Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jigsaw
The perfect day for a long ride.
The kind where I let the machine take over and the roar of the engine drowns out every nagging question swirling in my head.
Like why the fuck Margot went stiff at the mention of Daniel .
Or that I suspect Daniel’s her shitty ex-boyfriend.
Or why, after a weekend that was near perfect—explosive sex, Margot getting to know the club, my brothers accepting her as my ol’ lady—I’m still turning over certain things in my mind.
Like the forgotten condom.
Like the way she looks so natural holding a baby in her arms.
Like the way I need to buy a house with a lot of acreage so I can hunt her down and fuck her outside every day for the rest of our lives.
Ow. I better save that last thought for later.
I stand on the pegs, lifting and repositioning myself, then sit farther back in my seat.
This isn’t an aimless joyride.
Today, I know exactly where I’m headed.
To find clarity with the only blood relative I give a shit about?
Maybe.
Although my relationship with my sister is hardly smooth and uncomplicated.
Jezzie said she was free this afternoon. I’m hoping we can actually enjoy some time together instead of squaring off like opponents in a cage match.
I back my bike into a spot near her apartment and kill the engine. The courtyard outside her building is full of college-age kids sprawled across the grass, soaking up the sun like reptiles while staring at their phones. A few glance my way, widen their eyes, then quickly return to their incessant doom-scrolling.
I yank out my own phone.
Me: Here.
I hit the button for her apartment once and she buzzes me in right away. At least the building’s safe.
I jog up the stairs, yanking off my riding gloves, and wrinkle my nose at the thick, skunky scent of weed clinging to the hallway. My clubhouse usually reeks about the same, but we’re not spending thousands on tuition while we’re getting baked.
Her apartment door swings open as I approach and an excited smile spreads over Jezzie’s face.
“Jensen!” she squeals and rushes into the hallway. I barely have time to brace myself before she’s throwing her arms around my neck and squeezing tight.
Hey, look at that. She’s happy to see me.
“Hey, kiddo.” I return the hug. Coconut and pineapple shampoo or perfume clings to her hair, fresh and sweet—at least it’s not weed. “How’ve you been?”
“Good.” She releases me, bouncing on her toes a few times, then backs up into the apartment. “Come in. Come in. How was the ride?”
“Not too bad.”
She eyes my black leather cut. “You wore your colors?”
“I rode here. Why? Worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your college friends?”
Her smile falters. “No. I worry about you since you’re riding alone.”
“I told you this is a…gray area between us and another club. We’re friends with them. It’s fine.”
She nods quickly but her forehead remains wrinkled. Is she really worried about my safety, or is she worried her fancy college friends will find out she has a dirty biker brother? The one who funds her lifestyle, but whatever.
“You want something to drink?” she asks, already moving toward the small kitchen. “It was a long trip.”
“Sure.” I walk up to the counter dividing the living room from the kitchen.
“Is iced tea okay?” she asks.
“That’s fine.”
She pulls a glass pitcher out of the fridge and two glasses from a cabinet and stands facing me on the other side of the counter. She pours and slides a glass my way.
I take a quick sip, wincing at the bitterness. “Thanks.”
“So, Margot didn’t come with you?” she asks, bringing her glass to her lips but keeping her eyes on me.
“Nah, she’s working.”
“I like her.” Jezzie sets her glass on the counter with a soft thud and pins me with a pointed look. “She’s really sweet.”
“She is,” I agree.
“She seems very…sensitive. Thoughtful.” She tilts her head, her face screwing into a frown. “You’re not going to break her heart, are you?”
“I hope not.” I lift an eyebrow. “You done with the interrogation?”
“Not even close.” She snorts with laughter. “You’ve never had a real girlfriend that I know of.”
How awful that my little sister knows me that well. “No one worth introducing to you.” No need to explain my former love ‘em and leave ‘em approach to women with my little sister, for fuck’s sake. “Enough about me. What’s going on with you?”
