Ryker’s Renegade (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Dogwood Ridge, TN Chapter #2)

CHAPTER 1

EZRA

Jessi shakes her head as she eyes the paper maché monstrosity in front of me.

I’m not sure why she’s eyeing it like it’s new considering she’s been with me every step of the way as I made a craft dream into reality.

It’s the centerpiece of my classroom décor and has to be done before the school year starts.

And it’s not like I really get to take the summer off. Not when you can’t sleep on fundraiser opportunities around here and want to get your club to the capital. Again.

“You need to stop eyeing my bell,” I warn her with a smile on my face.

“I’m just in awe,” she tells me and puts her scissors down.

Our classrooms are always very different. Or maybe it’s because she’s teaching English and she has stories to rely on, ones which will hook at least a few students. I’m teaching history. Talk about a snore-fest for most of the class.

They only see it as stuff that happened too long ago to matter. I want to help them see the story of our past and how the choices people made have shaped our existence. I’m not sure if I’m doing a good job, but I think the first step is to ensure they don’t walk into a boring classroom.

I give the paper maché Liberty Bell a spin from where I have it hanging in front of me. My small table is filled with spools of disco style mirror tiles. And glue. I’m going to use so much glue.

“I wonder if I should order another case of glue,” I muse, more to myself than Jessi.

When she snorts, I look at her to find her nodding. “Can you ever really have enough glue?”

“That sounded kind of like an attack on my character,” I deadpan.

She smiles at me before taking a big drink of her wine. “I’m just saying,” she holds up one hand in surrender.

When I stick my tongue out at her, we laugh together.

That’s how it is with us after being friends for so many years.

I’m just glad she’s only a few hallways away from me all day.

We can do our own thing, and we do, but it’s nice to have backup.

Especially during meetings and when doing anything faculty related.

Yikes.

“Just wait and see, this disco Liberty Bell is really going to tie the whole room together,” I warn her with a smile.

“I have no doubt,” she looks around the room where I’ve already started gathering other supplies, most of them very patriotic looking since now is the time to snatch them up. “You’re going to get so many good deals soon on everything red, white, and blue.”

I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “If you don’t think that was part of the reason I chose the American Revolution as a theme, then you should give me more credit for my brilliance.”

She bows slightly and makes a twirly motion with her hand, her voice contrite and teasing, “My sincerest apologies. I should have just assumed such ingenuity was nothing but good planning.”

“Clearly,” my voice is haughty, my nose tipped up into the air.

I sit back and look at my creation, held together by hope and chicken wire, and marvel a little. Normally I would have just hung up a plastic replica.

But then I saw a video on social media where a woman was covering an oversized pepper with mirror tiles. I could easily see a DIY disco ball extravaganza in my future. And why not the Liberty Bell?

It really will pull the room together.

“Are you almost ready for the fair?” Jessi asks the question hesitantly, and I don’t blame her for it.

The fair stresses me out every year. For the Youth in Government club I run at the school, it’s our biggest fundraiser. If it doesn’t go well, it puts the year-end trip to the capital in jeopardy. My kids want to go on the trip and take over the capital.

They’re not the only ones who want to go because I’m already too excited about it. You’ll never understand the feeling of seeing one of your students debate on the floor of the capital building until you experience it. It’s a glimpse into a future they could have.

I’m always left exhausted after the trip. And inspired.

We’re going again next year. As long as the fundraiser earns enough.

“It’ll be good,” I chirp the words. I hope saying them out loud will make them come true.

Jessi’s mouth turns down in a frown as she stares at me. “I’m not buying your bullshit, Ez,” she lets me know. “Now, spill. Lay it all out there. Get it out. You’ll feel better and I’ll have helped a little. Win-win.”

“You’re just asking me to rant about the million lists I’ve made in my head,” I try to deflect.

The look Jessi is giving me speaks volumes.

