PROLOGUE
“Nova, don’t touch that.” Shelby smacked my hand before my fingertips could skim over the gleaming chrome on Daddy’s motorcycle.
“What?” I shot her a glare and touched the metal anyway, feeling its warmth from the afternoon sun.
She rolled her eyes as the screen door smacked closed and Dad walked out of the house with TJ on his hip.
TJ was eight and too big to be carried around. I was ten and Mom said I was growing like a weed. But no matter how big TJ or I got, Daddy still picked us up. Except Shelby. She was thirteen and I think Daddy would have tried but she didn’t like it anymore.
She didn’t like him anymore.
Mom sniffled as she followed Dad down the driveway and my heart sank.
She always cried when he left. We all did.
Except Shelby.
“Be good for your mom.” Dad set TJ on his bare feet, then knelt in front of my brother and leaned in, whispering something in his ear.
TJ nodded and puffed up his chest. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy.” Dad stood and ruffled TJ’s dark hair, then walked over to Shelby and me standing beside his bike. He held out his arms to my sister. “Got a hug goodbye?”
She shot him a glare.
“Come on, Shelby. Don’t be like that.”
“My name is May.” She took a step away from him and crossed her arms.
I rolled my eyes. Daddy called us by our middle names but lately she only wanted to go by her first name, May. Even when I called her Shelby, she’d get mad at me and pinch my arm.
My sister was a brat. That’s what TJ and I called her.
Daddy rubbed at the whiskers on his face, the hair scratching against his palm. Then he took one long step to Shelby and pulled her into a hug. She might say she didn’t want one, but it wasn’t like she tried to push him away either.
He let her go and came to me, arms wide open.
I fell into his embrace, burying my face in his shirt and squeezing my eyes shut as I hugged his waist as tight as I could. Maybe if I hugged him hard enough, he’d stay a little longer. “Do you have to go already? You just got here.”
We hadn’t seen him in three months and this visit had only been two days. Normally he would stay for a week. Sometimes ten days. Those were the best visits. Those were the days when Mom smiled and TJ laughed and I hugged Dad every chance I got.
“Yeah, Nova. I gotta go.”
Mom would be sad now. TJ would pout for the rest of the day and probably most of tomorrow. Shelby would be grumpy and lock herself in her room. And I’d go back to waiting, marking my calendar and wondering when we’d see him again.
I hugged him tighter. His black leather cut was soft against my skin. He wore it everywhere, other than in the house. Beneath the fabric, I felt the straps of his holster and the sharp metal of the gun tucked against his ribs.
Daddy always carried a gun so that if the bad guys came, he could keep us safe.
“When are you coming back?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Soon, I hope.”
Soon was never soon enough.
He peeled my arms away and knelt in front of me like he had with TJ. “Help your mom with the chores.”
“Okay.”
“Study hard.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“Remember to keep your secrets. Can I count on you?”
“Yes.” He could always count on me.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“That’s my good girl.” He kissed my cheek, his goatee tickling my chin, then he stood and took a pair of sunglasses from the collar of his shirt. He slid them over his dark eyes and turned, walking to Mom.
She fell into him, much like I had, holding tight like maybe she could make him stay.
He whispered something to her that made her arms fall away. Then, like TJ, she nodded and lifted her chin.
She wouldn’t cry until he was gone because Daddy didn’t like weakness.
He took a step away from her, but Mom’s hand shot out, brushing his elbow.
“We love you, Tucker.”
“I love you too. Be careful.”
“Always.” She went to TJ, pulling him against her leg.
Daddy climbed on his bike, his legs straddling the machine. He looked to Shelby, waiting for something, but she kept her arms crossed. She stared at a mailbox, at the blocky white painted letters on its side that read JOHNSON.
She’d painted our last name on it five days ago. The mailman knew exactly who lived here, we’d lived here our entire lives, so it wasn’t like the name was necessary. Shelby wouldn’t admit it, but I think she’d done that to irritate Daddy because Johnson wasn’t his last name.
It wasn’t really ours either.
It was Talbot. Legally, it was Johnson, but in our hearts, we were Talbots—that’s how Mom had explained it.
With one last look at Mom, Dad started the engine of his Harley and the roar forced me back a step, the rumble vibrating the sidewalk beneath my feet. Then he was gone, a streak of black down the road that disappeared too soon around the corner.
We all stood there until the echo from his bike disappeared.
Mom didn’t say a word as she turned and retreated into the house, the screen door smacking closed.
“Great, now she’s going to cry all day.” Shelby kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. “I wish he’d just stop coming back.”
“Shelby,” I hissed.
“May.”
“Whatever,” I muttered. “Why are you so mean to Daddy?”
“He doesn’t love us, June.”
“That’s not my name.”
“Yeah, it is. Sooner or later, you’re going to need to get used to it.”
“Shut up, Shelby.”
“May,” she corrected again.
“Daddy does too love us.”
“He loves his club more.”
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped because she was right. Daddy loved the Arrowhead Warriors.
But was that such a bad thing? That club was the reason we had such a nice house.
It was the reason we always had new shoes and new clothes and Mom didn’t have to work.
Being in his club was his job. It wasn’t that different from our neighbor three houses down whose dad was in the Army and he was gone all the time too.
“I hate his club,” Shelby spat.
“Well, I don’t.”
TJ marched over and slipped his hand into mine. “I don’t either.”
“Because you two are stupid.” Shelby huffed and before I could think of a comeback, she walked away.
Her best friend lived two blocks away. She’d go there and jump on their trampoline and they’d talk about boys. Shelby would pretend she didn’t care that Dad was gone and that it didn’t hurt her when he left.
Shelby was the best at pretending. But she’d had more years to practice.
“What did Daddy say to you?” I asked TJ when Shelby was far enough away she wouldn’t hear.
“It’s a secret.”
Daddy always told TJ the secrets, and TJ never told me what they were. It was because TJ was a boy.
“I’ll give you five bucks if you tell me.”
TJ pondered it for a minute, then he shook his head. “Nope.”
Figures. Why couldn’t I know the secrets? I was good at keeping them. We all were.
Because our lives depended on it. That’s what Dad said.