27. Choices and Consequences
Choices and Consequences
"That's nothing." I snort, brushing the dirt off my pants as I stand up. "Last summer, daddy took me to the club for the annual skeet shooting competition." I shimmy my shoulders. "I won first place."
"Fucking right you did," Beau chuckles, settling down on the log and fishing a soda pop from the cooler he brought.
I'm surprised it's not beer, but he must remember daddy's rule.
"I always sucked at those. Daddy could never understand how my shooting aim was so bad, yet I could throw a no-look-pass for fifty yards and a touchdown. "
"Truthfully, I didn't either," I admit, my phone buzzing in my pocket. I check the caller ID, freezing. "Well...only took five weeks. "
Beau looks over my shoulder, cringing. "You gonna answer?"
"Nope," I say, muting my momma's attempt for contact. "I'll call her back later. She's probably gonna hound me about when I'm coming home."
"When are you planning on heading back to 'Bama?" Beau fidgets beside me. "Summer's almost over, Sav."
"I don't know." I sigh, looking around the dry desert full of nothingness; and surprisingly, I've never felt more full, more whole, more comfortable. "Classes start in a few weeks, but..." I shrug. "I don't feel like leaving yet."
"It's your last semester, right?" Beau asks, sipping on his cola. "After that, you're done?"
"Yup, I'll be just another girl with a general arts degree and no real direction.” I scoff. "Really going places, huh?"
"To the alter if I recall momma's plan correctly," Beau muses, casting me a cheeky side-eye. "Are you to be the future Mrs. Ronald Sutherland? Or was it uh—" Beau gazes thoughtfully into the distance. "Mrs. Frederick Hughes?"
I roll my eyes. "More like Mrs. I-Ain't-Cooking-For-No-Man."
Beau laughs. "That's cause you can't cook, Savvy. We both know you'd hire help."
My jaw drops. "Excuse me, I'll have you know that I can now cook several dishes, okay? Jesse taught me how to make lasagna, poached eggs, and the tastiest salmon you'll ever try."
Beau taps his soda can, lightly shaking his head. "Did he now? "
"Yup," I say, proud of my growing culinary skills. "And weren't those gingersnaps at the toy drive to die for? Jesse helped me with those too."
"Yeah, I figured," Beau hums. He turns to face me, clearing his throat. "Listen, Sav..."
"Don't get mad at him, Beau," I say, giving him a pleading smile. "I don't wanna cause a riff between y'alls friendship. This thing between Jesse and me—it wasn't like we planned for it to happen, okay? It just sort of did."
Beau clears his throat. "And what is this thing ? Y'all dating or?"
I shrug, hating that I don't know the answer to such a simple question. "Not sure."
"Is he the reason you don't wanna go back?" he asks nervously.
"Maybe a little," I muse out loud. "But...but I think it's more than that. I know that at first, I hated this place. I hated that you were here. It all seemed so grimy and gross and—" I wince, apologetic. "Sorry."
"S'okay."
"Anywho, I don't know." I close my eyes and tilt my head up at the clear skies.
"I seem to have changed my mind. The people here, they've...they've become my friends.
" I chuckle to myself. "Marlow's such a shit disturber, but I love her, and Pippa.
..she's like the older sister I've always wanted.
Even Andy doesn't bother me as much these days.
" Sighing, I turn my attention back to my brother.
"I can see why you love this place. These people. "
Beau swallows. "I love you, Savvy. You know that, right? "
"I know you do," I say, grabbing his hand. "And I love you too. I—" Understanding dawns on me. "And I respect you, Beau, and the choices you made. They were your choices and yours alone. I...I didn't have any right to judge 'em or think they were beneath you."
Choices. It all comes down to choices. Beau chose to join The Sons.
Miguel chose to approach me for information.
And now it's my turn to choose. Miguel said The Sons are vicious.
That they're criminals. That they're dangerous and evil.
I haven't seen that. If anything, I've seen the good.
I've seen the generosity. I've seen the love and loyalty that should accompany any family unit.
I love my brother. I don't want to see him put in jail, but choices come with consequences.
Beau knows the consequences. He's accepted them. And I'll accept them too.
"These are good people you've got around you," I say. "Sorry I didn't see it earlier."
"Savannah..." Beau bites his lip. "You?—"
"I didn't mean to dampen the mood or anything," I say, brushing off his sudden low energy. I jump up, nodding to the shot-up cans. "Speed this time? Ten in ten? What do you say?"
