Hopelessly Shattered (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter #1) Page 15

  “Not if it’s gonna get him into trouble.”

  Kade nods in some sort of macho man approval, humming. “Good girl. That’s the right answer. You don’t gotta tell me anything. But I will say whatever my brother said is true. He’s just lookin’ out for your best interest, even if he’s a dick about everything else.”

  Right. Okay. I didn’t come here to talk about Ryker. I’ve barely thought about him all morning. Well … that’s a massive lie. I’ve thought about him since I woke up. The residual burn of last night’s kiss still lingers on my lips, and my girl bits are tingly. All because of him, and his too-sexy self. I promise it’s not deliberate. I’m not trying to think about it. But he’s just there lingering in the back of my mind, making me wonder things like… Is Vanessa still pissed at him? Did he confess to us having sex? Does he hate me? Is he okay? Does he feel he got some closure, too?

  Stuck in my head, over thinking too much, I don’t notice Kade slipping out of the booth until he’s standing, waiting patiently for me to surf through my jumbled thoughts. When I finally glance up at his towering form, he offers me his hand. “Come on, beautiful. I’ve got some houses to show you.”

  Driving through Red Fort’s only trailer park, Kade thumb points to an off-yellow, single-wide with gnarly weeds eating it alive. Apparently, this park doesn’t have rules about lawn maintenance because that looks downright awful. “That’s Bongo’s trailer.”

  “Who the hell is Bongo?” I didn’t meet him last night, or any of the other people whose houses he drove me past. Pretty sure I’d remember their names.

  “He’s one of our special members… As you can see, there’s not much down here to make people wanna join a club. But we’ve got the highest member rate out of all our chapters. Twenty-nine and counting.”

  I incline my head toward the beaten up tin box. “And why do people like this Bongo live down here? Couldn’t they join elsewhere?”

  “See, that’s the thing. Our club’s for the misfits who didn’t get along with members of their chapter. Or it’s for those the club wants to keep under tight lock and key.”

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  “That means, members like Bongo serve a purpose for the club. A purpose they don’t want a lot of people knowin’ about. And down here, there’s nobody to worry about causin’ trouble for us. The townsfolk like keepin’ us around, ‘cause we keep the riffraff out.”

  “So these members are like, what? Mercenaries?” I ask, absentmindedly rubbing my daughter. She’s been fairly active since I fed her all that sugar.

  “Some of ‘em are.” Keeping his explanations oddly vague, he drives on, taking a left out of the trailer park. Up ahead, in the middle of a small forest, is a small blue house with white shutters. Flicking his chin in its direction, he slows the truck to a crawl. “That’s Roscoe and Hammer’s place. They decided to shack up. Didn’t wanna fit the extra housing bill. Not that the cost of livin’ is much.”

  I sideways glance at Kade, who looks right at home behind the wheel. Peaceful even. Surprisingly, I haven’t seen his knife all day. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that’s a good thing. “What do they do for the club? Or am I not allowed to ask that?” I pry.

  “They’re just the muscle. Nothin’ fancy. They patched over around the same time from other chapters. Pops has done a fine job keepin’ ‘em in line. They were cocky little fucks when we took ‘em in. Your dad might not be able to do a whole lot on the outside for the club, Kat, but he sure as hell knows how to keep fuckers in line. Pop straightens ‘em out, then your dad keeps ‘em that way. He dictates their every move. Tells ‘em where to go and what they’re doing. That’s what makes him such an asset to us. Granted, I’m not supposed to tell ya any of this. Though, considerin’ you’re family, what’s it gonna hurt if I tell ya just a bit?”

  “I’m not going to say anything.” And I won’t. I’ll take their secrets to the grave with me.

  Kade pulls away, the twang of country music barely audible in the cab as we ride on. Watching building after building pass by in a monotonous blur, we come to the outskirts of town where houses are few and far between. Eventually, he veers to the side of a country road and parks along the grassy shoulder in front of a rustic cabin. It is set in the middle of a wooded area that’s off the road a ways back. If it weren’t for the small gravel drive and a few fallen trees, you wouldn’t be able to make out the place. The dark stained, log exterior blends into the scenery quite well—it’s absolutely stunning, the craftsmanship second to none. From the charming porch swing, spindly posts, and the two-toned shutters, it looks like an adult version of a gingerbread house. If gingerbread houses were rustic log cabins.

