Chapter 11 Shade
SHADE
It’s hard to know where to look as I struggle to rein in my feelings about what is happening right now.
It’s everything and nothing.
They’re smiling as Isla helps Kai manhandle a piece of furniture out of the house that he could easily manage on his own.
As I toss a lamp stand into the truck, I watch the two of them out of the corner of my eye. Both got great smiles. Kai’s only a couple of years older than Isla, so they fit.
Together.
I’ve often thought that Kai and I have gotten away with being in a relationship together for as long as we have because when people look at the two of us, they don’t see the possibilities.
I’m older, gnarled. I know I’m not the happiest fella.
But Kai. He’s fucking goodness. Falls in love easy.
And he’s easy to fall in love with.
For all Isla has told us that bikers aren’t something she can be around, Kai is seemingly winning her over.
It’s impossible to not fall for his flirting.
God knows I tried. The night we met, he leaned too close on purpose, the breath of his low voice brushed over my ear as he spoke.
He’d smile slow and run his hands through all that dark hair of his until I was desperate to run my own fingers through it.
Twice, I thought about leaving, twice, he slid his fingers through the belt loops on my jeans to tug me closer.
I didn’t stand a chance. Never have.
And watching him now, it’s easy to see him winning Isla over in the same way.
“How many siblings do you have?” I hear Isla ask.
“Five,” Kai replies. “My mom wanted an even number. Two was too few. Four meant we needed a minivan anyway. So, we ended up with six of us.”
“And what’s your position?” Isla asks.
“Fifth. Youngest brother of the four boys.”
I remember the first time I met them all at a party for his mom’s birthday one August. The volume was like being at a rock concert. Loud music, and siblings who took after their mom, pumping out kids like they were an automotive assembly line. Last count, Kai has nineteen nieces and nephews.
Our annual Christmas and birthday present bill is as big as our annual mortgage payments. Okay, not quite. But we spend close to ten grand with all the parents, siblings, and niblets to buy for.
Not that I care, because it makes Kai happy to do it.
“Is that going in the truck?” I ask.
Isla shakes her head. “No. Someone is going to collect it later. I’m just leaving it down the side of the house for them.”
I nod. “I should take this and do another run. Why don’t the two of you carry on and—”
Kai snatches the keys out of my hand. “I’ll take it. You help Isla go through the house and tear out anything else we can take in the next load.”
“You should stay,” I say, hoping he can tell by my eyes I want him to.
Instead, he gives me a grin that says he knows what I’m doing, throwing the two of them together. “But I want to drive. I’ll see you in about forty minutes.”
Kai hops in the truck and has the fucking audacity to wave when he pulls off the drive.
“Do you have any siblings, Garrett?” Isla asks.
I shake my head. “No. Just me. Only child. You?”
Isla sighs. “Only child too. Was yours at least a happy childhood?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“Garrett,” she says, and the care in her tone is almost my undoing. “That might be the only thing we have in common.”
“Yours wasn’t?”
She shakes her head. “Not even a little bit.” She says the words exactly the same way I said them.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“Let’s just say I grew up around addiction and alcohol and leave it there.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Anyway, I heard on a podcast that every day is a new day to choose happiness.”
I need more than a second to process what she just said, but instead of coming up with something comforting or soothing, I simply say, “Yeah.”
The silence hangs awkwardly, for a second. I wish I had Kai’s flair for conversation. “So, should we move some junk out to give you some space?”
“Yes,” Isla says.
I roll my eyes at how shit I am at small talk.
“Oh my God. My phone,” she says suddenly, and I notice it’s sitting on the corner of the porch, propped up by half of a broken planter. “Shit. Hang on.”
“You don’t want to be leaving it outside where anyone could steal it,” I say.
Isla turns and shows me her phone, the red recording dot glaring at me.
“You were filming?”
She freezes for just a second. Guess I wasn’t polite in the way I said that. “I…yeah.”
I nod and feel weirdly honored that she didn’t try to hide it from me. I like honesty and trust above all things. “For what?”
“You’re going to think I’m silly.”
I shake my head. “I doubt it.”
She steps toward a box that’s way too heavy for her to lift and tries to get it off the ground.
I nudge her out of the way and pick up the box. “I’ve got it. Tell me what you’re filming for. You want some kind of diary about the renovation?”
She slips her phone in the rear pocket of her jeans. Jeans I’ve noticed hug her ass.
I’ve always had a passing interest in women’s bodies but never acted on it. As I got older, the more embarrassed I became that I’d have to tell a woman they were my first. Not sure I could handle the look on their face if I disappointed them in bed. It never really mattered because I met Kai.
But for some reason, it’s impossible to keep my eyes off Isla’s ass. Or the way her sweater raises an inch above her waistband when she steps up onto her toes to drop something into the truck. I find myself wondering what it would feel like to run my tongue along the dip of her waist.
“It’s for my channel,” she admits finally. “And my social media platforms.”
“Your…channel?”
She puts her palm to her forehead. “You know, places online where you share videos and pictures. Surely you’re not that much of a dinosaur, old man.”
“Yeah. I’m not that old. But I don’t understand why you would want to have one. Isn’t it all”—I throw air quotes—“influencers and shit? People who get paid for doing nothing but sharing themselves going about their lives.”