"Uh—sure." Beau casts me a weak smile. "Let me make a call first."
"Don't be too long now," I call out after him as he walks away. "I'm itching to kick your butt again."
When Beau's out of sight, I fish out my cellphone and pull up my photo app. My choice—the list—stares me right in the face. It's silly that a digital photograph can change so many people's lives. Swallowing, my finger hovers over the trash icon. And then, I solidify my choice.
I make my decision, hoping the consequences aren't too painful.
"What are you thinking about?" Jesse asks, the moonlight casting a glow on his face as he brings me closer to his chest. "You've been really quiet all night." He curls a finger under my chin, lifting my head up. "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong," I whisper, seeing a part of myself in his eyes. "If anything, everything feels...right." I lick my lips, snuggling against his warm, protective body. "I'm supposed to uh—I'm supposed to start school again in a few weeks here."
"School?"
"But I—I don't really know if I wanna go back to Alabama..." My pulse quickens as I attempt to gauge his reaction. He's pensive, deep in thought, gaze locked on the ceiling fan. "But...but I don't want to overstay my welcome either..." He swallows. "Jesse? What...what do you think I should do?"
"You want to stay here?" he asks, nodding. "In Hawkridge?" He faces me, his sharp features laced with soft pain. "I thought you hated it here."
"Things change," I whisper, stroking his stubbled cheek. "Don't they?"
"Sometimes without us even knowing," he breathes out. "Where would you stay?"
I narrow my eyes, unsure if he's suggesting I need to make other plans for accommodation. "Umm...I guess I thought I could keep living here...with you." Regret stirs in my belly. "But if you don't want me?—"
"I want you," Jesse admits in a hushed, rough tone. "I want you, Savannah. I want you in a way I've never wanted anyone in my whole life, but I—I don't think you should want me. Me, this life, you're meant for greater things than this. You deserve better than me. I'm not?—"
A deep frown mars my brows. "I don't think you get to decide what I deserve. That's my choice to make, not yours. And I—I'm choosing you, Jesse. I'm choosing you, knowing exactly who you are, good and bad."
Jesse's jaw clenches as he shakes his head. "You don't know everything, princess. You don't?—"
"Then I'll learn," I say, hopeful that he'll let me. "I want to learn. I know that we've never defined what we have, but we have something, Jesse—we do. And I think with enough learning, enough effort, this thing we have could become something priceless."
He twists his neck, intense gaze searching my face for a semblance of hesitation, but I have none. In my words, I'm certain. I'm ready, and I'm willing. I've made my choice.
"I could break your heart," Jesse says, cupping my cheek as his warm breath fans against my lips. "I could?—"
"And I could break yours," I whisper. "I think that's a risk we're both taking."
"I...I misjudged you, Savannah. I thought you were—" He swallows. "I didn't know you'd be exactly what I needed in my life." His touch turns tender, terrifyingly intimate. "I'm sorry, Savannah, I'm truly sorry."
"For what?" I ask, expelling a soft giggle. "I judged you too, Jesse. I judged all of you. I'm the one who should be sorry. You and The Sons welcomed me like one of your own. I know that I don't fit the typical mold of a...uh— old lady , but if you're willing to give it a shot, then so am I."
"You really want to do this? With me?" he asks, tone raw and rumbling. "Think carefully about that, Savannah, because"—he arches down, feathering his lips against mine—"I don't think I'd ever let you go."
"I'm counting on that," I breathe, closing the distance between us and kissing him with promise, with confidence, with complete disregard for the potential consequences. Jesse rests his forehead against mine. "This feels right, Jesse. This feels like?—"
"A new beginning," he mumbles. "You and me."
I smile like I've never smiled before. "Us."
“Yes, princess.” He swallows. “Us."
"I'm sorry," my momma says, scoffing, "the connection must be faulty because I did not just hear you say that you're going to stay in California."
"The connection's fine, momma." I sigh, throwing my head back. I knew this was how this phone call would go. "You heard what I said. I'm staying."
"The hell you are!" she cries. "You said you needed the summer, Savannah. The summer. Staying in California? Hah! You sure got yourself a strange sense of humor there, my dear. Your home is here, Savannah. Here . Not in some shitty town in the middle of nowhere!"
"I— "
"And what about school, huh? You're just going to drop out?! I can't believe I'm hearing this right now."