“Welllll.” She draws out the word to a playful degree. “I found a job.”
My shoulders stiffen with annoyance. How many times are we going to have this argument? “You’re supposed to be focusing on school. I thought you were taking classes over the summer?”
“I am . But only two. It’s not a lot of hours.” Her forehead scrunches as she casts a guilty glance around the apartment. “Not enough to cover my rent, but I’ll pay for my utilities or something.”
“Jezzie,” I sigh, pressing the heel of my hand against my chest. “Just put it in a savings account…so you’ll have a deposit for an apartment or whatever after graduation when you’re on your own.” As if I won’t still help her out.
Her eyes widen and she claps her hands together. “So you’ll let me take the job?” she asks.
“Let you? How am I supposed to stop you when I’m like two hours away?” I let out a frustrated snort. “Wait, tell me what the job is, first.”
“Oh, it’s waitressing in this tiny pizza place nearby. My friend Erin works there. Her uncle owns it. They need someone to help out part-time. It’s close enough to walk there.”
“Yeah, how late you going to be walking home?”
“Erin will give me a ride.”
“All right.” I pick up my glass and drain the rest of the iced tea. “Let’s go.”
Her gaze narrows as she eyes me with suspicion. “Go where ?”
“See the place.” I pat my stomach. “I could eat a slice or two. I’m starving.”
“Jensen, no! You’re not going to terrorize my friend’s uncle.”
“I’ll be nice.” I push away from the counter and walk toward the door. “Since you told me about it, you obviously want my opinion. Let’s go.”
“Ugh. Let me grab a sweatshirt.”
It could be another ten minutes of her searching through her closet and the walls of the apartment are already closing in on me. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Her grumbling answer gets muffled as I close the door and jog down the stairs.
Outside, I slip on my sunglasses and take a slow glance around the area. Well-kept buildings, small, niche shops. A mix of college kids and locals.
“Hey, do you need directions?” a soft voice purrs.
I glance down and find a girl wearing what looks like a fuzzy, sleeveless, peach-colored onesie, flip-flops, and way too much self-tanner, twirling a piece of crunchy-looking blonde hair around one finger.
“I’m Mila.” She thrusts a hand tipped with shimmery peach three-inch claws at me.
Not interested in getting stabbed by her knife-shaped talons, I jam my hands in my pockets. “I’m fine. Waiting for my sister.”
Her gaze flicks over me like she’s assessing whether I’m a bad decision she wants to make this afternoon. “Who’s your sister?”
Aren’t you a nosy little tramp?
I’m about to tell her to fuck off when Jezzie crashes through the door, bumping into me.
“All right, let’s go.” She stops cold, eyes narrowing. “Hey, Mila,” she says, her voice dripping with irritation.
Mila flashes a half smile, half sneer at my sister.
I don’t have time for this shit.
“Later.” I nod to the girl and rest my hand on Jezzie’s back, steering her around the girl and onto the sidewalk. “Which way?”
She casts a glare over her shoulder. “Why were you talking to her?” Jezzie whispers.
“Uh, she started talking to me . What’d you want me to do, backhand her?”
“Yeah, kinda.” Jezzie giggles, then threads her arm through mine, leading me to the left. “It’s this way.” She glances over her shoulder again. “I can’t believe you have a sweet, decent woman like Margot at home and I caught you talking to that deep-fried witch.”
I stop walking, jerking her to a stop.
She turns to face me. “What?”
“You need to chill the fuck out. I wasn’t trying to pick her up. Christ, Jezzie. You got that low an opinion of me?”
Her tough-girl expression wobbles. “Well, I told you, I like Margot.”
“Yeah,” I answer slowly. “So do I.” I wave one hand in the air. “I still have to, you know, talk to other human beings sometimes. Doesn’t mean I want to fuck ‘em.”
“Well, she probably wanted to fuck you . She has a boyfriend back home but brings a different guy to her apartment every weekend.” She squeezes her eyes shut and gags. “Her bedroom’s right above mine.”
