Chapter 22 #2
It’s not the kind of studying that makes me want to squirm in my chair.
It’s the kind that makes my eyeballs burn even more furiously.
God. I can barely even swallow myself. I’m back to feeling raw, but not the way I have for the past five years.
Not like someone took a grater to my skin and didn’t stop even when they reached the bone.
It’s more raw, in that way that being hugged feels like.
Warm and safe. A feeling you’re only disappointed with because it’s too brief.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise.
Justice finally stops eating long enough to raise his brows. “Holy shit, you really are gonna be his old lady.”
“Justice,” Rita warns.
“What? Getting on the back of a bike means shit. It means that dude owns you.”
Preacher groans and Rita makes a motherly noise of disapproval. “It’s a gesture of mutual care and respect,” she explains patiently. “No one owns another person. It’s a reciprocal relationship. Give and take. Just like how we’ve always urged you to treat other people, but especially Nora.”
Justice does look a little bit chastened.
“Sorry, Fawnie. But like, Shadow totally owns you now,” he repeats adamantly, grinning that smile that probably melts a good deal of hearts because it’s a nice smile, but it’s so tinged with trouble.
“You own him too. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.
Preacher making my mom his old lady was the best thing that ever happened to all of us.
We’re a family now.” Justice’s hands shoots out to Rita. “Mom! Why are you crying?”
Rita quickly swipes her cheeks, then takes Justice’s hand and gives it the most adorable squeeze. “I’m happy, honey, that’s all. That was a very sweet thing to say.”
“You’re a part of us, Shadow.” Justice drops that with a massive grin. “Welcome to the family, dude. Maybe we should all get matching tattoos.”
“Can I get one too?” Stone asks hopefully.
“You’re twelve, Stone,” Rita points out, but she doesn’t seem too worried.
“Crow would do it.”
Preacher shakes his head, but he’s clearly struggling not to smile too. “That’s not the point. And no, he wouldn’t.”
“He would if you asked him to.”
“Not if he didn’t want to get his license suspended for tattooing a minor.”
Rita raises her eyebrows but just shakes her head.
Raising two boys, I’m sure that a tattoo is the least of her worries.
I seem to remember more than a few nights of straight epic wildness.
And I know for a fact that Justice has been suspended from school more than once, and Stone is in detention more than he’s ever out of it.
Justice also lost his job for basically assaulting an asshole who deserved it, and Preacher had to go settle things.
It’s hilarious to think that my mom thought I was a bad kid for doing absolutely nothing at all.
Maybe it’s not hilarious.
Maybe I’m still burning up with rage about that. Bleeding out too. That’s what Lockwood is for. I need to learn how to deal with the trauma that started long before the fire. I’m going to. For Fawnie, for the club and my club brothers, but most of all, for me.
“Crow can draw it for me.” Stone isn’t going to let the idea go. “I can’t wait to see what he does with that.”
Justice frowns. “Wait. I’m sixteen. Can I get a tattoo now?”
“Wait and go with your brother when he’s old enough, Crow won’t tattoo anyone under eighteen,” Rita advises, sounding hopeful, but also resigned.
“Mom! I’ll be freaking eighty before he’s eighteen.”
“Good math, Justice,” Stone says dryly, then he rushes on to his next thought.
It would be pretty fun to be twelve again, living in a house like this.
“If you’re part of the family, can I tell you that I’ve always thought you give awesome vampire vibes?
You have to come to the Halloween parties with me next year. You’d scare the heck out of everyone.”
“Stone, I swear…” Rita goes bright red. “I’m so sorry, Shadow.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Stone starts looking contrite. “I just meant you’re a big scary mother—”
“Stone!”
“It’s okay,” I say. And it is. It’s really okay.
This joking and banter, friendly teasing.
This is what life is about. This is what’s been missing.
Fawnie squeezes my hand. She’s the first to smile at me.
It’s beautiful and encouraging. A smile I want to look at for the rest of my life.
“I’d love to get out of my head. I never laughed enough. This is nice.”
“It’s horrifying,” Rita protests.
“I’m enjoying myself.”
“Are you going to get a tattoo?” Justice asks.
“I plan on it. I’d love to see an artist who could cover up some of the scars.”
Stone isn’t going to be outdone by his brother in the brutally hilarious honesty department. “Don’t hide them all. They’re cool. Makes you look like a superhero.”
“Thanks, Stone.”
Preacher nearly dies. Rita looks like she wants to crawl under the table.
“My friends don’t know who you are, but when they meet you, they’ll think you’re super badass,” Stone goes on, oblivious to his parents’ distress.
“I think you’re badass. You saved Fawnie’s life.
And her cat too. You could have died. I would never have been brave enough to do that.
Everyone should know that you’re the best.”
“Maybe not everyone. Maybe just a few people to start,” Fawnie cautions, but her lips twitch.
I want to kiss that little movement. I want to devour her whole mouth.
