CHAPTER 4
KADE “DRILLER”
Fucking hell. The last three months have been a living hell in ways it never had been before when I’ve been stuck out on the rig. I know why, too.
Emery.
The only thing I’ve had to keep me warm at night, to keep me from diving off that damn platform and taking my chances on getting back to shore, have been my memories of the night we spent together. They weren’t nearly enough.
I wish shit had gone down differently; I really do. Because the regret is the other edge of the sword that cuts me right along with the memories of passion and connection that I have with my woman.
It’s the memories of what happened in the early morning, before light had really started to filter through the windows of my woman’s far too small and run-down apartment have been haunting me just as much as the feeling of being buried deep inside of my woman. I wish I could do it all over again. I wish I had been thinking at all.
When my phone started ringing, I was going to ignore it. Fuck, I did ignore it the first time the ringing began. But then it started right back up again. Dread started to weigh heavily in my gut, and I knew I needed to find out who the fuck was calling me so early.
At first, I had convinced myself that it had to be Mom, which worried me because she wouldn’t have called me that early, especially when we had plans before I went back out onto the rig, unless there was an emergency. The thought that something might have happened to my sisters is what had me finally jackknifing out of the bed.
But it wasn’t Mom.
It was my boss and my gut tightened right along with the rest of the muscles in my body. With a single glance at the caller ID, I felt strung way too fucking tight.
Finding out that there had been an accident on the rig and that one of the guys was injured had me moving without even fucking thinking. You get close to the guys you spend so much time with, especially when you have to rely on each other to work hard and be smart about it because shit can go sideways out there with a single step. Then you’re fucked without the resources you’re used to on land.
It might be a lucrative job, but it’s dangerous as fuck. All of us have had to deal with scrapes, sprains, and minor burns from time to time, but to get a call from my boss meant shit went sideways in a way that wasn’t so simple to deal with.
Being called back to the rig early clouded my mind and I didn’t even think about leaving a note or my number for Emery. Oh, I remembered when I had a chance to stop and think, but by then I was already being transported out to the rig. By then it was far too fucking late.
In that moment, as realization set it, the only thing I could do was hang my head. I didn’t even know which tattoo shop she worked at because while we talked about a lot of things, including her art, she hadn’t mentioned which shop. It gutted me to realize that I had no way to reach out to her for the next few months.
Dealing with that regret, living with it like a ghost looking over my shoulder and making cold settle around me, wasn’t easy. Fuck. I spent time wondering why time machines hadn’t been invented yet because I would have gladly paid any amount of money to be able to go back in time and do shit differently.
I would have gotten her number first before ever sinking inside of her tight, wet pussy. I would have left her a note or, better yet, I would have woken her up and explained what the fuck was going on.
My heart aches whenever I think about how she might think it was just a one-night stand and that the connection between us wasn’t real. I can only hope that what we shared that night was enough to see us through my fuck-up. But I’m not sure if hoping is only setting me up for more disappointment or not.
There are only two positives that I can find from how everything went down. Frist, I got a nice little bonus for getting called back out to the rig early. Secondly, I threw myself into drawing whenever I had any downtime.
I’ll admit, I had been losing some of my muse with every stint out on the rig. It was like I could see the shattered pieces of the future I was looking forward to when I was younger, and slivers were being lost every time I went back out there to work. I was sure I’d never be able to collect those fragments again and I had made my peace with it—even it was reluctantly.
But meeting Emery combined with the knowledge of my sisters being on the precipice of adulthood, had a fire igniting in my gut again. I’ll admit, I did more sketches of Emery than anything else. Fuck, I have an entire pad full of them.
My mind would drift, and I’d find myself wondering what she was doing in that moment. Whatever I saw, whatever I imagined, I would draw.
As I get dressed after showering in my room at the clubhouse, determination fills me. I just got back in last night and as much as I wanted to go and try and hunt down Emery, I knew I needed a good night sleep, to get clean, and deal with checking in with Mom first. Then I’ll be free and clear to start hunting down my woman without anything else trying to pull me in another direction.
I have a little time until Emma’s graduation and I’m determined to have Emery by my side there. Well, as long as she doesn’t hate me for leaving without a note or any way to contact her. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure she forgives my bullshit.
It wasn’t malicious on my part, but that doesn’t mean it was okay either.
And fuck if it hasn’t bitten me on the ass because now I’m up the creek without a damn paddle. Then there’s how much I’ve missed her. I wish, desperately, that I was able to talk to her for the last three months. I wouldn’t be behind now and maybe she’d know me well enough to be ready to take the next steps with me.
