Honey’s Harley Holiday (Jacksonville Saints MC #28)

CHAPTER ONE

HONEY

“Have a wonderful Christmas break. I’ll see you all next year!” I call out over the excited chatter of my first-grade class as the last bell of the day rings, releasing them.

Little bodies in festive sweaters and Santa hats swarm around me as they flood out the door, some hugging my legs while others wave goodbye. Twenty-two sugar-fueled six-year-olds hopped up on candy canes and Christmas cookies make for quite the sendoff.

“Bye, Miss Mitchell!” “Merry Christmas, Miss Mitchell!”

With a smile on my face, I wave until the last of my students disappears into the hallway, then collapse into my desk chair with a sigh that comes from the very depths of my soul.

Holy smokes, what a day.

Closing my eyes, I soak in the silence, letting it wrap around me like a warm blanket. Don’t get me wrong. I love my students with my whole heart, but dear baby Jesus, I’ve been counting down the days until this break.

A few moments of peace before I have to—

“Mom!” Jackson’s voice echoes down the hallway seconds before he bursts through my classroom door, his blue eyes bright with excitement, and his backpack bouncing against his small frame.

I open my eyes and smile at my baby boy. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Is it time to go to our new house yet?”

Tommy follows close behind, his face more reserved, but I can see the spark of curiosity in his eyes. At eight, he thinks it’s his job to be the man of the house.

“Almost, buddy.” I climb to my feet, the second of kid-free time gone, and start gathering my work bag and purse. “Just need to grab my coat and we can head out.”

“Can I have a snack?” Jackson asks, already unzipping his lunch box to inspect what might be left inside. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Tommy says with the world-weary sigh of an older brother, but he’s already checking his own lunch box for scraps.

I ruffle Jackson’s auburn hair. “We’ll grab something on the way, okay? Let me just make sure I have everything.”

My fingers trail over my desk, mentally checking off my to-do list. Grades submitted.

Classroom clean. Plants watered. My eyes catch on the small stack of Christmas cards from my students, each one covered in glitter that has somehow managed to infiltrate every surface of my classroom, my clothes, and probably my DNA at this point.

“Did you like the cookies Sophia’s mom sent?” Jackson asks, his cheeks still showing traces of red and green frosting.

I smile, thinking of the elaborate Christmas cookies Monica Ramirez sent in with her daughter. “They were delicious. Maybe we can try making some like that over break.”

Jackson’s eyes light up, but Tommy’s brow furrows slightly. I know what he’s thinking – our new rental doesn’t even have an oven yet. I silently promise myself I’ll figure something out if the landlord hasn’t installed one by the time we get the keys today.

“Ready, boys?” I heft my bag onto my shoulder, feeling the weight of not just papers to grade, but all my hopes for this fresh start.

The boys nod, and we head toward the exit, the fluorescent lights of Meadow Lands Elementary School buzzing overhead. The hallways are practically empty now, most everyone having bolted for the doors the second the final bell rang, declaring the day over.

We’re almost to the exit, just a few more steps to freedom and three glorious weeks without having to set an alarm—

“Honey! Wait up!”

My steps falter at the sound of Sean Milner’s voice. I feel Tommy tense beside me, his hand instinctively reaching for mine. My eight-year-old has better instincts about men than I’ve ever had.

I force my lips into my most professional smile and turn around. “Hi, Sean. Heading out for the holidays?”

Sean adjusts the collar of his polo shirt, smoothing it unnecessarily. His perfectly styled blonde hair doesn’t move an inch as he jogs up to us. “You bet. Big plans, actually.”

Jackson starts bouncing on his toes, fidgeting as only a six-year-old who’s been sitting all day can. Sean’s eyes narrow.

“Boys,” he says in that condescending, authoritative tone he uses with children that makes my spine stiffen. “This is a hallway, not a playground. Let’s use our indoor behavior.”

I feel Tommy step closer to me, his body going rigid. My hand lands protectively on his shoulder.

“They’re fine,” I say, my voice pleasant but firm. “Just excited for break to start.”

Sean’s attention shifts back to me, his smile appearing so quickly it’s almost unsettling. “Speaking of break, I was wondering if you had any plans? There’s this new restaurant downtown I’ve been wanting to try...”

He trails off expectantly, and I realize with a sinking feeling this is the fourth time he’s asked me out this month. Each time, I’ve tried to let him down gently, citing being too busy with the boys or grading papers.

“Mom,” Tommy tugs at my hand, his voice low. “We need to meet the landlord, remember?”

Bless you my child for helping me move this along.