I want to cry, I want to laugh, I want to sit down at the piano and play quietly for hours, then go for a noisy, roaring ride on my bike.
I’ve been so careful about feeling nothing.
I just wish I knew how exhausting and how hard that would be.
And how it wasn’t fucking worth it at all.
“Right. But I have the coolest big stepbrother-in-law-club-uncle ever.”
“Oh,” Fawnie gasps.
Preacher grunts. Rita slides down in her chair another inch.
“You could call me Finn again if you want,” I offer, proud of myself for not choking on my own saliva. “That’s a little much. And Shadow is… more for club stuff.”
“Shadow is cool.” Stone gives me two thumbs up. “Finn is cool too, but I knew you were hurting back then. It’s like you got a second chance. New name, new life.”
I’m not going to cry. Not now. Not now. Not now.
Fawnie brushes at her eyes, and fuck. I have to spread my hand over the bridge my nose and spear my fingers into mine as well.
“Thanks, bud,” I choke.
“Food’s getting cold,” Rita urges.
That’s all the encouragement the boys need to dig back in.
To them, Fawnie and I are a done deal. Maybe they assumed we always were something special ever since they found out that it was me who saved her and the fire was why I eventually came here.
It’s sweet, given that their early childhood wasn’t great.
They’ve known a fair amount of trauma in their lives, thanks to their biological father.
That they can so easily accept me and be happy for me, happy and loving, blows my mind.
They’re not little kids anymore, like they were when I first met them.
They’ve grown into wonderful people. They’re going to be good men.
Rita and Preacher will make sure of it.
They could voice their concerns. I know Preacher could take Fawnie aside and tell her that he doesn’t like this, or give her a list of fatherly worries, but his gentle smile when he looks at her tells me that he won’t do that. He’ll trust her.
He’s going to put his faith in me.
I know it’s cliché to say that I’ll do anything not to let him down, but I mean it.
I’ve been busy these past couple of weeks.
I’ve made the most of my time instead of trying to figure out how to waste it.
I’ve been present instead of hiding. I met Lockwood for the first time a week and a half ago and booked regular sessions with him for every Friday afternoon at the clubhouse.
I sat down with Tyrant and Raiden and told them both that I wanted to do more for the club than what I’d been doing.
I’ve been to the clubhouse every single day this week, even if it was for just a few minutes.
The first time, Atlas and Willa were there, telling some of the guys about the massive vintage clothing haul they went and picked for her store.
Bags, boxes, trunks—their whole trailer and storage room were overflowing.
I knew it was something Fawnie would be so excited over. I felt weird asking if she could come and take a look at things, and Willa was so excited.
We went over to the antique store together. Watching Willa and Fawnie enthusiastically pick through bags together, open boxes, make discoveries, cry out in joy, or burst into laughter… that might have been the best day of my life.
Every single new one somehow exceeds the last, even though I would have said on that day, that nothing could top it.
Fawnie’s velvet blouse came from that vintage haul.
She walked out of Willa’s with five full garbage bags, and Willa refused to charge her more than a hundred dollars.
She didn’t want Fawnie to pay her anything, but Fawnie insisted, and Willa caved.
She named a price and wouldn’t let Fawnie talk her into taking more.
So yes, even with all the changes I’ve made, I was nervous about tonight, but I didn’t anticipate it being horrible.
Preacher and Rita aren’t the kind of people to try and control someone else.
I thought there might be a little bit more cautious dissent and a few coded warnings, but everyone resumes eating.
It’s not a tense atmosphere. Preacher and Rita loved me for who I was, as soon as I came here.
They always have. They’re accepting me now, as Fawnie’s, all over again.
After the meal, dessert, and a few rounds of video games with the boys until it’s late, Fawnie hugs Rita goodbye. She gives her dad an extra-long hug.
“I love you guys,” she whispers, choking up. “Thank you for having us over for dinner. And for… everything else too.”
Rita gets teary, and Preacher grabs her hand.
He offers me a handshake, which turns into one of those manly grasping of the upper arm things.
He nods at me. His eyes are shiny too, and in those soft brown depths, I read everything.
He was separated from Fawnie for years. This time is precious to him.
He adores her. Loves her. He’d do anything to protect her and ensure her happiness.
I return that look with one of my own. I hope it promises that I want nothing more. I’d do anything for this woman. Go wherever she asked. Work on myself so that I can be the kind of partner she needs, and the kind of man that I can be proud of.
He jerks his chin subtly, and that means more to me than a thousand words. It’s his way of telling me that he hopes we can grow together and he’ll be right here to help us with whatever we need.
Even Justice and Stone leave their games to race up and wave us off.
I’m glowing. I fucking know that I am. Instead of being embarrassed about it, or letting my brain beat me up with all the ways I don’t deserve it, or the many other ways that it might come crashing down on me, I let it sink in and warm me even more than having Fawnie’s hand tucked in mine already does.
It’s not easy to earn the respect of two teenage boys. I’m not taking that gift for granted.
I’m not going to take any of it for granted, ever.