Chapter 4 Cillian
Cillian
Four years might as well have been a fucking lifetime.
Slipping the new phone into my back pocket, I attempt to take in everything that’s changed and what has stayed the same.
Life used to be routine and easy. I loved every fucking day.
Monday through Saturday I worked my shift in the garage, fixing up whatever came in. Unless we had a run, in which case it was days on end with the growl of the bike under me. Either way, work came and went easy enough and with good company.
Church, a.k.a. the club meetings, on Sunday and then family dinner after.
My father told me when I got out, he’d make sure everything was like it was before.
Now he’s six feet under and I would give anything to hear him offering me any advice at all to get through this.
The slow rumble of the truck keeps us company as I keep my ass in the seat, not knowing what to expect next.
“You look like today kicked your ass,” Reed comments half-heartedly as I turn off the engine and close the door to his truck.
“Thanks.” I huff a laugh and think back on Kat’s house. It’s small and in need of a powerwash and weeding. The whole house could use fixing up here and there.
I could do that. I could so easily take care of it for her.
“Rough night?”
I shrug before dragging my focus back to him.
His hands are already covered in oil, just as mine will be in a few hours.
My uncle didn’t waste any time putting me back to work.
One other thing has stayed the same as well.
Church is on Sunday and I’m damn well looking forward to that.
Until then, he told me to stick with Reed in the garage.
“It was all right. Slept off the beer and snuck out before she got up,” I tell him.
“Snuck out?” He lets out a chuckle, a smile growing on his face. “I know I keep saying it,” he starts, “but I missed you, man. We all missed you.”
At that remark, my thoughts run back to Kat. Reed must know it because he tells me, “She missed you. Trust me, man, she missed you.”
I stopped by her bedroom door at the crack of fucking dawn this morning and thought about pushing it open, but I didn’t.
Reed left his keys to the truck on the kitchen table.
I drove it to get a few things I needed, texted Reed I’d meet him here at the garage and waited and waited.
He only lives a few houses down and I thought about heading to his place instead; I couldn’t fucking stand to stay inside the garage.
Being there when it’s empty and ghosts linger in every room, was more than I could take.
So I stayed in the truck, waiting for his ass to get here.
I’ve never felt so fucking out of place in my life.
As our boots crunch on the gravel, he passes me one of the two cups of coffee from the corner shop. It’s cheap, like it’s always been, but hot. “You and Kat talk last night?”
“No.”
“You sleep all right?”
Nodding, I comment, “Pretty good,” which doesn’t do it justice.
For the first time in years, there were no lights shining in my eyes in the middle of the night. No fights. No screaming. Nobody losing his shit from being behind bars. It was the best sleep I’ve had since I went away. Only way it could have been better is if Kat was in the bed with me.
We go up to the third floor, past the garage on the first, then the rec room on the second where my life ended four years ago.
The office is different. It’s still shabby in the same way, with secondhand office furniture and filing cabinets, but it’s not quite like I recall.
Reed takes a seat in an old office chair behind one of the desks and I take the leather sofa across from him that I don’t remember from before. At least one thing has been updated.
The garage doesn’t open for another thirty minutes, so we’ve got time to kill.
“What’s it like with my uncle being in charge now?” I remember back in the day when he and my dad would go at it.
Reed’s thumb taps on the armrest, a telltale sign that’s always given away when he’s anxious.
“If I’m honest, I miss your pops.”
He died while I was in prison. I didn’t get to attend his funeral, and it’s one of my bigger regrets. I should have been there for that. Instead, I was in a cramped cell reading a warden-approved paperback book about metalworking.
“And things are still unsettled?”
“It’s more about the leadership now.” Reed rubs a hand over his face. “Duncan Tray, that prick from up north, tried to step in and negotiate with our contracts … so when your uncle insisted on voting for change, we went with it at first.”
“At first?” I hate that fucker Duncan with everything in me. When I was locked away, I know he paid people on the inside to fuck with me. He’s lucky he’s still breathing.
“Some of the members want to move into a bigger space and expand the operation. And others want to stay where we are, with what we have.”
“What do you think?”
