Chapter 21
GENEVIEVE
We keep our fucking mouths shut.
That was the plan we’d all decided on.
And over the next week, we did just that.
Dash and Draven worried that if we admitted to the truth, Tucker would retaliate against Isaiah and me—maybe others.
He’d see the lies we’d told during the meeting at the clubhouse as something organized.
Something Dash and the other former Tin Kings had done because of the old rivalry between clubs.
So we stayed quiet. And my pretend marriage was intact.
I wasn’t ready to give up Isaiah, not yet. Especially with the jury delivering Draven’s verdict tomorrow.
Jim had called an hour ago. The jury had reached their decision and would announce it in the morning.
None of us had expected their deliberation to last a full week. I’d hoped it had meant they were deadlocked. That maybe, just maybe, there was a chance at reasonable doubt.
But the fact was, the only way we’d set Draven free was with a miracle. We had to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, with refuting evidence to support it, that he hadn’t killed Mom.
Until then, today was our last Sunday breakfast at the diner.
I wouldn’t be able to eat here again after this.
“Stopped by to see Jim on Friday.” Draven shoved a bite of pancake in his mouth.
“You did? When?”
He chased his bite with a sip of coffee. “Lunchtime. You were out eating with Bryce.”
“Oh. He didn’t mention it.”
Draven shrugged. “Wasn’t a big thing. Just wanted to drop off his final payment.”
I nodded. “I see.”
Draven had been busy the past week, preparing for his inevitable incarceration. Once the jury announced their verdict, he’d either be a free man or immediately taken into custody until the sentencing hearing.
He was planning for the latter.
Draven had basically settled his estate, going so far as to clean out his house to put it on the market. February wasn’t a great time to list a house for sale in Montana but Draven had been prepared to do it anyway.
That was, until Dash and Nick found out. My half brothers had insisted the house be kept in the family. After all, it had been their mother’s home. Chrissy Slater may have passed, but her memory was alive and strong with her family.
My mom’s was too.
Besides the house, Draven’s life was wrapped up. He was maybe the most prepared man in history to face a verdict.
“Jim sure is impressed with you. Doubt he’d be any prouder if you were his own.”
“I’m lucky to work for a guy like him. He’s taught me a lot. Gives me responsibility and trust. It’s the best job I’ve ever had.”
“Ever thought about getting your law degree? Jim said you’d make one hell of a lawyer. Even said since he and Colleen don’t have kids, you’d be a great partner.”
It would be a dream come true to be Jim’s partner at his firm. But it was one of those faraway dreams I wasn’t counting on or working toward. No one in Clifton Forge knew I’d once planned to become a lawyer, not even Isaiah.
I poked at my omelet with my fork. “Maybe someday.”
“Why not now?”
“There aren’t many accredited law schools in Clifton Forge.”
“No need for you to stay here.”
“How about for Isaiah? I won’t leave him to deal with this mess alone.”
Draven leaned forward. “When you first told us you two were married, I knew something was up. But then after a while you relaxed together. Tell me honestly, did this become something real?”
“Nothing like putting me on the spot,” I muttered, making his lips turn up.
Draven’s smile was something I’d seen more often lately. And around him, I smiled easier too. There wasn’t some big moment where we’d become comfortable around each other. It had crept up on us the way a cloudy sky would clear to blue when you weren’t paying it any attention.
“So?” he pressed.
I picked up my fork, stabbing a strawberry and shoving it in my mouth.
Was this something real? Did I love Isaiah?
He was my best friend. He was there for me every day.
When something happened at work that made me laugh, he was the first person I wanted to tell.
When I woke up some mornings in a foul mood, he made me coffee with cream because it almost always cheered me up.
The chocolate chip cookies I made every week weren’t for me anymore—they were Isaiah’s.
Was that love?
The only person I’d truly loved had been Mom. She’d told me she loved me often. Daily, especially when I was a kid.
Maybe it didn’t count as love until I was brave enough to tell Isaiah.
“I won’t leave him.” My answer—telling as it was—would have to suffice. Besides, Draven was smart enough to read between the lines.
I was very much in love with my husband, and when it came time to tell someone, Isaiah would be the first to know. There were times when I would have guessed Isaiah loved me too.
Or did his heart still belong to Shannon?
It was odd to be jealous of a ghost.
“So you’ll stay here. For how long?” Draven asked.