Shaking my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and count back from five. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, using the most patient tone I’ve got. “You want to look for a different place?”
“What? No. I just don’t want?—”
I hold up a hand to stop her. “Even if I wasn’t with Margot, I’m not interested in banging girls my sister’s age. Thanks. I’m good. Can we go now?”
She glances at my road captain patch. “She’s probably going to pester me for an invite to your clubhouse now. She’d fit in well with all the?—”
“All right. Enough.” I skewer her with my big brother glare. “I came to spend time with you, not argue about stupid shit.”
She lifts her shoulders and drops her gaze to the sidewalk. “Sorry.”
“What?” I cup one hand over my ear.
“Shut up.” She smacks my arm. “You heard me.”
“No, I didn’t. It sounded like?—”
“I’m sorry !” she shouts.
I blink up at the sky. “Am I dead? Hallucinating?”
“Oh…my…God,” she spits out between giggles. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I mimic, walking ahead of her. “Let’s go. I told you I’m hungry.”
She hurries to catch up with me, looping her arm through mine again. We cross a small, one-way street and continue along the sidewalk until she stops at a narrow storefront with a red awning hanging over a few sets of tables and chairs set up on the uneven sidewalk in front of a tall, plateglass window.
“This is it.” She grins at me as if we’re about to step into a fine dining establishment.
I glance up at the red, white, and black sign announcing Luigi’s Slice in red script. “ Luigi’s slice of what?” I ask.
“Stop it,” she scolds. “Be nice.”
I grab the door and hold it open for her. A wave of oregano-scented heat rolls over me. “You’re going to sweat to death working here in the summer,” I warn her.
“They have A/C.”
Sure they do.
“J-bird.” A girl who looks like she spent her high school years perched on top of the cheer pyramid calls out to Jezzie from behind the counter. She hurries over, her long, light-brown ponytail swishing down her back, and locks her arms around my sister in that bouncy, overexcited way that screams cheerleader energy .
J-bird?
Jezzie’s not quite as enthusiastic but she accepts the hug. Laughing, she pulls back and grabs my hand. “I brought my brother. He wants to check out the place.”
I scowl at her. How am I supposed to check it out if she announces that’s why I’m here?
“Jensen, this is my friend , Erin.” She stresses friend like she wants to make sure I remember my manners. “Erin, this is my big brother.”
“Goodness.” Erin’s gaze travels up to my face. “You are tall.” She flashes a blindingly white smile. “I’m so happy to finally meet you. J-bird talks about you all the time.”
“Does she now?” I side-eye my sister again.
“All good stuff.” Erin touches my arm. “Promise.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Jezzie warns. “It’ll go to his head.”
More like stop my heart from the sheer fucking shock.
Jezzie approaches the counter with Erin, but I hang back and take in the place. Small, but clean. Narrow. Simple. Two red vinyl booths by the window, each big enough to hold about four people. Two smaller tables against the wall to my right and a counter with four barstools on the left. Assuming the counter is for people picking up their own slices, at most Jezzie’ll be waiting on four tables? Six if she’s supposed to cover the two outside.
Erin and Jezzie have moved to the far end of the counter, excitedly gabbing.
Beyond the counter, huge steel ovens and a long, shiny silver prep station take up most of the space. A big, broad-shouldered man slides a pie from a large wooden pizza paddle into the oven. The oven door clangs shut, and he makes his way to the register. A worn black T-shirt with Luigi’s Slice scrawled across the front stretches over his large frame.
“How can I help you, sir?” he asks with a tired but polite expression fixed firmly on his face.
“Uncle Luigi.” Erin hurries to his side. “This is J-bird’s brother.”
A more genuine smile lifts his cheeks. He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I shake his hand—firm but polite grip. Doesn’t try to impress me with how strong he is. “You too.” I shift my gaze to my sister. “Jezzie says you offered her a job?”