  The ignition is turned off, and Kade nods toward the building. “That’s Ryker’s place. He bought the land shortly after he came home. Then he built that cabin all by himself. Wouldn’t let anybody help him. He lives there alone, sometimes, while Vanessa stays in the trailer he bought her. It’s in that park we just drove through. Nobody’s been in the cabin but him. And he doesn't stay there much. Most of the time, he’s at the clubhouse in our spare room, or at Vanessa’s. Wasn’t sure why he kept the house if he’s never gonna live there.”

  A crushing tightness in my chest makes it hard for me to breath, let alone talk. Why would he show me this? Why does it matter?

  “Why’d you bring me here?” I choke out, my voice betraying every emotion that’s battling in my head and … heart.

  I can’t explain why, but my vision hazes as it fills with unshed tears. Carefully, as to not draw attention to myself, I remove my glasses and set them in my lap before swiping the wetness away. I’ve done enough crying in my life. Looking at that sad and lonely little cabin shouldn’t make me so … whatever this is. It’s just a wooden box with walls and a porch. Nothing more. Though, it feels like so much more. Like I’m getting a secret piece of Brent back. Not to keep. But to understand and cherish for just a little while.

  Eyes fixed on the forest, Kade’s hand slides across the top of the seat and comes to rest on my knee. He pats me there, strong and supportive—just like the man himself. “As angry as I may be with my family right now, I realize this has gotta be just as hard for everyone else. Especially my brother. He’s been livin’ in this hell for years, knowin’ he’s got two daughters out there that he couldn’t tell anyone about. I never understood him bein’ a prick before. Or why he built this cabin if he had no intention of livin’ in it. Or why he and Ghost stopped gettin’ along when he came home. Now it’s all startin’ to make sense. That’s why I wanted to bring ya into town. Not only to show ya a bit of your dad’s life—which, as you can see by Red Fort, isn’t much. I also wanted ya to see this. Because I think he’d want you to know about it, even if he can’t tell you himself.”

  Wiping more tears away, that won’t stop forming, I lay my palm over Kade’s. It’s warm, and I focus on that instead of everything else I need to try and forget. I didn’t come to Texas to deal with my Brent issues. I came for my dad. And here I am, at peace with my father. Whereas, my internal battle with Ryker has merely begun.

  “Thank you,” I mutter, slipping my glasses back on.

  Kade squeezes my knee. “Anytime, beautiful. I know it’s shitty with Ryker bein’ married, and all the shit you’ve got goin’ on. But I know ya still care about him, and he, you. Do you wanna get out and look at it?”

  My heart flips over in my chest as a shiver passes through me. Yes, I want to explore the entire property, but I’m not going to. “Wouldn’t that be trespassing?”

  “What Ryker don’t know, can’t hurt him.”

  “Yes. But I’d know. And if he wanted people to see it, he’d let them. I don’t wanna take away his privacy.”

  “You’re too damn good of a woman. I hope you know that.”

  “I don’t, but thank you.”

  For a few unspoiled beats, we sit in peace, watching the tree branches sway in front of the empty cabin. Then, as if he knows when
I’m ready, Kade turns the ignition and pulls away. It’s a heart aching moment, yet the perfect ending to an otherwise irreplaceable couple of days. I’m sad to leave. Though, it’ll be nice to see my girls again. I miss them like crazy, and I’m sure they’re driving grandma nuts. I haven’t spoken to them since yesterday. When I get to the airport, I’ll be sure to shoot Mom a quick text.

  Turning up the music, Kade’s hand still on my leg, we listen to country songs all the way back to the clubhouse. Dad is waiting for us on the front porch when we arrive. Next to his feet is my duffle bag. Bear is right behind him, shutting the front door in his wake, a sad smile playing on his ruggedly handsome face as he turns and lifts a chin in our direction. He sets a hand on Dad’s shoulder as the truck comes to a stop a few feet from the steps and I climb out.

