Chapter Fifteen
Marchella
I’d fantasized about him calling me his in so many different ways over the past few days. He was perfect. The son of Anthony Aviston. The nephew of Easy Aviston. He’d been drawn to me before he knew who I was. He didn’t give a fuck about my father or brother or the club, so he couldn’t be coming at me to get to them. He was gorgeous, tall, and so, so, talented with that tongue.
It was a goddamn dream come true– Until he opened his mouth, and I realized with a chilling certainty that he was not one of us. I knew he wasn’t a disciple, but he was an outsider. A clueless outsider with federal agents for parents.
What the fuck was I thinking?
“I– “ Was all I could manage, so I just lifted to my toes and kissed him, hoping it was enough to keep the tears at bay.
He kissed me back and tenderly stroked my hair, holding my naked body to his. After a while, I forgot the shock of it all, but when it ended, and I opened my eyes reality came back.
“I need to get–”
“Where?” He laughed.
“You’re not going to Makaveli’s house.”
“No.” I agreed, that was definitely out of the question.
My father would be drunk and ready for confrontation. He was bested in front of me and that never went over well for anyone.
“My grandparents live on a farm not far from here.” I caught up with my senses and finished straightening out my pants. I shoved my other leg in and jerked everything up, fastening as quickly as I could.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, which didn’t seem to be a problem since I couldn’t find my shirt and was really having to search. I looked everywhere but at him twice, before I finally huffed.
“I guess I lost my—” I started, only to stop when I turned back and realized he was holding it. “Did you plan on keeping a souvenir?”
“No, just wondering what was going on inside–” He stepped toward me and raised a finger to motion toward my head.
I averted my eyes and snagged my shirt from him.
“Marchella, if I said something that offended you...”
“You didn’t.” I looked at him, so he believed me.
His eyes tightened, like he was processing what he’d heard.
“Come on, the cop is probably gone,” I encouraged, before turning toward the bike.
He grabbed my wrist and jerked me toward him so fast I had to place my palm to his chest so as not to roughly collide with him.
“Hey,” he hissed, “Don’t do this— Whatever this is, alright. If you’re angry about your dad–”
“I’m not,” I blurted.
“If you’re angry about your father,” he spoke over me, “I don’t blame you. My mom says Easy is a fucking coke addict. She carried on about him snorting blow and raging out, but he is my uncle. He’s the closest relative I have to my father. I give a fuck about him. I love him despite whatever shortcomings he may have, and I shouldn’t have said that about Makaveli. Not to you. Two things can be true at once, but– He’s still your father.”
I laughed, unable to help myself. Hot tears started to spill again.
“Marchella, please,” he whispered, sliding his hand over my cheek to chase away a tear. “Let me be your anchor.”
I closed my eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears from spilling or my breath from catching. I’d heard Trista say that Easy’s nephew was special in spirit. Sensitive or whatever the fuck she claimed when she told those type of stories, but I never believed it.
“Shit, I misspoke again or something…” he whispered almost under his breath.
“My mother was my anchor,” I spoke up, before reaching down to raise my pant leg, on the side he hadn’t freed.
It was the first tattoo I’d ever gotten. An anchor with an infinity symbol. “It represents my mother, forever watching over me.”
He reached down and ran his fingertips over the tattoo.
“Let her rest and I’ll do it.”
I smiled and watched as he took my hand in his. I stroked it with my fingers and gave it a squeeze.
“There are a lot of—” I gave a slow nod. “It’s late, and it’s a long story.”
“There is nothing that says you have to tell it tonight, I ain’t fucking going anywhere, Marchella.”
I hugged him and slowly let him lead me to the bike. The ride to Grandpa Winehopper’s farm was a short one, but it was enough time for me to clear my mind.
This was what Aunt Trista was talking about.
This was my chance to have my own life. A life that wasn’t dependent upon disciple history and secrets. Yes, we had the same disciple history to an extent, but he knew how to expand beyond all of that. He went to college, and to another state, and he had a sense of normalcy about him that he was willing to share with me.
And I so desperately wanted normal and happiness.
I pointed to the property on the right and he nodded. Blaze slowed to negotiate the turn and rolled to a stop in the center of my grandparent’s large driveway. All the lights were off inside, and he’d killed the engine and coasted it once he noticed, so I doubted anyone would stir.
I ran my hands over his back, patting his shoulder blades before I leaned in and tried to find my voice. I was terrible with apologies. Not because I didn’t feel guilty, they just weren’t well received in my family.
“I’m sorry about–”
“It’s fine. We’re good.” He rubbed my thigh and gave it a squeeze, looking over his shoulder at me with that smile I loved.
“No, I– Sometimes I hold so much in, and when it comes out, it just– All the emotion just rushes out and flows down my cheeks sometimes,” I stammered, only to abruptly shut up when the front door was yanked open.
The porch light flipped on, and even though it was the opposite thigh Blaze was clutching, I still swatted his hand away.
“My granddad is a preacher,” I hissed.
I meant it as a warning, but Blaze instantly stirred, sitting up straight and proper. He held out his hand and my grandpa stood on the top step with his neck craned like some kind of goose, watching while I took Blaze’s offering and slid off the motorcycle.
He hurried down the steps, raising his hand in a halting gesture, even as he called out a question that he already knew the answer to, “Marchella? Marchella, honey, is that you?”
Blaze jerked the wheel the opposite way and turned on the headlight, illuminating the area a bit.
“It’s me, grandpa,” I called out to him, waving back with a warm smile.
“Evening, Sir.” Blaze’s respectful tone made my smile drop and I glanced back at him in disbelief.
Did he just say ‘sir?’ I suddenly questioned my own hearing and was certain the county judge would have bleated at such a performance.
“Who do we have here?” Grandpa asked, pleased by the address, and conveying his approval with a slow nod in my direction.
“This– Uh–,” I stammered, suddenly regretting his name. Both Blaze, because my grandfather would assume his mother was a stoner, and Aviston because he knew damn good and well who Easy was.
Blaze dismounted with ease and extended his hand to my grandfather, “Blaze Aviston, I’m Crystal O’Brian’s son.”
Grandpa’s eyes narrowed only to widen abruptly, “You mean Agent Crystal O’Brian?”
Blaze made a strange sound and nodded, “Yeah. Yes, sir. She and my stepfather are both federal agents.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded, “What about you? Are you in law enforcement as well?”
“No. No, sir. I only just received my bachelor degrees back in Georgia. I need a master’s to really sink my teeth into things, I guess you could say.”
“I think you mean bachelor’s degree.” I clipped, as if my grammar were somehow superior to his.
“No. Bachelor degrees . I have more than one.” He winked. “Psych and History, dual major.”
Grandpa whistled and wagged his finger at Blaze.
“You tell your mother and Oakland they’re welcome for dinner anytime,” Grandpa announced. “I’m going to head inside. I’m glad it was you out here, there was some yahoo that ran reckless through the carnival according to the scanner earlier. I figured it was one of your brothers that did it and was looking for a place to hide when I heard the motorcycle.”
“Through the carnival?” The disbelief Blaze injected into his voice made my composure fail me and I laughed.
Grandpa looked back at me like I was a madwoman.
“Sorry. It’s just– Blaze is from Georgia. He doesn’t know the antics the bikers get up to around here.” I covered.
Grandpa huffed louder than a bull, “Be thankful you don’t have to deal with it. They’re all trouble. Always up to no good.”
He carried on all the way to the house. The minute he was inside, I collapsed against Blaze and muffled my fit of laughter with his shirt, while he smothered his in a kiss against my neck. I found a gas can in the barn, and he filled it up before heading back to town.