She huffs. “It’s a bit more than that. It’s renovation stuff, because people love a good home makeover. But it’s also turned into a bit of an exploration of…well…grief.”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
That’s way deeper and more personal than I was expecting, and now it sounds like I was making fun of it.
A loose strand of hair blows in front of her face, but before I can reach for it to tame it for her, she snaps it behind her ear.
How the fuck do I respond to this like a normal person? “This is for…people?” I manage. “Like, people watch it?”
She lifts her phone and shows me a clip.
Isla’s hands trying to lift the room’s carpet.
Her voice talking about the memories she has of Christmas mornings on this carpet.
But how, in reality, you have to let go of things that have served a purpose if they don’t make you feel good anymore.
And how doing that opens up space for new good things.
I feel like someone just put their foot on my solar plexus.
“This helps you?” I ask, quieter than I intended.
Isla nods. “It gives me purpose. And if I know I have to post something, I’m going to make time in my day to do something worth posting. Which pushes me forward in getting this place fixed up.”
I swallow. Twice.
Kai and I are in this together. Our home will get fixed up over time, as it’s much more livable than this place. I want to say something supportive to this woman who’s taking on such a big job on her own.
C’mon, Garrett. It’s not that fucking hard.
“Well, you’re good at it.”
Real smooth. Fucking poetic, even.
The regret is immediate.
Isla chuckles, almost like she can tell I’m trying. “You think so?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “You got a clean shot. Not blurry. Good light.”
And why do I suddenly sound like I know my shit when it comes to videography?
But her smile seems to widen, and I wonder just how far I’d embarrass myself to keep it going.
“Well, I have followers, see?” She points to the follower count. “I’m up to five hundred and seven in a week.”
“That’s it?” I ask with a blink.
Her mouth drops open. “What?”
“No. Shit. That came out wrong.” I scrub a hand down my face to try to erase that feeble attempt at support. “I meant, it should be way higher given how thoughtful it is.”
Her lips twitch. “Nice save.”
She’s teasing me.
And it’s all I can do to remind myself that it’s just Isla, and we’ve talked plenty at the clubhouse. Maybe not for long periods of time. And maybe that’s the oddness of all this, actually spending time together.
Yet, for a second, I forget how to speak.
“Should we load all this into my car?” Isla asks. She gestures to the mess.
“Sunbeam, I hate to break it to you, but your car should be going into that dump too.”
Isla pats the trunk like it’s a beloved pet. “Don’t insult her.”
I shake my head. “She’s held together with duct tape and wishful thinking.”
Isla snorts. Like, actually snorts with laughter. And it might be my new favorite sound.
“C’mon,” I say, nudging her lower back with my palm. “Let’s go get some more junk. If Kai’s gonna make another run before we have to get to the clubhouse, we should be ready for him, and it should be worth it.”
“You know, you guys don’t have to do two runs this morning. You’ve already saved me three trips with that first run. It can be enough. You don’t—”
“I know.”
Her hands flutter helplessly. “I can do it myself.”
“It’s not in my nature to watch someone struggle when I’ve got two working arms and two working legs, and a truck built for hauling shit. But if this is because it’s important to you…for your videos, and for you to feel like you did it all yourself, just tell us.”
She appears offended for half a second and then deflates. “I appreciate the help. I just don’t want to be a burden.”
That hits harder than anything else she’s said today.
For a moment, I think about Grizz and Birdie and how they don’t want to be burden’s either. I had a quiet word with Raven at the diner, to see if she could figure out some kind of meal rotation drop off amongst the old ladies to make things a little easier for them.
“You couldn’t burden me if you tried,” I say, too honestly.
Kai would be laughing his ass off if he heard the way my voice just cracked on that last word. Sounded like a nervous teenager all over again.
She nods softly. “Okay. I appreciate it.”
We spend the next ten minutes carrying anything Isla wants gone onto the drive.
Knowing there’s a time constraint of Kai’s return, she makes decisions quickly enough.
There are some things I urge her to consider tossing, but the memory of them is too strong.
The drawers of a dresser with damaged panels are where her grandfather used to hide individually wrapped mints for her.
The dusty shoe box holds photographs of her grandparents’ wedding.
An armchair with a giant rip in the cushion used to be Isla’s favorite spot to sit and watch the birds at the now-defunct bird feeder.
“You know,” I say finally, as we watch Kai turn onto the road, “you should keep filming. People need real and honest videos like you’re making.”
Isla’s eyes widen. Enough that I should abort this line of conversation.
“Just don’t film the two of us. As Outlaws, we’re not allowed a social media footprint.”
“I’ll make a note to cut and delete the footage with you on it, so I don’t forget.”
“Good girl,” I say without thinking.
Her cheeks go pink, but her eyes stay focused on the truck. Maybe she’s relieved that Kai is nearly here and she can then interact with a normal person.
Kai reverses onto the driveway like a pro, and I busy myself tossing shit into the truck bed. Because here’s the truth I can’t admit out loud:
For the first time since I met Kai, I want someone more than just my partner. I don’t want to lose Kai. But I want to kiss Isla.
And the worst part isn’t even that I’m feeling this way.
It’s that Kai has always had the capacity for feeling like this, and for me, he’s pretending he doesn’t.
I can’t imagine how much that must hurt.