“Sure did.” He tilts his head toward his niece. “She’s here with Erin all the time, anyway. Might as well earn a few bucks, right?” he laughs. “Seriously, though. My last part-timer got married and left. So it’s just Erin and me, and another guy who works the mornings. We get busy in the afternoons and weekends. Mostly a carry-out joint.” He nods to the tables. “But we get a few dine-ins.”
“So, she won’t be making deliveries or anything?” I ask.
“Nope. Don’t deliver. Most of our customers are from the college. They can walk their lazy asses down here. It’ll do ‘em good to get some fresh air.”
“Can’t argue with that.” I like him already. Seems straightforward, no bullshit.
He eyes me up and down, his gaze lingering on the patches on the front of my cut. “You ride?”
“Hell yeah. You?”
“Used to. I got an old ’95 Dyna Wide Glide that’s been sittin’ in my garage for years. Haven’t had the time to fix it up. Can’t seem to part with it, though.”
“Don’t. That’s a great cruising bike. Reliable engine. Easy to modify.”
“It’s no fire-breathing powerhouse but it always got my big ass around. Never let me down or saw a trailer when I was running it.”
“Sounds like you miss it. Gotta make some time to ride the wind.”
“Yeah, I definitely wanna get back to it.” He waves his hand over the glass display case covering the middle of the counter. “Whatta you having?”
I eye the pans of various pizzas. “Two pepperoni slices.” I nudge Jezzie. “What do you want?”
“Cheese.”
Luigi grabs our slices and tosses them in the oven, then nods at Jezzie and points to the cooler in the corner. “Grab whatever sodas you want.”
I slide down to the register, but Luigi shakes his head. “Family doesn’t pay.”
He’s not going to keep Jezzie employed for long with that policy. “Thanks.” I drop the twenty in my hand into the tip jar and wait for Luigi to return with the warmed pizza.
Jezzie chooses the booth in the corner and starts tearing the crust off of her pizza as soon as we sit down.
“What do you think?” she asks as she stuffs small bits of golden-brown dough in her mouth.
“I haven’t tried it yet.” I pick up my slice, holding it in the air.
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she says in a hushed voice, her gaze darting to the kitchen and back to me.
“Nice place. Small. You sure he’s got enough business to keep you employed?”
“I told you it’s not a lot of hours.” She glances around. “And yeah, believe it or not between five and seven this place is jam-packed.”
“All right.” I take a bite, savoring the hefty amount of gooey cheese, spicy pepperoni, thin layer of sauce, and extra-crispy crust. “It’s good,” I mumble. “Can see why they’re busy.”
We eat in silence. The occasional clatter from the kitchen or Luigi and Erin’s conversation filling the space. Every now and then, I flick my gaze toward the door.
A group of four college-age guys shuffles in, their loud voices competing with each other as they argue about something.
“Settle down.” Luigi’s voice rumbles from behind the counter, silencing the kids. Not a request. A warning.
They immediately dial it back, bantering with him for a few minutes before finally placing their orders.
Jezzie cranes her neck to peek at them, then quickly drops her head and focuses on her plate.
I frown. “You know those guys?”
She nods, eyes still locked on her food. “I have a class with one of them.”
The tallest one leans sideways, angling himself to get a better look at Jezzie. His gaze flicks to me and he freezes in midair—like he’s Bambi staring into a semi’s headlights on a midnight highway.
Then, like someone hit his unpause button, he swaggers toward us, hands stuffed into the pockets of his sagging, oversized jeans. The whole outfit looks like it was stolen from the skater kids I went to high school with. “Jay, that you?”
Jay?
Red spreads over her cheeks as she quickly grabs a napkin and swipes it over her mouth. “Oh, hi, Colt,” she says in a forced, breezy tone.
She throws a please-don’t-embarrass-me glare at me.
I shrug. I’ll do my best but can’t make any promises.
Colt stops at the edge of our table and nervously glances between Jezzie and me, then runs his hand over his light-brown buzz cut.
“How are ya?” he finally says to her.