“That’s right,” I say, grateful for the reminder even though it’s been the only thing on my mind for weeks. “Actually, Sean, we’re moving this weekend. I’ve found a new place for us.”

“Moving?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Where to? Maybe I could help. I’m surprisingly strong despite my lean physique.” He flexes his puny bicep, as if to demonstrate.

“No!” I blurt out, then immediately feel my cheeks heat up. “I mean,” I plaster on another fake smile. “That’s very kind, but we’ve got it handled. My cousin is helping us.”

“But surely you could use another set of hands,” Sean persists, stepping closer. I catch a whiff of his expensive cologne. “I’m free all weekend.”

“Mom, I’m starving,” Jackson whines, tugging on my other hand. “My tummy hurts.”

Thank the Gods for hungry children.

“I’m so sorry, Sean, but we really need to go,” I say, already backing toward the door. “The landlord’s waiting for us, and Jackson needs his medicine with food.”

It’s not exactly true that he needs his insulin right this second, but Sean doesn’t know that, and I’m not above using my son’s medical condition as an excuse when necessary.

Sean’s expression falls, but he recovers quickly. “Well, maybe after you’re settled in? New Year’s Eve, perhaps?”

“We’ll see,” I say noncommittally. “Enjoy your break, Sean. Merry Christmas.”

I hustle the boys toward the exit before he can respond, feeling his eyes on my back the entire way.

“Is Mr. Milner going to be your boyfriend?” Tommy asks as soon as we’re through the doors, his voice dripping with disgust.

A snort escapes me before I can stop it. “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” Tommy says firmly. “I don’t like him. He’s not nice.”

“Me either,” Jackson pipes in, though I suspect he’s just agreeing with his brother.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” I assure them as we approach our minivan. It’s parked at the far end of the lot, packed to the brim with all of our belongings. “The only men in my life are you two handsome devils.”

Tommy looks relieved, but Jackson frowns. “What about Dad?”

My heart gives a painful squeeze at the loss my boys feel from not having Eddie around. “Your dad doesn’t live with us, silly.”

“But he’s still your boyfriend, right?” Jackson presses.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “No, dummy. Mom and Dad aren’t together like that.”

“Don’t call your brother a dummy,” I say automatically, unlocking the van. “And no, Jackson. Your dad and I aren’t together. We haven’t been since before you were born.”

“Then why does he still call you ‘babe’ when he calls?” Jackson asks, his face scrunched in confusion as he pulls the handle to open the rear sliding door.

Because your father is a manipulative asshole who doesn’t understand boundaries.

I don’t say that to my five year old, of course. “That’s just... an old habit,” I lie, helping him into his booster seat. “Seat belts, please.”

Once their buckled in, I climb into the driver’s seat and twist the key into the ignition. The van graons and stutters before reluctantly coming to life.

Thank the Gods. The last thing I can afford right now is my only source of transportation dying on me.

“How was your day, boys?” I change the subject as I carefully back out of the parking space. “Did you have fun at your class parties?”

“We watched The Polar Express and had hot chocolate with marshmallows!” Jackson chirps, instantly distracted from thoughts of his father. “And Sophia shared her candy canes with me!”

“That was nice of her.” I glance at the boys in my rearview mirror. “How about you, Tommy?”

Tommy shrugs his shoulders. “It was okay. We had pizza and watched The Grinch.”

I chuckle. That’s my oldest. Always playing it cool.

“Mrs. Rivera brought in cookies shaped like snowflakes,” he adds after a moment, a hint of a smile breaking through his serious facade. “They had blue sprinkles and icing.”

“Yum! That sounds good,” I admit, turning onto the main road. “We’ll have to make some of those cookies, too, during break.”

“I don’t see why we had to move,” Tommy grumbles, looking out the window. “All my friends live in Pembrooke.”

And just like that, all talk of Christmas parties is done.

Sighing, my eyes flick to the rearview. I know this move wasn’t on his BINGO card. I get it. And he’s had to adapt to so much in his life. Leaving behind the few friends he’s made is just one more thing to change.

“I know it’s tough, buddy,” I say gently. “But you’ll make friends at the new house.”

I glance at him again in the mirror and catch him rolling his eyes.

“And our new house has three bedrooms, so you and Jackson will have your own room. No more sharing with mommy,” I add.

“So?” His arms cross over his chest.

“And it’s in a safer neighborhood,” I tack on.

“The old neighborhood wasn’t that bad,” he insists, though we both know that’s not true at all.

Just last month, there was a shooting right outside our building. Tommy had been the one to pull Jackson to the floor when we heard the gunshots, his little body shielding his baby brother’s. No eight-year-old should have those kinds of reflexes.