again?”
“No.”
“You probably hurt his feelings.”
“What? I doubt it.” I shake my head. No. That’s not possible.
“Goddamn, you’re dense. Just because he’s a hard ass doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.”
I want to snap at her, except she’s right and I know it. “When he proposed, he brought me to a site he picked out on the club’s property to build a house on,” I whisper.
“Wow. That’s awfully romantic. You’re an idiot. He wants to build you a friggin’ house. Build a life with you.” She shakes her head and finishes her wine.
I wave my free hand in the air. “You moved into Damon’s house,” I point out like a whiny child.
Mara of course calls me on it. “Nice try. But he’d only lived here a few months and never with another woman.”
Bing lifts his head and snorts at me. Jeez, even Mara’s dogs are judgmental.
“You remember how excited Clay and I were when we finally were able to afford our own house?”
She nods. “I remember, honey.”
“Both of us moved around so much when we were kids. We so badly wanted to put down roots somewhere.”
“I know.” Suddenly, she sits up and takes my hand. “Your memories of Clay aren’t in that house, honey. They’re in here”—she taps my chest—“and here.” Then she taps the side of my head. “Selling the house won’t take away those memories.”
“I keep telling myself it’s a bad market.”
“It’s a terrible market,” she agrees.
“I finally gave away Clay’s clothes and stuff a few months ago. I felt like a real bitch.”
She rolls her eyes, lightening the mood a bit. “Why? Were you planning to wear them?”
“Come on, Hope. This is a great criminal case. Guy got caught selling dime bags out of an ice cream truck. How can you say no to that?”
Adam called me in to help him out today, but by “help” he meant “take this crappy case someone referred to me.” I’m not falling for it.
“I’m done being the pot lawyer.”
He shakes his head, but the corners of his mouth twitch, so I know he’s not really mad about my refusal.
“What about some estate planning stuff? I’m drowning here.” Adam isn’t begging. Not yet anyway.
“I guess I wouldn’t mind giving that a try. I barely remember anything from Trusts and Estates, though.”
“I know. I’ll walk you through it. Don’t worry.”
“Fine.”
I should have known the little bugger was up to something, because the first client he “needs help” with is Teller.
Dammit.
Sweet as always, Teller gives me a quick hug. “How you doin’?”
“Good.”
Adam saunters into the waiting room with a big, welcoming smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Whelan.” The guys shake hands, and Adam gestures to me. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have my associate, Ms. Kendall, sit in on our consultation. She’s going to be assisting with some of my estate matters.”
I make an I-hope-you-choke face at Adam.
Teller’s mouth lifts in a half smirk. “That’s fine. I know Ms. Kendall well.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Adam says in an obnoxious, fake-surprised voice. “She represented you in a family matter. I remember now.”
How unprofessional would it be if I gave Adam the finger in front of a client?
The three of us take seats around the conference room table. I fight back memories of a time when Rock sat across from me at this table, and I try to focus on the problems Teller’s having with the trust his grandmother set up for Heidi.
Adam is far better at time management than I am. The consultation is over in exactly fifty-five minutes. Teller didn’t like some of what Adam explained, but I assure him it’s standard and we’ll work it out.
I walk Teller out and he pauses at the door. I’m afraid to ask about anything related to Rock or the club, but I’m worried about Heidi and want to know if she’s okay.
“How’s Heidi?”
He grins from ear to ear. “A pain in my ass. Other than that, she’s good. I know you’re busy, but she’d really like to see you.”
Busy has nothing to do with it. “I’d love to see her. Is that…? Can I…?” Crap.
“Heidi can have friends outside the club, Hope. I just figured if you weren’t with Rock, you didn’t want to be bothered with her.”
I kind of want to smack him. Yes, the “outside the club” part hurt, but what I’m mad about is he assumes Heidi was some sort of obligation I’m happy to be rid of now that Rock and I are… whatever we are.
“Of course not. Gosh, you better not have said that to her. I don’t want her thinking that.”
Teller seems surprised, and I try not to hold it against him. He’s still young. Plus, he’s a guy. He doesn’t know he’s being a nitwit.
“Have her call me.”
“Okay. I, uh, have to go out of town Friday. She gets out of school early, and I usually pick her up and take her to lunch…” He shrugs.
“I’d love to. Fridays are good for me. Are you going to be gone long?”
“Nah. I’ll be back Friday night. Quick run.”
Club business. I want to ask so bad if Rock’s going. But what does it matter?
None of my business.
After he promises to have Heidi call, he takes off. The rumbling sound of his bike as he starts it up almost makes me cry.
“You okay, counselor?” Adam asks from behind me.
I count to five before turning around. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Without Hope here in the mornings, Trinity doesn’t join us for breakfast anymore, something I suspect annoys the shit out of Wrath, because he’s in a fouler mood than usual.
No one knew what to say when I announced Hope and I were taking a break. Or no one dared voice an opinion on the subject.
“You sure you won’t fuck this up, little man?” Wrath sneers at Teller.
