Chapter 6
Chapter Six
MONROE
My cheeks burn from the smile that refuses to leave my face.
What an absolutely bizarre interaction. Who was he?
With his ripped-up denim jeans, plain black T-shirt, and leather vest covered in patches, his wild blond hair, and eyes so dark they almost appeared black, he looked every bit as dangerous as he was going for.
I recognized the leather vest covered in patches, and I know exactly what it means.
He has a motorcycle club affiliation. I’ve heard of them.
Everyone in Amberwood knows who the Hell’s Heathens are.
Both my parents are high school teachers in Amberwood and know most of the families who live here; they’ve seen their fair share of former students be recruited or end up in the club.
They don’t have a bad reputation in Amberwood; in fact, they do a lot of good for our community.
But they are still a violent club, and I’ve heard the rumors.
Even still, not an ounce of fear traveled through me as we stood toe-to-toe, just two strangers curiously looking at each other. What an incredibly odd greeting.
The thoughts follow me the entire walk home. After he left, I couldn’t seem to focus and packed up for an early evening. It was late enough in the day, and Mr. George doesn’t mind me choosing my own hours as long as I’m getting everything done when we need it to be done by.
I’ve never been under such scrutiny before, but despite his rough physical edges, he had a childlike wonder about him that is so rare in adults who have typically been beaten down by the world around them.
I’ve seen that happen more times than I’d care to admit.
It’s refreshing to see the opposite. Especially in a man who’s a Hell’s Heathen.
The walk to my house takes twenty minutes, and once I open the small gate that surrounds our little front yard, I can already hear the noise from inside. A smile stretches across my face as I skip up the steps, the paint whitewashed and aging from the ever-changing weather of the Pacific Northwest.
I’ve lived here my entire life, in the small town of Amberwood, Washington.
It’s quaint, sitting at the base of the Olympic National Forest, less than a day’s drive to the Pacific Ocean, and blanketed by a near constant cloud cover.
I don’t mind the lack of sun so much, but on days like today when it peeks through the clouds, I soak up its rays until it goes back into hiding.
I love the feeling of the sunshine on my skin.
My hand reaches out to the aging bronze doorknob, giving it a twist, pulling it upward slightly at the same time as I throw my hip into the center to give it just a little pressure. The door opens with a whine, the boisterous noise escaping outward and ringing in my ears.
From upstairs, my twelve-year-old sister, Lucy, attempts to play her trombone, the noise traveling through the small, multigenerational home I share with my grandparents, my parents, my seven siblings, two cats, Eros and Psyche, and a guinea pig named Goose.
You can credit my mother’s love of Greek Mythology for the pet names, and my sweet sister for Goose.
My fourteen-year-old twin brothers run past me as I kick off my boots, tackling each other into the ground, Wyatt attempting to steal the football from Miles. I respond on instinct, my hands reaching out to grab Wyatt’s shirt and pulling him off.
“Hey! Hey, you two! No football in the house, remember? Why don’t you take it outside? That’s the whole perk of having a huge backyard.”
“Oh! Hi, Monroe! When did you get home?” Miles asks as he stands up and wraps his arms around my shoulders. Hard to believe these two are bigger than me, and they’re only fourteen.
“Just now. How is everyone?”
Wyatt shrugs while Miles shoves him. “Everyone’s good. How was painting dead people?”
“I don’t paint dead people, dingus. I apply makeup to make them feel beautiful one last time. And I do a lot more as a mortician than just put makeup on them.”
“Yeah, but they’re dead, why’s it matter?” Wyatt jokes. Typical fourteen-year-old boy.
“We’ve been through this before. You need to clean out your ears.
Because it’s respectful,” I tell him as I rub my hands over his brown locks, further messing up his purposefully messy hair.
“Even if their souls have passed on, we should honor their bodies before they’re taken to their final resting place.
Our bodies are good to us and make living possible. It’s a good send-off, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re doing really cool things, Roe,” Miles says with a proud smile.
“Yeah, but it’s still weird to have a sister who’s a mortician,” Wyatt adds. These two may be twins, but they are complete and utter opposites. I roll my eyes, setting off toward the kitchen and the scent of olive oil, garlic, and onions.