"I'm not going to drop out," I state, inwardly grunting. "I called the Office of the Registrar today and asked if I could finish up my degree virtually. It took a bit of word-twisting, but they've agreed to let me study remotely, okay? So don't worry, I'll finish my stupid degree."
"Is this about a boy?" she asks in a harsh tone. "Did you meet someone there, honey? Some surfer boy who swooned you with his silver tongue? Is that it? Are you throwing your whole future away for a boy?"
I stiffen at her accusation. "What future, momma? What future? What is it that I'd be coming back to, huh? Cocktail parties at the DAR? Socials to find me a suitable husband?"
"James Lockwood was asking about you this week," momma says, ignoring my questions. "He's recently acquired his daddy's company. He says that he's ready to settle down with a nice girl. A girl like you."
"Maybe I ain't a nice girl anymore, momma," I grunt. "Maybe I'm a bad girl. A super bad girl. Maybe I eat processed sugar and drink beer now!"
"Take it back!" she snarls. "You take that back!"
"No!" I exclaim, frustration rising. "This is my life, momma.
Mine . You don't get to decide how I live it, okay?
" I take a big breath, calming myself down.
I don't want to cut her out of my life. She's my momma.
I only have one. "Listen, I don't want to fight with you, okay?
I know you and daddy love me, I know you think you know what's best for me, but you need to trust me, momma.
You need to let me make my own mistakes and my own path in life.
And it's not like I'm going to be alone here either, okay? I've got Beau and Marlow and?—"
"Who's Marlow?"
"She's uh—" I close my eyes, cringing. "She's Beau's fiancée."
"Fi...fiancée?" Momma's voice wavers. "Beau...he's...he's engaged?"
"Yes, momma," I say as my phone chimes with a text message that states my online schedule has been emailed to me. "I gotta go now, momma, okay? Maybe we can talk again in a couple of days?"
"Engaged," she mumbles to herself. "My baby's engaged." I hear her swallow. "Uh—okay. We'll talk again later then. Engaged..." She hangs up.
I hope Beau won't kill me when he finds out I spilled the beans about his upcoming nuptials to momma. I'm sure he'd understand the situation though. I'm counting on it.
Shaking off the phone call, I pull up my mail app and press refresh, waiting for the email from the Registrar to pop up. When the page loads, I skim the spam mail, freezing on a reply from a sent email, the subject line reading: Attached.
My stomach drops out of my ass, my fingers trembling as I open the email. What the hell is this?
Miss Kingsley,
Intel was sound. We'll be in touch.
Regards,
M. Ramo s
Intel? What intel?! I didn't send him anything! I scroll down to the original email sent from me. From me?! I didn't send any emails. But I did. Apparently, I did. It's right here. An email dated only a few days ago.
Hello Miguel,
Please find attached the list I found. Hope this helps.
Best,
Savannah
I shake my head, not believing my eyes. What is this?! What is happening right now?!
Without thinking, I leap off my bed, shove my feet into the closest pair of shoes I can find, and run out the door. And I keep running. Running toward the truth. I run and I run and I run.
I didn't send this! I didn't do it! What is going on right now?
Panting and heaving, I turn down the block, the clubhouse in sight.
I pick up my pace, sprinting like a maniac.
As I burst through the bar, I ignore all the laughter and chatter, I ignore Marlow's voice, I ignore it all until I stop in the club's lounge, sweat dripping from my forehead, my ears stinging, my legs wobbly.
"One down, seven more to go!" Ryder shouts, holding a pint of beer in the air as Tiny, Rocco, and a few other members holler and hoot in celebration.
"To us!" Ryder snaps his head in my direction, smirking.
"Well, if it ain't the woman of the hour!
" He raises his glass again. "To Savannah, a rat who managed to kill a snake! "
The boys, seemingly all intoxicated, shout out, "To Savannah!"
I stand there, confused, as I watch them celebrate. Why are they celebrating?! What are they celebrating?!
"Savannah." I hear Jo's voice over the noise. She waves me over from the hallway. "Come here. I think we need to talk."
"What's going on here?" I ask, unable to get a grip on reality. "Why are they..."
"The FBI raided one of The Vipers' stash houses yesterday," she explains, leading me to the office.
I blink. "Vipers?"
Jo swallows, opening the door to Jesse's office. Billy, Jimbo, and Beau stand around his desk. "We're sorry, Savannah. It was the only way."
"What?" I ask, meeting Jesse's dark and apologetic gaze, and my heart breaks at the truth. "What's going on here?"