Chapter 9
Ollie
Oklahoma Smokeshow by Zach Bryan
The door opens before I can knock a second time. I immediately slap a hand over my eyes and turn my head like I’ve walked in on something illegal. “Everybody dressed?”
Owen blinks up at me from the couch, brows pulling together. “Why wouldn’t we be dressed?”
Poppy lets out a sharp, nervous laugh. “Really, Ollie?”
I peek through my fingers just enough to see her standing there in a hoodie and jeans, arms crossed, cheeks pink. Very dressed. Annoyed and cute. Bummer. I preferred the naked version.
I lower my hand slowly. “Okay, cool. Just checking.”
“Checking what?” Owen asks, sounding confused.
Poppy groans. “You’re ridiculous.”
I step inside and close the door behind me, toeing off my boots. “Hey, I knocked. I announced myself. I even covered my eyes. I’m basically a hero.”
“You’re a weirdo,” Owen says.
I set the boxes down carefully like if I’m gentle enough, none of this will be real. I hate that they are losing this house and that this is the nightmare they’re living right now. I wish I could make it all better. I wish she’d just move in with me.
She joins me in the living room, helping me with the boxes.
Owen jumps up and says, “Wait till you see how good my free throws have gotten. I’ve been practicing extra at school. We’ve had a long-term substitute and she says we can do whatever we want so I just practice extra.”
“You’re killing it, bud. I can’t wait to see,” I say as I glance around at the piles of things and trash bags.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, her eyes cutting to the boxes. Which is the elephant in the room that no one wants to acknowledge or make real.
I nod.
“Walker said we can store stuff in their pole barn until we figure out the next step.”
My mouth tightens. “That helps. We can make trips out.”
I glance at Owen who is now setting up his game for us to play and I whisper, “How’s he doing with all this?”
She shrugs, but it’s tired. “He’s not saying much. Which means it’s probably bothering him a lot. Maybe you could get him to talk about it.”
I nod. I can definitely talk to him.
Owen drops onto the couch and pulls a blanket over him. I hate how he’s losing the only home he’s ever known.
“I mean it,” I say to Poppy. “Come to the shop. Take the apartment. We can make it work.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. She looks like she’s about to argue, then she doesn’t. I hope she’s really considering it.
“Maybe,” she says. “Even if it’s just until we can find something. There’s not a lot of rentals right now and I need to save up.”
I nod, keeping my voice steady. “I think Owen would like it. It’d be solid. And if you’re pulling off two jobs, the high school and the shop, it makes sense to be close for Owen. He could just be right upstairs.”
She looks at Owen. “Let’s just see,” she says.
“Hey, before we get started, let’s go grab a few pizzas,” I tell Owen and he wastes no time scrambling to get his coat on. “We’ll be right back. Any requests?”
She blows out a breath as she opens up one of the boxes and begins to fill it with old photo albums from the entertainment center. “Anything is good. Thanks.”
“I got you, Poppy,” I tell her as we head out.
Because I will always have them. Even if she isn’t ready. I’ll be waiting.
A few days later, everything goes sideways. We’ve been gone all morning, dropping donations at the thrift store, then hauling a load out to Walker’s pole barn. I’m pulling back into the shop with Poppy next to me in the passenger seat and Owen in the back with his headphones on.
“Ollie,” she whispers and grabs my arm, and I know immediately something’s wrong.
“What are they doing here?” I ask, anger and fear rising in me as I park.
Bikes and trucks I don’t recognize are lined up out in front of her shop like a bad memory came back to life. The way the shop used to operate, overrun by drunk druggie bikers who all but practically ran the shop into the ground while Poppy fought to make money and take care of Owen.
My stomach drops.
Poppy gets out, and Owen follows. Her shoulders are squared, and both of them look tense.
“Hey, stay in the truck,” I say, and neither of them listen and head inside. Because for them this is their dad. They grew up with this. My dad was a piece of work, but at least he preferred his crimes to be of the white-collar variety and didn’t bring menacing bikers home with him.
I don’t hear everything at first, but I hear Sully bite out, “Came for my money.”
His tone is very much not kind. He’s in a mood. I’ve seen him get like this, and it’s never good for the person who is on the receiving end. I don’t like this at all. Not one bit.