  “It’s time to go, Peanut. Kade said he’d taken ya to breakfast. What’d ya think of Red Fort?” Dad’s arms stretch wide as I walk up the steps and fold myself into his embrace, my own arms curling around his back in a big hug.

  Nose stuffed against his chest, the scent of leather and him swirling in my brain intensifies our bittersweet farewell. I’m going to miss this most. “It was small. But nice.”

  He squeezes me tight until I fear I might pop. “There’s not much to see, but I’m glad ya got to visit before ya left.”

  “Me, too,” I wheeze, unable to inhale fully.

  “Ghost, I think you’re holdin’ her too tight. Let her go and give her the phone.” Bear steers us away from the brink of an emotional breakdown. Okay, my breakdown. The tears are welling again. Damn female hormones. Blinking them away, I reluctantly pry myself from Dad’s arms.

  Kade honks the horn, his head hanging out of the driver side window. “I know it sucks to say goodbye, but we gotta go unless you want her to be late!” he hollers.

  “Hold the fuck up, son!” Bear growls.

  “You’ve got one minute!” Kade returns and my sadness sinks to an all-time low.

  Hooking a finger under my chin, Dad tips my face up and places a gentle kiss on my cheek. “I love you. We’re gonna keep in touch. I promise. Bear and I have already talked it out.” Releasing me, he produces a small black phone from his jeans pocket. “This is yours. It’s got Kade’s, mine, and Bear’s numbers programmed in. You can’t contact us from your cell. It’s not safe. But this one’s secure. You can call or text us anytime you want, day or night.”

  My bottom lip wobbles and I take the phone, clutching it in my hand like a lifeline. “Okay. Thanks. I love you, too.”

  Bear kisses Dad on the temple as he scoots around us, grabs my bag, and crunches his heavy boots across the gravel, tossing my stuff into the back of Kade’s pickup. Without a word, he climbs into the cab with his son, giving me the father-daughter sendoff I’ve needed since the day he died.

  Taking Dad’s hands into mine, phone smashed in between, I hold onto him for dear life, staring into his eyes that look just like mine. “I’m glad I came.” I sound horrible. My voice is all scratchy on the verge of a total meltdown. Swallowing hard, I try to dislodge the knot in my throat. It refuses to budge.

  “Me, too. Now be careful, and text me as soon as you land. And then when you get home.”

  Grinning at his overprotectiveness, I bow my head in compliance. “I will...”

  Before I lose the nerve and start bawling my damned eyes out, I hug my dad one last time and sprint over to my rental car. Well, I try to run. It’s more like a fast waddle, and probably looks hilarious, but I make it there and lock myself inside. The keys are in the ignition and my phone in the cup holder. These men think of everything. I set my new phone next to my old and turn the car on.

  Kade expertly backs his truck out of the lane first. Then I follow suit, slowly, trying to stay on the gravel. Reaching the road, I stop just at the entrance of driveway and wave to my dad, who’s standing on the porch, his eyes swollen and red. He swipes them once with the back of his hand and returns my wave. Quickly, I blow him a kiss, then take off, tires screeching as I shoot past Kade and Bear in the truck. They let me drive like a crazy lady without honking or calling to give me shit. I need this, the distraction, so I don’t turn around, throw myself back into my dad’s arms, and beg him to come home with me. Which isn’t where he belongs. Not anymore. This is his home now, with Bear, the man he loves, and the club that’s accepted him. A place that a woman like me doesn’t belong.

  Flipping a radio station on, music blaring as loud as it can go, I cry. The torrent of jumbled emotions pour, using my face as their outlet. And I let them. I weep from happiness, sadness, pain, heartache, and, most of all, I cry for the lost years of what could have been.

  The drive goes quicker than I expect, and soon, I’m pulling into the rental car lot, returning my vehicle. The man at the counter is kind enough that he doesn’t stare at my blotchy face when I drop off the keys. Kade and Bear are parked outside the building when I return to the lovely warmth of the outdoors, which’ll soon turn to bitter cold when I get home to Indiana. Blah. That’s one thing I don’t miss there. Sure, the four seasons are beautiful, but staying warm year round is better.

  Stepping out of the passenger side, Bear helps me into the front seat before slipping into the back of the crew cab. We don’t speak as a dense cloud of gloom cloaks the cab the closer we get to the terminal gates.