“As long as it takes.”
We went back to our meals, clearing our plates the way we did every Sunday. I’d curse myself in an hour for being too full, but the pancakes were delicious and however they made the omelets, the cheese was gooey and so tasty I couldn’t pass it up.
I was savoring my last bite when a figure appeared at the edge of our table.
“What the actual fuck, Draven?” Presley shouted, drawing attention from the entire restaurant.
We normally had some attention anyway—presumed murderer and all—but this was more than chaste glances and whispers.
Draven didn’t even blink. “Mornin’, Pres.”
She glared down at him, her fists planted on her hips. Presley wasn’t a tall woman. She stood only a few inches above five feet. I was five seven in bare feet, and I towered over her whenever I wore heels. Despite her physical size, she cast an intimidating shadow over our table.
Presley ordered the guys around at the garage, running it like a well-oiled machine. Draven, though technically retired, covered most of the office work because Dash preferred tools versus pens in his grip. Now that Draven was leaving, they’d both spent a month teaching her more about the business.
They’d added her name to the bank accounts. She invoiced customers, paid bills, signed contracts and managed payroll. And last week, they’d christened her with the official title of Office Manager.
Did she not want the job? Had something else happened? Isaiah spoke highly of Presley. I hadn’t had a ton of interaction with her other than the rare group activity or in passing, but she was always so controlled and poised. To see her fuming was definitely a change.
I closed my mouth. It had been hanging open, food visible.
“Had to be done,” Draven said like the entire room didn’t have eyes aimed our way.
What had to be done? What was this about?
“You overstepped,” she snapped.
“I did what I should have done day one. You’re too good for him, Pres.”
Ahh. So this was about Jeremiah. They were still engaged, much to the chagrin of everyone at the garage. Presley had assured everyone that the Warriors didn’t come to their place anymore. Jeremiah still met with them, but outside their home.
And though it irritated the guys at the garage to no end that she wouldn’t dump his sorry ass, they hadn’t told her about the drama with the Warriors.
She didn’t know they’d come after me. She didn’t know they were a threat. So how could we blame her? Presley was in the dark, taking the side of her fiancé.
“It’s not your business,” Presley snapped.
“He wants to join the Warriors.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, he doesn’t. He was hanging out with a few of them for a while, but I haven’t seen them in weeks. Besides, he promised me he wouldn’t join that club.”
“His promises don’t hold a lot of water. When’s he gonna get around to buying you a ring? Set a wedding date yet?”
Her nostrils flared. “Why are you doing this? Why are you making me hate you right now?”
Draven’s eyes didn’t narrow like I’d expected. They softened. “I won’t be here to walk you down the aisle. Doing my best while I can to make sure the man you meet at the end of it deserves to be standing there.”
Presley had asked Draven to walk her down the aisle? A pang of jealousy hit. If I ever had a real wedding, he wouldn’t be there to give me away either.
The fury on Presley’s face washed away with the sheen of tears in her eyes.
“I know you don’t like Jeremiah. He’s just .
. . going through a phase. Trust me. Please?
I’ll be fine. And would you stop talking like you’re dying?
” She slid into the booth beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“It’s not like you’re never going to see us again. ”
“No.” Draven’s definite tone made Presley sit up straight. “I won’t see you again.”
My spine stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“If they find me guilty, which they will, I’m going away. You girls are not to visit me.” He pinned me with his stare. “I don’t want either of you in that place.”
“But—”
“Ask Isaiah. Ask him if he’d want you in there. If he says yes, I’ll reconsider.”
Isaiah wouldn’t say yes. There was a shadow in his eyes when he thought about that place. While he’d confided in me about Shannon’s death, I knew his time in prison would never be a discussion point for us.
He’d shelter me from its horrors.
Draven would do the same.
I wasn’t ready to give up my father.
In a way, Draven had helped me let go of some of the resentment I had toward Mom. He was charismatic. He was brutally honest, even harsh at times. He didn’t hesitate to plow past the bullshit and talk about something uncomfortable head-on.
He was a pain in the ass.
I loved him for it.
And I could see how Mom had fallen in love with him too. Not that her actions were right, but I saw why she’d loved him.
Draven had this pull about him, this utter confidence. Not many men accused of murder would walk into the diner with his swagger. He didn’t give a shit what other people thought. The only opinions that held any weight were those of his family and friends.