Poppy doesn’t back up, just squares her shoulders and tells him, “I don’t have it.”
Sully scoffs. “Funny how this keeps happening.”
“It’s not going to keep happening,” she says. “I took a job at the high school. There’s benefits and it’s solid for Owen.”
His face darkens. “Like hell you are. You owe me!”
“What are you gonna do?” she asks, waving at the shop. “You already took our house. You want this too?”
He steps closer. Too close.
Owen presses into her side.
My vision goes red and I sidle up beside her, knowing damn well if I step in front of her, it weakens her and I know she needs to do this. We both know Sully’s not going to do anything to her. But the other bikers? I don’t know what they’ll do. But they’ll have to get through me to get to them.
“Call Jack,” I whisper in Owen’s ear and he nods. I see Owen pull his phone out of his coat pocket and push a few buttons at his side.
I know Jack is in town and he’ll get here quick. Plus, this gives Owen something to focus on if this goes south and I have to lay these fuckers out.
Sully sneers. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You’d better watch it.”
She doesn’t move. “What are you gonna do, Dad? Hurt me? Go ahead and try. Spoiler alert, you can’t hurt me anymore. I’m a grown adult who is not taking your crap anymore.”
“I will get my money,” he says in a scary voice. “Or how about Owen comes with me?”
“I’m not going with you.” Owen scoffs.
Every biker behind him stiffens and stands up. A few of them look at each other confused as to how they’re going to handle this. This looks like more than they signed up for. Worry pulses through me on how this is all going to go down.
“I’ll bury you,” she says calmly. “All of you. You have no idea who you’re messing with. He may not give a shit about his family, but I do. And I will ruin every single one of you if you even remotely try to come for either Owen or me.”
She reaches behind the door and pulls out a tire iron.
I recognize it instantly. Welded spikes and studs.
Weighted. Built with intention. She made that as a weapon.
And I hate that she felt like she had to do that.
She turns and glares at all of them who look surprised.
“A monster fucking raised me. Better rethink what I’m capable of. ”
One of the bikers steps forward like he’s going to do something, and she stares into him with the scariest look I’ve ever seen on her face. If I didn’t know Poppy from the inside out, I’d be literally pissing my pants right now.
Silence.
Owen’s eyes are wide. Not scared. Awed. He stares at me and back down at his phone where I can see him recording this. I hope to God Jack’s on his way. I might need backup here. I have no idea what Sully is going to do.
Sully spits on the floor and laughs like he hasn’t just lost control. He knows he’s got nothing anymore and he’s grasping at straws.
“We’ll be back,” he mutters, then turns and says, “Better keep that firefighter handy. You never know when things will burn down.”
She’s shaking when I reach her and put my arm around her.
“That’s not okay,” I say. “He’s crazy, Poppy.”
She exhales hard. “I know.”
“We have to get you out from under him.”
“I’m figuring something out.”
“Stay away from him,” I say. “And his friends. He should be paying you, not the other way around.”
She swallows. “If I push too hard, he could try to take Owen. I don’t have legal guardianship.”
That stops me cold. Like hell he will. No one is taking Owen.
Owen looks at us, totally freaked out.
“Never happening, bud. You hear me?” I tell him. “You did good.”
He nods but still wears a terrified expression. “I never want to live with Sully.”
“We’re calling Weston,” I say. “And the sheriff. He can’t make threats like that.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t have the money for a lawyer.”
“This is important,” I say. “We’re doing this. I’ll set it up.”
I look at both of them. “Nothing is going to happen to either of you when I’m around.”
I’ll make damn sure of it.
The second I heard Sully make that threat, the way his voice dropped and turned ugly, something in me went cold and sharp. I don’t take chances with the people I love. Because saying something like that is halfway to doing something like that.
Hell no.
Owen hands me his phone, his fingers shaking. “I recorded it,” he says quietly. “Just in case he said something really bad.”
My chest tightens when I hit play. Sully’s voice crackles through the speaker, slurred and threatening and way too sure of himself. Every word is another nail in the coffin he’s digging for himself. Weston is going to be glad he got this.
“You did good,” I remind Owen, keeping my voice steady even though I’m so angry at Sully and his trash friends. “Really good.”
Poppy looks pale, eyes bright with that barely holding it together look I know too well.