I take a deep breath and start talking fast. “Everything is set. We have tables, chairs, and the tent from last year. Everything is clean and ready to go to the fairground when we’re able to set up.

The kids have worked their asses off going to businesses to ask for donations for the silent auction.

Some things have been donated anonymously. ”

“Then what’s the problem?” She studies me closely. “It sounds like everything is under control. This isn’t your first year doing this. You know it’s all handled.”

“But until it all happens, I’m going to be a knot of anxiety,” I whine without a single hint of shame.

If you can’t whine when talking to your best friend, are they really your best friend? I mean, honestly.

“Got it. Everything will be fine. My job is to remind you of that about a gazillion times between now and the fair,” she says it without a hint of judgement. Just fact.

And that’s why I love this girl.

I grin from ear to ear and sigh; my hands pressed to my chest in total swoon mode for a moment before reaching for the glue. Again. “You just get me,” I bat my eyelashes at her.

She snorts out a laugh before going back to whatever she’s making, but I can tell her heart isn’t in it. I’d love to just bask in it being summer, but before I’m ready it’ll be time to be back in the classroom. My Liberty Bell isn’t going to disco-ize itself.

“You know you can put me to work,” she offers.

My shoulders relax and I nod. I do know, but asking people for help feels foreign. Even after being friends with her for so long.

“Could you come and help me supervise the kids? I’d like to be able to see some of the fair too.” I blush and bite my lip. “I’d like to take some pictures. Whenever I put a new print up on my website, I get a few sales.”

“It’s because you’re talented,” she says it like it’s obvious.

It isn’t.

Not to me.

“And of course I’ll take a shift or two at the tent,” she waves her hand and abandons the scissors in favor of her wine completely.

Her mouth twists to one side like she’s considering something before asking, “Have you heard about what happened between Graycie and your dad at Dolly’s Place?”

I know she’s not asking maliciously, but my heart still sinks. My dad is not a subject I like to spend a lot of time on. It’s complicated.

He’s not a bad man. No, in fact he’s a good man. I think that’s what makes it even harder for me. Because even though I feel a certain way about him, I also see how much care he puts into protecting the town and doing his job.

I don’t even begrudge him that. He should be invested in being the sheriff. I just wish the cost weren’t his high expectations and how much stress he puts on appearances.

There were times when it felt like I was drowning. Honestly, it’s how I felt most of the time, at least after a certain age when I couldn’t lie to myself anymore about the weight of it all.

Then there were the rules. So many rules. He treated our house like it was his station, and he was definitely the man at the top of the hierarchy. I always had to be the best.

Always.

My grades had to be at the top of the class; it was pressure I endured for years.

Even in college, he was always asking me about my grades and my classes.

I suppose the only good thing was that he didn’t push me to be a doctor or a lawyer.

When I told him I wanted to be a history teacher, he supported me.

When I was growing up, I had some teachers who made the days better, they tried and were passionate about teaching us. They’re why I came back to Dogwood Ridge after college. It was my hope to be that teacher for another kid.

“I heard,” I cut my eyes at Jessi, “and I also expressed my displeasure at his treatment of such a nice woman.”

When I shoot her a pointed look, she sighs and grumbles, “Let me guess, he wasn’t interested in hearing it.”

With a touch to the side of my nose I confirm, “Got it in one.” I shake my head and wrap another row of mirrors around my bell slowly.

“I get that Graycie is with Snake, which I know is a disappointment to him, but the way he’s harassed her more than once is too far.

” I can’t keep the disappointment out of my voice and I don’t even try.

“He’s never tried to hide how he feels about the club,” there’s a note of sadness in Jessi’s voice.

It’s there whenever she talks about the Saints Outlaws MC. When we were growing, she was best friends with a club brat. Considering her father is the mayor, who never was a big fan of the club either, she had to fight for their friendship.

I don’t know exactly what happened after graduation, but they weren’t friends anymore. She’s avoided him and the club ever since. Considering how my dad has felt about them, I keep my distance.