“Fuck you, dick. You act like I’ve never done a drop before,” Teller snips back.
Time to interrupt this nonsense. I point at both of them. “You two are givin’ me a fuckin’ headache. Stump won’t be at this drop. It’s his RC and a prospect. It’s not a lot of product. Should be quick and easy. Plain car, though. No bikes. I’m gettin’ tired of Loco knowing every fuckin’ step we take.”
Teller makes a what-the-fuck face. “I know. We’re gonna stop and see Grinder, so we’re not flyin’ colors either.”
“Fine. Good. See if he has an update on his transfer request.”
“You want me to ride out separate, maybe lead any GSC tails in the opposite direction?” Z asks.
I actually like that idea a lot. “Yeah. But not alone. Take Dex or Ravage with you.”
Murphy slides his gaze to Teller, and my radar goes up. These two sneaky fucks have a way of communicating without words. “You let Bug know you can’t pick her up Friday?” Murphy asks.
“Yeah, Hope’s taking her out to lunch,” Teller answers without looking at me.
Wrath turns his head from the table to cough-snicker, and he’s lucky he’s still recovering from his broken leg or I’d kick him. Everyone else remains silent. Waiting for my head to explode, I guess.
“How’d that come about?” I ask.
“She sat in on the meeting I had with her lawyer friend about Heidi’s trust. I guess she’s doing estate planning stuff with him.”
“Why? She hates that stuff.”
Teller shrugs. “I dunno. Probably needs the money.”
My hands are fisted so tight my knuckles
ache. Wrath notices but doesn’t comment on it.
“I’m sure Heidi will like that,” I say as calmly as possible.
When a respectable amount of time passes and the guys go back to bullshitting, I make my exit.
Of course, I can’t leave without someone tagging along to annoy the shit out of me. Today it’s Z.
I push my way into the office, but he’s right behind me.
“Prez, this break thing is killing you. Go fucking talk to her,” Z says, slamming his fist into my desk.
“There’s nothing to say right now.” Which is a total lie.
“The fuck there isn’t. Why you being so hard on her?”
Am I? I’m not. I want her to get her shit sorted out. “She won’t talk to me about what’s bothering her, and we need some space.”
“You’re such a dick. She probably doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. I’ve never met a woman who’s more worried about everyone else’s feelings than her own.”
Hurt my feelings? I’m her fucking man. Or I was. I can take anything she wants to put on me.
Z cocks his head. “You mad she’s still upset about her husband?”
“No. Fuck no. They were together a long time. She wouldn’t be the woman I love if she just fuckin’ forgot about him.”
“You want her to mourn you like that,” he states.
I’ve never thought about it in such blunt terms. “Probably.”
He glances out the window and seems to be considering what he wants to say. “Fuck, man—that ride we went on, she practically begged me to make sure nothing happened to you. She fuckin’ loves you. Why you punishing her?”
“Shut your fuckin’ mouth. You don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Fine. Keep being a dick. But don’t you fuckin’ forget I lived through the shit Carla pulled. Whether you want to admit it or not, she cut you deep. Anyone who knows you knows you don’t just love Hope for her hot little ass.”
“For someone who claims to know me so well, you’re dangerously close to getting your own ass kicked for speakin’ about her that way.”
Z shrugs off my threat. “I saw the way you fell for her the day you fuckin’ met, Rock. We all did.”
“Shut up.”
“We watched you clean up your act after her husband died too.”
Surprised, I stare at him.
He shakes his head at me, like I’m one dumb motherfucker. “You weren’t foolin’ no one.”
My fists clench and unclench as I consider how much to say. “It’s not only her husband. It’s other stuff, too. And she won’t… she wouldn’t talk to me about it. I can’t fix shit if she won’t tell me.”
“Brother, it’s not on you to fix everything in the goddamn world. I know you think it is for some reason. It makes you a good president, but you gotta cut yourself a break.” He stops but keeps staring at me. Hell only knows what he’s gonna come up with next.
“I know we never talked about it, but I was there in the hospital with you two. Losing a baby is rough. Especially on a girl like her. She’s already been through so much.”
I can’t fucking breathe. In my life, I’ve been stabbed exactly twice. The pain in my chest right now is worse than either of those times.
“That’s part of it.” I can’t talk to him about the picture I found because I don’t even know what it all means yet. Won’t know unless I talk to Hope.
Fuck.
Mara’s not-so-friendly advice has been eating at me all week.
It also gives me the kick in the ass I need.
Every afternoon when I come home, I click on the radio and work for a couple hours, packing things up. When I want to give up and crawl under the covers, I just keep pushing.
“You hated skiing. You’re never going to ski,” I grumble at myself. Into the donation pile go the skis Clay insisted we buy for a trip we took to Vermont one Christmas. I have plenty of nice memories from that trip. None of them involve the skis.
Clay read spy thrillers. Stuff I can’t stand. They fill up three cardboard boxes.
I sniffle a little thinking of the bookshelf in Rock’s bedroom. Mostly nonfiction history books. I push it out of my mind before I start crying.