“I’m staying with you guys tonight,” I say, already heading to grab my things. “I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t argue. She just nods, relief washing over her face like she’s been bracing for someone to tell her she’s overreacting.
Sully’s gone way too far.
Owen’s already in bed when things finally settle. The house is quiet like everyone’s holding their breath. Poppy moves through the kitchen on autopilot, locking the back door, turning off lights. I trail behind her, not crowding, just close enough to be there.
She pauses at the sink, toothbrush in hand, then glances at me. “You don’t have to stay,” she says softly.
“I know,” I tell her. “I’m staying anyway.”
Something in her shoulders loosens at that. The weight of the world seems to lift some and damn I want that for her. I want to take that from her. The stress of the world.
We brush our teeth side by side at the bathroom sink, bumping elbows now and then. It’s domestic and strange and way more intimate than it should be. She makes a face at the minty foam, and I huff out a quiet laugh. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and the moment stretches, warm and familiar.
When she rinses, a strand of hair slips loose from her ponytail and falls across her cheek. Without thinking, I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. My fingers barely graze her skin, but she stills completely.
For a second, neither of us breathe.
“Goodnight,” she whispers, standing in the doorway to her room.
“Goodnight,” I murmur back.
She hesitates, then leans in and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. Soft and careful. It lands like a promise I don’t dare name. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
I take the couch, my boots lined up by the door, my phone on the charger. I don’t sleep much. Every creak of the house has me sitting up, listening, every shadow feeling louder in the dark.
In the early hours, I hear small footsteps pad down the hallway. I sit up just as Owen freezes when he sees me.
“You’re still here,” he whispers.
“Yeah, buddy,” I say quietly. “I’ve got you guys.”
He nods, as if he’s reassured, and shuffles back to bed.
I don’t lie back down after that. I just sit there in the dark, heart steady, senses sharp, knowing that this is where I’m supposed to be. I just need Poppy to feel it, too.
The next morning, we don’t waste time.
“Grab your backpack,” I tell Owen. “We’re taking you to school.”
The drive over is tense but determined. Poppy’s hands are steady on the wheel this time, jaw set. Owen sits taller in the back seat, phone clutched in his hand.
The school smells like cleaner and pencil shavings and cafeteria pizza. We sit down with the principal, the counselor, and the front office manager. I lay it all out.
“There’s an issue with Owen’s biological father,” I say. “He’s made threats. We have them recorded. He is not allowed anywhere near Owen or this campus.”
The principal’s expression hardens. “We’ll flag his file immediately. Teachers, recess monitors, and front desk. If he shows up, we call the police.”
Good.
The counselor smiles gently at Owen. “You’ll be all right.”
Owen glances at me, then Poppy. I nod once. He exhales.
Later that afternoon, we’re sitting across from Weston Jessop out at the Wilder lodge, formerly the Jessop lodge. He listens without interrupting, then leans back in his chair.
“I’ll help you,” he says. “We need to get you solid. Guardianship. Boundaries. Protection orders. I’m on it.”
Poppy’s shoulders finally sag like she’s been carrying the world alone and just set it down.
“Do you think we could force him to give her the shop?” I ask, leaning forward. I want everything we can get for them.
Weston shrugs. “I mean, we can’t force Sully to do anything. But that doesn’t mean she has to keep paying him. That’s extortion.”
“Maybe he could be persuaded aggressively,” I muse.
Weston snorts. “Well, then you’re talking to the wrong brother for that. You and Jack sometimes operate on the other side of the law. I keep you all honest.”
“You’re no fun,” Owen mutters. Then he says, “We could put a skunk in his truck like—”
My eyes narrow. “Hey, how do you know about that?”
Owen and Poppy laugh.
The court date is a few days later. Weston files everything quickly and we get ready for it. We show up. Sully doesn’t. No surprise there. No one really thought he would.
The judge listens to the recording, face unreadable, then grants the restraining orders without hesitation.
Sully can’t come near the shop, the house, Owen’s school, Wilder Ranch, The Black Dog, the firehouse, and a bunch of other places Weston added to cover us. But most importantly, he can’t come near Owen or Poppy.
I stay with them every night that I’m not on shift, just in case. I want to be nearby if they need me. And when I am on shift, I check in all the time.
No one gets to touch what’s mine.