“Good.” She lifts her chin. “My brother’s visiting, so I’m showing him all the best spots.”
Colt’s shoulders ease down, and his mouth curves up—like he’s relieved to find out I’m her brother and not a boyfriend. If my little sister wasn’t involved, I’d find this whole situation funny as fuck. Their interaction is so…innocently awkward.
Now I feel like a dick for the way I overreacted to her talking to Remy at the track. Maybe she hadn’t been as into him as I’d feared. And, on second thought, maybe she’d be better off with Remy, so I could terrorize him on a regular basis.
Colt clears his throat. “Hi, I’m Colt.” He waves his hand in the air like a Muppet getting his strings pulled.
“Jensen.” I nod and resist my natural inclination to poke fun at him.
“I, uh…” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Well, I saw you and wanted to say hi.”
“Yeah.” Jezzie stares up at him with a goofy, wide-eyed expression.
I bite the inside of my cheeks. Must not laugh.
“Nice to meet you.” Colt does the awkward Muppet wave again, then shuffles back to his friends, the bottoms of his ridiculous pants dragging along the floor.
“Don’t,” Jezzie growls under her breath.
“What?” I widen my eyes. “I didn’t say a word.”
She mashes her lips into a flat line. “Yeah, I guess you were pretty decent.”
“Later, Jay!” Colt calls out as he and his friends swagger out the door.
She whips around. “Bye!”
As soon as the door swings shut behind him, I squeeze my eyes shut and snicker in short bursts.
“Shut up!” Jezzie slaps my hand.
“What’s with the Jay and J-bird?” I ask, still grinning.
She lifts one shoulder, twisting a piece of pizza crust between her fingers. “I dunno. I kinda hate my name. It’s always embarrassing when people ask me what ‘Jezzie’ is short for. Who the fuck names their kid Jezebel?” She lets out a short, dry, humorless laugh. “She was supposed to be a whore.”
The bluntness of that knocks the smirk right off my face.
I exhale and lean back. “Nah, I always thought she was kind of a badass who stayed true to herself. Whoever wrote about her in the Bible was kinda biased.”
She frowns. “Yeah?”
Tugging on ideas and half-buried memories I haven’t thought about in over a decade, I add, “Sure. The people writing about her were all men in power. She pissed them off. So they turned her into the villain.”
A pained smile stretches across her face. “You remember Dad lecturing us about how Jezebel was the epitome of a bad woman . That used to make me feel like pig shit. Then he’d harp on modesty and obedience, controlling everything we wore, ate, learned…” She stares out the window.
I remember all too well. “Meanwhile, Ahab was out there being a weak-ass king and worshipping idols, but somehow, she was the problem. They couldn’t see the double standard.”
I reach over and touch her hand, drawing her attention away from the window. “She was a queen who was smart and strategic. Ruthless when she needed to be. But they reduced her to a harlot and used her name as an insult.”
She pierces me with soulful eyes. “And I get to carry that insult around for life.”
“They were all just stories he twisted and weaponized to keep us in line. But yeah, I know it was worse for you.”
She picks at the cheese on her pizza. “You’re lucky you got named before our parents went full-tilt Christo-crazy.”
Relieved we’re moving away from the Bible talk, I snort. “Jensen? You’re kidding, right? You know how many kids picked on me in school? I got called Jenny, Jennifer, you name it.”
A sly smile spreads over her lips. “Yeah, but if you ran into those bullies today, you’d make them piss their pants.”
I snort with laughter. “I guess.”
“Wow, I was not expecting this kind of Biblical feminist analysis with my biker brother today.”
Coldness settles in my chest, our shared past pressing against my ribs like a slab of concrete. “None of those stories ever sat right with me. Not Cain’s punishment, Eve’s supposed inferiority, or Jezebel’s vilification.”
Jezzie exhales sharply. Her fingers tighten around her bottle of soda, the plastic crinkling under her touch. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Me neither.”