Well, at least, after I figure out how to tell Mom I won’t be going back out onto the rig and what I’m going to do with my life next. That will be a conversation I’ll be having with Lucifer. I don’t have a single problem with the club taking a good portion of the profit from a tattoo shop if they’re helping me to open it.
I’m not ready to start wrapping my mind around the logistical shit I’ll need to figure out to make that little dream a reality.
But first, I need to deal with Mom.
I’m dreading it.
A Prospect I’ve never seen before and didn’t get the chance to meet last night when I got in is behind the bar, but I don’t head that way. If I stop now, I’ll put off heading over to the house where Mom and the girls live. There’s no use in delaying the inevitable.
The questions in his head are clear when I give him a chin lift before doing the same to Prodigal, the club’s VP who is delivering a plate of food to his old lady, Wrenley. I haven’t had nearly enough time to spend with the woman, honestly, but there’s no doubt the love shared between the couple. I’m damn happy for my brother.
He deserves all the happiness. Back in the day, when I was just a club brat and not even a Prospect yet, Prodigal’s high school sweetheart was killed in a home invasion. Everyone around the clubhouse thought they were going to go the distance and she was going to become his old lady. Fate had other plans.
I never blamed Prodigal for taking off after that. I don’t know what I would have done if I had been in his shoes. He was only a few years older than me, but we weren’t as close as he was with Tack, a club brat just like us, and Hacker, a friend from school who spent more time around the club than he did at home.
Dynamics changed back then after Prodigal left and I got closer to Tack and Hacker, but then they became Prospects and shit changed again. I never resented it though; it was shit that needed to go down.
They tried to have my back when shit went down and Dad died, but there wasn’t much to be done. I already had a summer under my belt working out in the Gulf and the pressure to take care of Mom and the girls was laid on my back.
I wasn’t even in the clubhouse the night Prodigal came back to New Orleans because I was working, but I was damn glad to see him when I was back shoreside. Having him as VP and a brother means something.
Finding out he went and fell in love with that same sweetheart’s younger sister, who used to come through on family days and shit, was shocking as fuck. But I swallowed down any judgement when I saw them together for the first time. There’s love there, real love that’s stronger than whatever Prodigal had when he was still a boy.
I heard all about how Prodigal beat himself up over the way he felt about Wrenley the moment he saw her again after years of no contact while protecting her from a shit example of a motorcycle club. The Riding Rebels aren’t a brotherhood, they’re selfish bastards who don’t care how they make their money and they sure as fuck don’t live by a code like we do in the DSMC.
As I close the distance to the clubhouse door, I can’t help but smile when I hear Wrenley try to admonish her man, “This is way too much food.”
It’s not very effective considering the huge smile on her face. It’s clear Prodigal isn’t fazed in the least when he gently cajoles, “You’re eating for two now, little bird.”
I chuckled and shook my head, unable to fully reconcile the guy I used to know, the one mired in pain, and the man who is doting on his pregnant wife and looking toward the future.
How long will it be before I can knock Emery up?
The thought has me almost falling over and off the back of my bike as I start it up. I can’t get ahead of myself, but I’m not going to lie—having that kind of future with Emery is exactly what I want.
I crave it.
I need it.
I will ensure it becomes a reality.
Well, as long as I’m able to find her and then get her to talk to me.
It doesn’t take very long to get to the house and I almost scoff. Mom refused any help from the club after Dad’s death. She said it was because the club was what killed him. While she might not be entirely wrong about that, considering he was on club business, that’s not what stopped her from allowing the club to help.
It was all her pride and her misplaced hatred.
I’m still a little surprised she didn’t put up more of a fight about me become a patched brother. Not like she could have stopped me. Maybe she just figured if she tried to put her foot down about something she had no fucking say in then she wouldn’t have me paying for fucking everything.
The thought has my stomach turning and resentment burrowing deeper into my bones.
It doesn’t really matter now though.
The ironic thing—the house Mom lives in is owned by the club. They paid off the mortgage and put it in the club’s name to ensure all taxes and shit were taken care of. She never said shit about that or even tried to buy it from Lucifer.
But then she refused any other help from the club and shunned them and every member. Hell, she even turned her back on Cherise—Lucifer’s old lady—and they were friends back before Dad died.
Was she always so fucking bitter? Or was that just because Dad died?
