Chapter 1 #4
Ranger squeezed her as tight as he dared without crushing the baby. There must be pollen or road dust or something that bothered his sinuses, and made his eyes water. “Hey, little sis.”
Their hug lasted so long that the alarm for the doors not relocking in a timely fashion started to go off. Before Colby could reset the alarm, Keys announced, “Got it!” and a second later, the alarm stopped.
“I told you to stop messing with my system,” Ranger heard Colby say.
“And I told you to get a better system,” Keys snapped back at him.
Ranger ignored it, not willing to relinquish Becks yet. It wasn’t until he heard an odd click, followed by a whirling sound that he pulled his head up to see his mother standing there with a Polaroid camera, snapping pictures.
He groaned. Pulling back, he stage-whispered, “Really? You brought Ma?”
Becks chuckled, using his shirt to wipe away her tears. “You were able to keep her from visiting you here—which by the way, I am still pissed at you for. I had to hear about it every single day for three months how you wouldn’t let her come visit you.” She pinched his arm in retaliation.
“Ow!” he griped, even though it barely hurt. “I didn’t want her seeing me like that.”
The look in Becks’ eyes said that she thought he was an idiot. “The woman literally pushed you out her hoo-ha after thirteen hours of labor. Pretty sure she could handle seeing you here.”
Ranger made a face, never wanting to be a part of a discussion about his mother’s hoo-ha. “That’s an unfair argument. Are you planning on using it against your own kid?”
Becks snorted, “Damn right I am. Now, go say ‘hi’ and apologize your ass off for not allowing her here to see you, and then for good measure, promise to cover my half of whatever Christmas gift I plan for her from us this year.”
Shaking his head, Ranger stuck his tongue out at his sister.
She stuck hers out right back.
Approaching Loretta Fremont felt harrowing, but in his defense, no one ever wanted their mother to see them at their lowest point.
He allowed Becks and Ghost to visit because, frankly, she’d already seen him at his lowest, and he’d owed her an apology for that.
But his mom? He’d been too cowardly to face her, seeing the failure of his actions in her eyes.
At four-foot-nine, she was a nearly a foot and a half shorter than he was, and he knew she was pissed at him the moment he saw that camera.
It was her silent revenge, claiming that no picture from a Polaroid ever came out well.
He was pretty sure that was the same camera she’d had since the man he thought of as his father bought it with the intent of taking pictures of his wife following Becks’ birth.
It took Ranger many years to understand why his mom, who’d just given birth to his baby sister, spent her time in the hotel room taking the most awkward pictures of her new husband.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he approached.
His mom lifted the camera and took one more picture. “I made cookies. They’re at Becks’ house. I’ll decide in the car if you’re allowed to get any.”
Fuck. His mom’s cookies were legendary. Ranger had been known to refer to them as being more addictive than crack cocaine. Guess he was going to need a new analogy now.
Crooking her finger at him, Ranger lowered himself down to her level.
She straightened his shirt and cut, licked her finger before wiping it across his eyebrow, dusted non-existent crumbs off his face, fluffed his white-blonde hair unnecessarily.
And Ranger took it all, in front of his club brothers, because he knew he’d fucked up in keeping his mom away from him these past ninety-one days.
He didn’t know how long she was going to stay in Pennsylvania for this time.
Prior to his relapse, there’d been talk of finding her a house in Mount Grove to move to now that Becks was no longer working from home or planning on living in Atlanta, Georgia.
Her family was up in Pennsylvania now, as was her soon-to-be born grandchild.
Ranger did not know what the current plan was, or if she was going to be heading back down to their hometown of Scottsboro, Alabama, again, but he’d make it up to her. One way or another.
When his mom was done preening him, she tapped his chest with a flat hand over his heart.
“Don’t do this to me again, baby. Or not only will I not bake you pies anymore, but I’ll withhold them from your little friend group here.
” There was a collective groan through the lobby at the threat.
“I’m sure they’ll straighten you out for me, and I won’t have to lift a finger. ”
Unable to help himself, Ranger chuckled. Which was possibly the first time he’d smiled or made any sound of amusement in four long months. He knew that “this” wasn’t his relapse, but keeping her away from him while he was recovering.
“Never again,” he swore before lowering himself down even more so she could wrap her arms around his neck.
Yeah, he’d been a moronic coward for keeping her away.
As Dr. Sutton would say, Ranger’s stupid, masculine pride had bit him in his own ass.
Great, after ninety sessions with the man, he was now starting to think like him.
Straightening, Ranger faced his club brothers.
Ghost, Lucky, Bulldog, Jumper, Demo, Bear, Keys, Angel, Cage, Grumpy, Poker, Starbucks, Jigsaw, Pirate, Bones, Pumpkin, Scar, Papaw, Scooby, and Boots.
He did a double take, knowing of Grumpy’s extensive injuries, but not having seen the result of them before.
His own trauma and circumstances had kept him from being involved in most of the aftermath of the explosion that had claimed the lives of four people, including Frankie, who had become more of a club friend than an employee in recent years.
“Fuck, man. You look terrible.”
Grumpy snorted, the skin grafts along the right side of his face and neck appearing red and angry, almost like they were applied too tight.
His long hair covered the left side of his face, but the strap for his eye patch crossed over his forehead.
The last Ranger had heard, Grumpy was approaching the timing where he could get fitted for a prosthetic eyeball.
“It might be my lack of eye, but you ain’t winning any beauty contests either, brother.”
Shaking his head, Ranger turned to Ghost. They’d never really discussed the rift Becks and Ghost’s marriage had caused between Ranger and Ghost. Only minutes before the bar exploded with Ghost, Grumpy, and thirteen others inside and Cameron had taken Ranger and Becks hostage, Ranger had finally admitted to Becks what had been bothering him.
Ghost and he had never had the chance to discuss it before the world turned to shit.
It seemed so trivial now.
But knowing that Becks had Ghost while Ranger was stuck in here, knowing she had the support and protection of one of the best men Ranger knew, gave him the peace of mind he needed to concentrate on himself. He owed Ghost for that, even though the man had knocked up Ranger’s little sister.
But at least he’d put a ring on her finger first.
Ranger didn’t have to say any of this, though. The bear hug that Ghost and Ranger exchanged said it all, including Ghost’s relief and pride that Ranger was finally coming home.
“Was the fanfare really necessary?” Ranger asked, pulling away from his best friend.
“Clearly you don’t know my wife very well if you think this was happening any other way,” Ghost answered with a possessive tone to his voice. In his mind, the moment he claimed Becks, she was no longer Ranger’s sister, but Ghost’s wife.
Shaking his head, Ranger caught movement outside the front doors—which were also glass.
The large parking lot didn’t just have eighteen bikes in it, but also four large SUVs.
Surrounding them were all eleven of the remaining ol’ ladies and the horde of club kids that Ranger had long ago lost count of.
In front of them was a giant banner with colorful tiny handprints and the words,
Welcome Home, Uncle Ranger