My fingers curl into a fist against the table. “Our father tried to beat all those doubts and questions out of me, but the more he tried to whip the devil from my soul, the more I was convinced I was on to something.”
Jezzie’s throat bobs as she swallows. “I’m sorry, Jensen.” She glances down at her plate. “He only got worse after you left,” she whispers, so low I almost miss the words. They still strike like a hammer.
Guilt crumbles over me. I couldn’t save everyone. “Have you ever heard from Ruth?”
She shakes her head. Hesitates. “No. I know she and?—”
I hold up my hand, not wanting to hear the kid’s name. Jezzie was my only responsibility.
“They relocated somewhere on the West Coast, last I knew,” she finishes.
A chill creeps down my spine. The past has a nasty habit of digging itself up when you least expect it.
I never anticipated this deep a conversation with my usually prickly sister over pizza today. And I don’t enjoy the demons of my past returning to take a bite out of me.
I exhale sharply, shoving those old feelings deep, deep down. “It’s okay. We’re okay. You’re brave and smart and know not to fall for any of that bullshit now.”
She nods slowly, then rolls her shoulders back like she’s also shaking off bad memories. “I get the creeps anytime someone talks about going to church or religion of any kind.”
“Can’t blame you.” I reach over and rest my hand over hers. “Why didn’t you say something about your name? When I introduced you to Margot and my brothers…I would’ve used whatever name you wanted.”
“I…I thought you’d think it’s dumb.” She tugs at the hem of her sleeve, her knuckles brushing against my thumb. “Or you’d make fun of me. I don’t know.”
Fuck, that stings—because she’s right, I probably would have teased her. What kind of shitty brother am I that I had no idea her own name bothered her so much?
“Since I was starting over here, I wanted to test out something different.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not sure I care for Jay either, it kinda sounds like a dude’s name.” The corners of her mouth turn up. “Erin came up with J-bird on her own.”
I squeeze her hand once, then let go. “Well, when you decide on a name that fits, just tell me.” I narrow my eyes and fake snarl. “I’ll punch anyone who gives you a hard time about it.”
A genuine trickle of laughter eases out of her. “Deal.”
“You ever talk to Aunt Angela about this?” I ask, curious how she would’ve advised my sister.
Her jaw tightens. “Once.”
“And?”
“She said my name was my connection to my family’s history or some crap. Like, yeah. That’s kinda why I hate it.” She meets my eyes again. “Honestly, I think it was more about the difficulty in getting your name legally changed,” she adds quickly, as if eager to defend our aunt from any criticism I might raise.
“Yeah, but better to do it when you’re young, before you get established in a career or something,” I point out.
She nods slowly. “That’s true.”
“You talk to her recently?” I ask, shifting from the topic of names. “She doing all right?”
She sets her slice down on the paper plate. “She won’t text, so we talk every couple of days. I think she’s good. She’s got a nice group of women her age she’s been hanging out with—they do a lot of volunteering and now they’re planning some month-long cruise to Alaska this summer.”
“No shit. Good for her.” I shiver at the thought of being trapped on a boat for that long.
“Don’t be mad. But she asks about you all the time. If you’re doing okay. I told her you’re seeing a really nice woman.”
I roll my eyes and finish chewing. “I’m not mad. What’d she say?”
Jezzie glances away. “Just wanted to know if you’re nice to her.”
Motherfucker. The words and their implication slam into me harder than expected.
I lean in close, lowering my voice. “Why? She think I’m a monster like our father?”
She meets my stare head-on. “Yeah, probably.” She holds up her hands in surrender. “ I know you’re not. I’ve told her that dozens of times.”
Gee, I’m almost convinced.
Wait, dozens of times? So Angela harps on this a lot?
Fucking great.
My stomach’s turned sour. Damn. We were having such a good conversation and actually bonding like adults instead of snipping at each other like teenagers.
I don’t even know why I’m so annoyed.
I’ve spent my whole life making sure I don’t become anything like my father.
And sometimes I think I’m even worse.