  Parking in the unloading area, Kade grabs my hand, stopping me from going anywhere, at the same moment I push my door open. Folding our fingers together, a calmness settles over me, scaring away my heavy heart and filling it with a flicker of hope. I might be leaving, but that doesn’t mean forever. It’s hard to remember that when you’re faced with the ugly truth that you’re flying home by yourself and leaving a whole new family behind.

  “It’s not gonna be forever, Kat. We’re only a flight or phone call away,” Kade explains, his words rushed and gruffer than usual like he’s trying to convince himself more than me. It’s good to know I’m not the only one dreading my departure. That makes me feel loved.

  Afraid to talk, I dip my head in a solitary nod. Realistically, I know what he says is true. That doesn’t make any of this easier. Not since I haven’t heard a thing from Ryker. And my dad couldn’t see me off … because of him bein’ dead and all.

  Schooling my features, I unfold my fingers from Kade’s and carefully climb out of the truck. Bear and Kade follow, dragging their feet almost as badly as me.

  Standing outside the sliding doors of the airport, Bear grudgingly offers me the handles of my duffle, and I accept them, but not without a small game of tug of war. “I should really carry this inside for you, darlin’.” He tries to steal it back, but I’m not having that.

  I hug the bag to my chest.

  “Bear, it's fine. You didn’t have to follow me here in the first place,” I reason.

  Kade claps his dad on the shoulder. “Let’s get this over with before we start cryin’ like little bitches, and needin’ tampons and Midol.”

  All three of us chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood. It works for a second. Our hugs are quick and painless. Bear’s is fiercer than Kade’s. They wish me a safe flight before I waddle my way inside to check my bag and claim my boarding pass.

  Caught up in my own thoughts, everything passes in a blur. From the security check and droning announcements, all the way to the uncomfortable chairs I have to sit in to wait for my row to be called. It’s all so impersonal and lonely.

  Clutching my carry-on to my chest, I hoist my behind out of the chair the minute my boarding order is announced over the loudspeaker. Men, women, and children stand in a single file line, waiting to be scanned in so they can load into the airplane. Sometimes I find myself wondering what their stories are. Where they come from. Why they’re flying in the same box in the sky as me. It keeps me occupied a little while longer, as I smile politely to the flight attendant who beeps me in, and I make my final trek to my seat.

  Knowing that I’ll have to use the restroom more than o
nce, I opted for an aisle seat a couple rows from the bathrooms. They’re not the easiest to maneuver around in when you’re the size of a house, but it’s better than peeing yourself. A business man with graying hair and kind eyes takes the middle seat, while a teenager with bright pink headphones claims the window. Buckling in, I take a deep breath and decide right here, and now I will not cry anymore. This is not a sad goodbye. It was one trip that gave me closure and the happy possibility for more. What kind of more, I don’t know for sure.

  Setting my purse into my lap, I unzip the top to shut down my phones since I know they can’t be on—aerospace rules. When I reach inside, my hand bumps into the corner of something sharp—a folded letter, just like those you got back in school, and a black box.

  Baffled, my trembling fingers unfold the paper, and my breath catches.

  To my little Tiger,

  Last night was the most amazing night I’ve had in years. It doesn’t top our first Thanksgiving, but I’d call it a close second. You’re more beautiful than I remembered. So full of life that it hurt to watch. Not in a bad way. Just … fuck … I don’t know. You’re remarkable. How’s that for shitty explanations?

  There is so much I’ve wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words to express how truly sorry I am. I know I’ve broken your heart more than once, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that.

  I can’t pour my heart out onto a piece of paper. That’s never worked out well for me. So I’m going to leave you with a gift instead. Please open the box now.

  Complying with the letter, I do as I’m told and lift the lid off, setting it onto my thigh. Inside are three blue organza bags with necklaces coiled in each.

  Returning to the letter, I read on.

  I noticed you weren’t wearing the infinity necklace I bought you years ago. I’m not sure if it broke or you threw it out because of the bastard I am. But please accept these, for you and our daughters. I know it’s not much. And you can tell them they’re from you. I don’t care. Just knowing they have them is what matters.