It’s hard to remember now.
I don’t bother knocking when I get to the front door. When I enter the living room, I find Miley watching some reality show that’ll probably rot your brain while Emma is focused on her phone. Their eyes light up when their heads snap up and they see me.
The moment their bodies collide with mine in a flurry of excited squeals and wonderings about how I am and when I got back. Love wraps around us, and I let it sink into my soul. With our age difference, I’ve always felt like a little more than a brother when it comes to my sisters.
It’s hard on them being home with Mom. Her bitterness doesn’t just manifest in the way she’s treated the DSMC. But there hasn’t been a lot I could do about it. At least Lucifer kept his eye on the situation as much as he could.
“Missed you, little squirts,” I mumble and squeeze them just a little bit harder. “Got in last night, but it was late. I just crashed at the clubhouse.”
“Stop fawning over your brother,” Mom’s voice is sharp and barbed like a whip.
The girls, clearly startled, jump back from me and I don’t even try to stop myself from frowning. Mom’s eyes are cutting as she looks me over. I swear I can hear the disgusting commentary running through her mind and I’m sure it all starts with the club since I’m wearing my cut.
She’s just going to have to get over it.
“I see you made it home safely, Kade,” Mom’s voice is curt.
No warmth.
No relief.
No love.
Fucking hell.
“I did,” I keep my voice even, but it’s not easy. I want to yell at her. Hell, part of me wants to beg for some scrapes of affection. But I won’t. Not to her. There’s no reason to set yourself up for disappointment. I look at Emma and smile. “I’m home for three months this time to help celebrate your graduation and the last summer before you start on a whole new chapter in your life.”
Emma’s eyes fill with unshed tears while Miley does some sort of happy and victory dance wrapped up in one. While Emma’s reaction has my heart cracking, my youngest sister has me letting out a low chuckle.
“Three months?” Mom’s voice doesn’t even border on shrill—it’s so far over the line that a ringing follows the sound. “How the hell do you think we can survive if you’re taking three months off. How selfish can you be?”
Emma gasps, her tone full of censorship, “Mom.”
I reach out and give my sister’s arm a gentle squeeze. There’s no reason for her to get in the middle of this shit. Not now, not ever.
“Don’t worry. I got a nice bonus since I had to go back out a little early. I’ve also saved up plenty of PTO days over the years. You won’t even notice a difference other than my presence,” there’s an acidic edge in my voice.
Miley reaches over and grabs my pinkie, giving it a squeeze. It’s something we started when she was just small. It’s a reminder that we’re right here for each other and that we’ll never be alone.
Fuck.
My 17-year-old sister should not feel the need to reassure me. Yet here she is.
Before she can drop her hand to her side fully, I grip her pinkie and give her the same reassurance she just gave me.
“Well,” Mom huffs, “I guess that’s fine then.”
I arch an eyebrow in challenge. Of course it’s fucking fine. I’m a grown ass man and soon the girls won’t even be under her roof. Emma got a full fucking ride to Tulane since she didn’t want to be far from Miley. Thankfully, she’s going to be staying on campus.
Even if she hadn’t gotten a scholarship, Lucifer informed me a few years ago that the club was going to cover both of my sister’s education. I never mentioned it to Mom and figured I would just go behind her back if it was needed.
“Come on in, then,” Mom tries to sound sweet even though it doesn’t ring true. “I just made some sandwiches for lunch.” She eyes me, the judgement there feeling like a spotlight on all my flaws. “I’m sure you didn’t come by first thing because you were up far too late at that place,” she sneers before trying to pull it back, “and I’m sure you missed breakfast.”
I narrow my eyes as I push down the words I want to spit at the woman in front of me. Every time I see her it becomes more difficult to look at her like my mom. She wasn’t always like this. Is this what death does to someone? Dad and Mom were in love, and it ran deep, but the way she’s changed since he passed is something he would hate.
Does she ever think about that?
Does she even care?
I give a curt nod before throwing my arm around Emma’s shoulder as Mom turns and practically stomps back into the kitchen. I kiss the side of my sister’s head and whisper, “I’m damn proud of you Emma. Dad would be too.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. The way she wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes is enough.
After lunch I need to figure out how to track down Emery. Then I’ll work on how I’m going to break it to Mom that I’m not going back out to the rig. She’s not going to be happy, but I can’t do it anymore.
I’ve missed too much time by being out there. I can’t keep living my life with only glimpses of the way the world has moved forward when I’m on shore leave.