That doesn’t mean I’m blind.

The men who ride with the Saint’s Outlaws patch on their backs are hot. Sexy. Far too tempting for me to get too close.

“He backed off when her pregnancy came out,” I sigh. “At least there’s that.”

I’m pouting. I can’t help it. My dad’s behavior was too far. He’s gotten more strident over the years, which is saying a lot because it’s not like the man was ever chill. It’s not a mode he’s capable of.

How the man is ever going to be able to retire is a mystery to me. I can’t picture it. Literally, the concept is completely foreign to me.

“We should call her,” she muses.

“We should,” I agree. “I wouldn’t mind a chocolate chunk cookie while we’re at it,” I joke. I’m only partially joking.

They’re delicious, but the cookies would be secondary.

Graycie is an amazing person. We didn’t get super close, not like the friendship she has with Opal, who happens to be Snake’s little sister, but I’d consider her a friend.

“I bet she has her hands full,” Jessi says it slowly and grimaces slightly.

When our eyes meet, we fall into a cavalcade of giggles. It feels good and helps to melt away the last of the heaviness that always comes after talking about my dad.

I’m sure a therapist would have a field day with that. They’d tell me it’s the vestiges of the pressure he’s put on me my entire life. Honestly, they wouldn’t be fucking wrong.

Still, laughing with my best friend is just what I need. For now.

“Speaking of having her hands full,” I shoot Jessi a look and she arches an eyebrow in question, “how’s your sister doing?”

Her face softens. “She’s great,” her voice is bright and genuine. “You know I love seeing her happy.”

And Helen is happy. The Sheriff from the next county over swept her off her feet. As it should be.

Now she’s over in Sweetwater Valley, which has always been Dogwood Ridge’s biggest rival.

It’s been true in high school football, which isn’t to be taken lightly around here, and it’s widely accepted that the people over the ridge in Sweetwater Valley turn their nose up at us and think they’re so much better than us.

Now, is that really true? For some people, absolutely. All of them? No way.

No one really takes the whole thing seriously. Unless we’re talking about our homecoming game. Then, all bets are off.

You better believe I don’t miss that game. I’m out there in school colors with footballs painted on my face. Because school spirit has to start with me. Right?

Jessi is always in the stands next to me.

“Good,” I sigh while ignoring a pang of jealousy that has no place here, “she deserves it.”

Jessi smiles, no doubt thinking about her sister. Helen practically raised Jessi even though they’re only two years apart. But Helen learned what it meant to not have her mom around. Jessi did too, but her sister shielded her as much as possible.

It was a shield I didn’t have.

I shake the thought away because it doesn’t matter now. The past can’t be changed.

As I flop back in my chair, I eye my bell warily and huff out, “This is going to take forever.”

Jessi cackles while waving her hand at the monstrosity in front of me. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.”

“But it’ll be really cool when it’s done,” I counter.

“True,” she agrees and tilts her head to the side while looking at my project like she’s considering it, “but I don’t think you’ll be done before winter break.”

I scoff and narrow my eyes at her. “You know I always pull through and get the job done.”

“You should make it a YIG project,” she suggests.

Honestly, it’s not a bad suggestion, but I sigh, “No, they’re all focused on getting last minute donations for the fundraiser. They need to do that more than I need help disco-fying this beauty.”

“Just remember how long it’s taking you because I know you’ll forget and then the next thing I know you’ll be complaining about how long it’s taking you to make a disco,” she pauses and waves her wine glass around a little, “I don’t know, Alamo or something.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline and I have to admit, “That’s kind of a great idea. I could totally make a disco Alamo.”

“Fuck,” she breathes out the word, holding it out and tilting her head back.

“You love it,” I tease her.

She grumbles something, which I take as her agreeing with me, while I focus back on the project at hand. The summer is already going fast, but I’m excited to see how the fundraiser and the fair goes this year. The kids have been working so hard, and the town won’t let them down.