My grandparents sit side by side in a loveseat in our living room as I walk through, my nana’s glasses perched precariously on the edge of her nose as she looks down at the new e-reader she got for her birthday last week.
She’s always been an avid reader, and we thought having control over the font size would help her.
Turns out we were right, and she’s read more books in seven days than she had in the previous month.
My grandpa relaxes next to her, dozing off to another episode of The Office. They’ve been married for an eternity, and I’m hopeful to find that kind of love someday.
“Hey, Grandma, I hope you’re ready for Saturday!”
“You know I am, my girl!”
Before continuing on, I drop a kiss on each of their heads, my grandpa reaching up and giving my hand a gentle squeeze without opening his eyes. My heart swells.
I find my mom in the kitchen, peeling roasted Roma tomatoes.
“Hey, Mom. Spaghetti for dinner?”
“Your favorite, my darling girl. How was work?”
My mind immediately drifts to Crew, the mysterious, curious man with the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen.
The feeling of his finger as it trailed down the bridge of my nose.
It’s not typical that a stranger would feel comfortable enough to reach out and touch another, but he didn’t seem to be doing it to breach any potential physical boundaries I may have; it was almost as though he genuinely didn’t know it would be frowned upon. It was endearing. Sweet, even.
“It was a good day. Did you get to spend any time outside? It was beautiful out there.”
“I did, went for a walk this morning, and ate my lunch outside.”
“Good, Mom, I’m glad you could soak it up. Summer will be over before you know it, and you’ll be back in a stuffy classroom. Need any help?”
“Always. Wash those mushrooms for me?”
“You got it.”
Together, my mom and I finish preparing her red sauce, letting it simmer on the stove while she gets the pasta ready. I wash and chop some veggies, tossing together a quick summer salad to pair with it.
The deafening chime of the dinner bell rings out loudly from where my mom shakes the rope attached to the bell near my head. Then the stampede erupts from above us. I smirk over at my mom, knowing how much she loves having us all under one roof.
I’m the oldest, and at twenty-eight, there’s quite an age gap between me and the rest of my siblings.
I’m their only biological child, and my seven sisters and brothers were adopted.
After so many years being an only child, by the time my sister, Aurora, was brought home, I was ten and so happy to share life with someone else that the gap didn’t ever matter.
My parents kept adding after that, and we’ve been so lucky to have such a huge family.
My mom and I finish setting everything out on the bar top just as everyone lines up. The easiest way to feed the masses here is an assembly line, first-come, first-served style. There’s definitely no hierarchy in this house.
“Oh, hi, Roe, you’re home!” my little brother, Cooper, yells excitedly. “Did you know that sloths can hold their breath for up to forty whole minutes?”
“Ooo, you got me with this one! I didn’t know that, Cooper!”
“Yep! And octopuses have three hearts and blue blood!” he states.
Cooper was nonverbal until about a year ago, and it was like a switch went off for him, because now he’s a little chatterbox.
Sometimes it’s still a little challenging to understand his words, especially when he’s excited about his animals, but he’s been making such incredible progress in speech therapy.
“I did know this one! I think I’d like to see an octopus someday, what about you?”
“Yes!” he squeals, almost dropping his plate.
I help him put noodles on his plate, adding the sauce to the side, and the salad next, making sure the items aren’t touching, just the way he prefers. With a smile on his face, Cooper takes his food and finds his spot at our extra-large dining room table.
The rest of us follow, and in no time, we’re all gathered around with plates full of food.
Growing up, it was customary that we always had family dinner together in the evenings.
It became especially important as our family expanded.
It was so easy for someone to fall into the background, and my mom and dad wanted to make sure there was a set time, every single day, that we all checked in with each other.
Cue our nightly—and mandatory—pit and peak.
“Monroe, I believe it’s your turn to start tonight,” my dad says, his voice jovial and so full of love. You’d think the man would be exhausted after raising all these kids at his age, but he says we keep him young.
I think for a moment, my mind flicking to Crew and deciding that interaction was the peak of my day.
It was so out of the ordinary, and for some reason, I can’t shake the impression he left on me.
However, I decide to keep that little bit of information to myself. A little secret that’s just for me.