20. Talon
Talon
Spring fucking break.
I left with Henry this morning, we packed everything down in the Porsche and headed for Gravity Hill. God, if anyone knew how excited I am to come back home, I’d never hear the end of it. Fern called again last night, and Henry brought Spice up… again.
His smirk was wicked, and yet, I haven’t kicked him out of his seat yet. Mostly because he’s the best passenger princess I could ask for. He doesn’t complain about the long drive, the minimal breaks, or my music.
It helps that Henry likes to listen to true crime podcasts. He has his head on the window, eyes closed, earbuds in and is mercifully quiet. Giving me all the time I need to just chill out and drive.
The way home feels ingrained in my body. As if I could find it no matter where I am in the world. It’s only about three hours, which isn’t terrible, just annoying. So I blast my music and drum my fingers on the steering wheel to pass the time.
The sign for Gravity Hill gets painted every summer, so it always looks new, and I’m grateful to see it as we head into Cardis County.
It’s right before lunch, so I know Fern and Candy will be at the bakery, where Henry will want to be dropped off. So I swing by and let him out on the curb, he unfurls his legs on the sidewalk and stretches, arms up high, t-shirt riding up his torso. He’s oblivious to the women who sneak peeks at him as he does. Boy only has eyes for Banks.
Slamming the door shut he shouts bye and walks toward the bakery. I merge back onto main street and head home.
The gates are open, and when I park, Dad comes out to greet me.
“Talon,” he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest, “I missed you son.”
“Yeah, okay,” I tilt my shoulders to get out of his embrace.
He sighs, ready for our same old fight, though I’m not sure I want to fight about the school anymore. I surprise myself by saying, “I’m happy to see you too, Dad.”
His smile is more of a smirk, and he slaps his hands on my shoulders and squeezes, “how are classes?”
“Can I at least get my shit out of the car before you grill me about school?”
He laughs and offers to carry Henry’s stuff to his room. I point out his stuff and we head inside. We have a separate entrance to the house. It’s Creed and Fern’s house, the newly engaged couple lets us stay in the wing of the house they don’t use. Plus, it helps that our dads are all pretty important to Creed’s business.
Our part of the house has enough rooms to house ten individuals, a fully stocked game room, and three offices. I remember when those three offices were full of stuff from when Fern had a crazy ass stalker dude killing townies and leaving love notes for her with the bodies.
It was… not a good time.
However, I got to watch her gut the fucker, so it was kind of full circle.
Dad takes Henry’s stuff to his room and I plop my bags on my bedroom floor. God I’ve missed my bed.
The beds at Ravard aren’t awful, but it just isn’t home.
Luca rounds my door and tackles me into my bed.
“Ugh,” I grumble as he laughs at my discomfort, “get off me old man.”
“I can still take you, fucker,” he says, gripping my body tighter with his before shoving me into the floor.
I hit the carpet with a thud as Dad walks in laughing his ass off with Diego not far behind.
“Where’s the rest of the pack?” He asks, simple. We usually travel together, but Toby and Banks stall too much, and I was ready to get away.
“Henry’s at the bakery, and the other two couldn’t get their asses in gear last night to leave this morning.”
I shrug, not giving a shit if our dads care. We’re old enough that we know better than to travel alone, and unarmed. These mafia fuckers raised us to not make idiotic decisions.
Most of the time.
“Who’s driving?” Luca asks.
“Banks,” I answer.
“Ah, hell,” Diego swears, knowing his son isn’t the best driver on our team.
“They should be here soon,” I smile, patting him on the shoulder as I leave. Heading to the main room, where I have no doubt, Fern left snacks out.
She’s discovered baking, and loves to make us treats. The rest of the boys’ and I always joke with our dads that they’ll get fat and sluggish eating all the sugary shit she makes. But I don’t care. Most of it’s phenomenal, and I work out seven days a week. I can afford a few treats.
Dad comes to sit beside me and swipes one of the little desserts she left out for us.
“Those are for us,” I warn, knowing if Banks and Toby don’t get one they’ll pout.
He laughs, “Fern has been stress baking. Trust me, there’s plenty where this came from.”
Caught off guard, I replay his statement. Fern’s been stress baking?
I shouldn’t worry about her. She has Creed for that, but there’s just something about Fern that makes me want to… not hate her.
Kind of like Spice.
The difference is Spice has something to hide, and I know once I expose her father for being a cult leader, Mr. Finnighan will have to dismiss her.
The only reason I haven’t exposed her already is mainly because of Fern, and the rest of our fathers.
“You still giving that girl trouble, kid?” Diego walks into the room, ruining the silence–and my mood–with his question. Why does everyone seem to care about this girl?
I scoff instead of offering a response, so naturally dad pipes up, “that’s a yes.”
Sliding my eyes his way, I level him with a glare, “her father was a cult leader, she’s got to have… evil inside of her.”
My dad sighs and Diego nods his head, leaving the room the way he came. Dad turns to face me, wiping his hands together.
“Not every woman is your mother, son.”
I groan, not this again. I don’t hate women, I just don’t particularly care for them. Their ability to lie is uncanny, and their conscience–if they even have one–is self centered, at best.
“You have to stop battling every female you come across, none of them owe you anything,” he shakes his head, noting my obvious disdain for this conversation.
“Dad,” I start, hoping to shut down this line of conversation when the mudroom door opens and Fern comes through the kitchen into the living room.
“You little fucker,” she says, crossing the room to pull me up off the couch, and into her arms, “you couldn’t even come into the bakery?” Pushing me away when she’s had her fill to look me in the eyes.
I try to hide my smile, “did I hurt your feelings step-mommy?”
“You’re a little shit, you know that?” She says smiling, so I know she’s happy I’m home. And I can admit, it was a bit assholeish of me to not say hello.
“I’ve been called worse,” I smirk.
She slaps the side of my head and I pull her into my arms to hug her back this time. She’s the first woman in my life that’s felt… steady, and she’s marrying my dad’s fucking boss. Not that I thought of her romantically, that would be awkward.
“My wife, the asshole whisperer,” I hear Creed from the kitchen. When we separate I spot him leaning against the door jam with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, “welcome home, I expect the rest of you will be here for supper?”
“Yes, sir,” I mock salute, to which he flips me off and we all fall into easy conversation.
It’s good to be home, I feel like I can breathe again.