By the end of the week, I almost have everything boxed up or tagged. I’m so close I stay up way past midnight to finish. Over the radio, I catch a news report about a body found in the Hudson River. My brain catches on the phrase gang related, and I jump up, racing over to the radio to turn it up.
It’s a club. Not a gang. I know Rock takes exception to people referring to the Lost Kings as a gang. But does the media care?
Would anyone tell me if something happened to Rock?
I’m standing there frozen with fear when another report comes on. This time I hear the story from the beginning.
Hispanic male. Late twenties.
Not Rock.
I let out a deep breath.
Convinced more than ever I need to hurry up, I finish packing and don’t get to bed until almost four in the morning.
As much as I hate to admit it, I need help getting rid of everything. Goodwill says it will take two to three weeks to schedule a pickup.
I can’t wait that long.
Sophie is still hard to get ahold of. I could probably call her brother Ben and he’d help me out. But I know he works odd hours, so I feel weird bothering him.
Lilly and I have been getting together more regularly on our own. When I explain my dilemma, she immediately offers up her brother Alex and his truck.
“I’ve only met him once or twice. I can’t ask him—”
“Trust me. He won’t mind. Besides, I’ll ask him. He can’t say no to his baby sister.”
“Lilly—”
“Stop. I’m so proud of you for finally doing this. Let me help you finish it.”
Crap. I feel like such a pathetic charity case. “Thanks, Lilly. I appreciate it.”
I’d forgotten how big Lilly’s brother is. Except for the more awkward-to-carry things, he waves off most of our offers to help him load in the furniture.
“Everything, Hope? Are you sure?” Lilly asks.
I’m a little sad to see the couch and dining table go. “Yeah. Everything with a green tag goes. Red tags stay. I’ll put them out in the storage container when it gets here. Except the bedroom set. That stays too.” I need someplace to sleep. At least for one more night.
The guilt I’d been expecting doesn’t come.
What does show up is the personal storage container I ordered. As we’re finishing loading things into Alex’s truck, the company drops it off. The driver hands me the information for how to schedule the move when I’m ready. I walk around the box a few times. Whatever doesn’t fit in it doesn’t get to come into the next phase of my life.
Whatever that may be.
“What do you mean? What guy?” I shout into my phone. I’m at the building site for the house I planned to share with my wife, so my mental state is already pretty much shot. This news is not what I needed.
Hoot’s strained voice through the phone makes it clear how thankful he is not to be standing in front of me while giving this report. “I don’t know. Her friend with the big tits is with her too.”
Fucking Lilly. What is it with her trying to set Hope up?
“What are they doing?”
Hoot sighs. Poor fucker’s been on Hope detail for more days than I care to count. Under threat of an ass kicking, he hasn’t mentioned it to anyone else. If he wants to drop his prospect rocker and earn his three-piece patch, he’ll keep doing what I ask without complaint.
Yeah, I know I’m a dick. I’ve made my peace with it.
“Dropping a bunch of shit off at Goodwill.”
“What kind of stuff?”
The exasperation in his voice is clear, but he still answers with respect. “I don’t know, prez. Some furniture. Boxes. I can’t get closer without them seeing me.”
“That’s good. Stay on her.” I’m
out of my fucking goddamn mind.
The guy Z hired to help with the construction stuff that was beyond his expertise stands there staring at me, waiting for instructions.
Z finally got his wish. The club bought a subcompact tractor—not just for this project; Z has lots of plans for it—and together, we did a lot of the site preparation. When we hit bedrock and needed heavier equipment, Z called in some of his contacts.
“We’re ready to pour the concrete,” Jasper informs me.
“It’s not too cold?”
“No.”
“Good. Do it.”
Storming into the clubhouse office, I throw open the door so hard it bounces off the wall, startling Z.
“What the fuck, man?” he grouches.
I don’t have patience for his bullshit today. “You still talk to Lilly?”
“Yeah, every now and then. Why?”
“Will she think it’s weird if you text her right now?”
Z’s already pulling out his phone. “No. Give me a sec.”
“Just ask what she’s up to.”
“Yeah, okay.”
The wait for a response seems to take forever. While we wait, he asks me if I’m going ahead with the construction.
“Yes,” I spit out through clenched teeth.
Z doesn’t say anything. For once, he keeps his smirk and opinions to himself.
Of course, when his phone pings back, a look of recognition settles on Z’s face. Great, now my brother knows how fucking insane I am. “She says she’s out with her brother and Hope.” A sly grin twitches at the corner of his mouth, but he holds it back. “What’s going on?”
I relax at the news that it’s Lilly’s brother. “Nothing.”
“Hang on. She says they needed her brother’s truck because they’re getting rid of a bunch of Hope’s stuff.”
Some fucking spark lights in my chest.
What’s my girl up to?
“You’ll never believe who just texted me,” Lilly says with a giggle as she slides her phone into her pocket.
“Who?”
“Z.”
My heart seizes. After a deep breath, I grab the next box with renewed purpose. “Oh yeah. How’s he doing?”