Reed searches my eyes for a moment before telling me he’s one of the few who doesn’t feel comfortable expanding. “Your uncle wants to, though, and he hasn’t dropped it. It’s just … we’re heading past the territories we have agreements with.”
He’s tense, barely moving other than the nervous tap of his thumb. “The pres won’t let it go.”
I can only nod, taking it in and unsure of what this Sunday will be like.
Church was never contentious that I remember.
I was young, practically a kid, and I figured things would stay the same forever.
Church was for brainstorming ideas for the garage, for fucking around and giving each other a hard time.
For splitting cash after handing off deals for the organizations that relied on us.
The Cross brothers up north, and the Valettis down south with their connections to the docks.
We acted as a go-between and took a hefty chunk of change to make it worthwhile.
“I don’t see why we need to expand unless things have changed? Have we lost deals or taken smaller cuts or what?”
“No,” he says and his voice raises slightly as he shakes his head, “money is good. There’s no reason, that’s what I’m saying.” He hesitates and pauses his tapping before saying, “It should have been you who took over.”
All I can do is swallow down his statement with both bitterness and loss. I always knew eventually I’d take over my dad’s place in the MC. Years and years and years from now when my pops was gray haired and didn’t want to do it anymore.
Life’s a bitch.
For the second time today, I miss my father. If I closed my eyes right now, I could see him sitting there in place of my best friend. He sat in that seat nearly all my life.
My throat is so tight, I can’t even offer an opinion. I haven’t been back long enough to know which path is the right way forward. I haven’t been out long enough to know what I want to do with myself, let alone make a decision that would affect the club.
“You’ll vote with me on Sunday?” Reed questions nervously and I don’t hesitate to nod in agreement.
“Yeah,” I answer, my tone reflecting my apprehension given everything that’s changed.
“Sorry, man … it’s mostly good.” Reed shakes off the tension and relaxes his shoulders as he changes the subject. “You looking forward to seeing everyone?”
The coffee hasn’t cured my hangover yet and I don’t want to answer questions about prison. Many of the guys in the MC have been in jail for one thing or another, but I’m the most recent, the youngest … and I took the fall when any of them could have done it instead.
The more I think about it, the angrier I get.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and tell him, “It’s good to be home, I just … need a moment to get reacquainted I guess.”
I took the fall for the raid, and they’ve been careful since then. It makes me bitter to think about it. If Kat’s dad hadn’t fucked around the way he did four years ago, I wouldn’t have lost her, I wouldn’t have gone away and I would have been here when my pops’s health started going south.
Leaning back, I settle on something that brings a smile to both of us. “I’m looking forward to working on my bike,” I say.
“Working on her?” He grins and tells me, “I fixed her up so she’s practically brand new.”
I chuckle, nodding my gratitude.
My mind wanders to Kat. Thinking she’s all sorts of new to me too.
New and apparently off-limits. Or so she thinks.
Even if I can’t touch her, I want to be in that house.
Wanting that soft bed with her scent on it.
In prison I had to sit with all these feelings.
There was literally nothing else to do. I could try to jog them out in the exercise yard, but I was in my cell most of the day.
You learn to deal with the waves of rage.
Some guys do, anyway. Other guys go crazy in there. Who knows? Maybe I was one of them.
Reed eventually does some work on the computer. He makes a few calls. My uncle comes in and the three of us have a conversation that feels like it goes on forever, but only lasts about fifteen minutes. I’m getting back to life in the club. This is life in the club.
The garage is where I lose most of my time, remembering what could have been.
Working with metal and surrounded by the nostalgic smell of oil, the feel of labor bringing a burn to my muscles forces the time to tick by. For the first time since I’ve been out, there’s a moment of peace and ease. And naturally … my mind wanders back to her.
It always comes back to her.
It’s not until I climb into Reed’s truck, and he gets in behind the wheel that he brings her up. “You two …? What’s going on there?”
“I haven’t spoken to her in a year,” I tell him. He’s busy nodding his head while I admit, “But I want her back. I want us back.”
I keep my last thought unspoken as he turns over the engine: I need her back. If I have her, everything else will be right again. I fucking know it will.
I’ll make it right. I’ll make her love me again.