Chapter Twenty-Three
Ayda
Iwas leaning over the sink, studying the bruise on my cheek when I heard the door slam closed from Tate’s room as he slugged down the hall towards the kitchen.
I’d been hiding from him since the bruise had started blossoming under my skin.
I’d already spent an hour that morning trying to cover it up.
If there was anything that really, truly bothered me, it was the thought of being treated as though I was weak, and that’s exactly what a bruise would convey.
Weakness. The fact that Maisey fucking Sutton didn’t have a blemish on her pissed me off even more.
I’d done everything I could to cover the ugly bruise. I headed in the same path Tate had taken, watching him bang around the kitchen angrily while I leaned against the arch between rooms.
“Okay, are you going to stay mad at me forever, T?”
“I’m not mad at you anymore. I’m mad at myself and Sloane’s stupid stepmother.”
My heart dropped for a second and I let my hair fall forward, covering any trace of the bruise on my cheek. “Why? What’s her stepmom done now?”
“She convinced the chief that Sloane shouldn’t be allowed to see me. She said I was a bad influence and lied about coming home to find me in Sloane’s bed.”
“Tate!”
“I said it was a lie and it was. I would never do that. The only place we’ve hung out since she was banned from here was the Chandler’s hayloft.”
“Seriously?” I asked, raising my brows at him.
“I said I didn’t—”
“No, I believe you about that,” I said, waving my arm about. “I’m just surprised about the barn. You can’t wait a couple of days?”
“Shut up. You try being a teenage boy with a stiffy every time you sneeze, then ask me if I’m serious.”
I made a face at him and pushed off the wall to steal some of the cereal he was pouring out. He swatted me away, but I just grinned and shoved them in my mouth, asking him what he was going to do now.
“What can I do?”
“He can’t arrest you for dating his daughter, Tate, and I’m just one person working three jobs, I can’t keep an eye on you twenty-four seven. It takes two to tango.”
“Were you abducted by pod people in the last twenty-four hours?”
“No. I just don’t like that pumped-up piece of plastic telling you what you can and can’t do because she’s a jealous idiot who has no idea what the fuck she’s talking about.”
He obviously had no response to that, because he just stared open-mouthed, much like I had the day before when the bitch had clocked me one.
I’d never been a rule breaker. I wasn’t prim and proper by any stretch of the imagination, and I was bringing Tate up with the same attitude my parents had with the two of us.
We were given a certain amount of freedom no one else had, on the basis that we were honest with them and never lied.
For them, it meant they knew where we were and what we were doing.
It gave us the confidence to talk to them about things most people would never talk to their parents about, and there was always open dialogue.
I couldn’t lie, it got pretty weird talking to Tate about his sex life at times, but I could live with that.
As long as he didn’t lie to me, we were going to be okay.
I was giving him a chance to be honest, even if I wasn’t necessarily going to like it, and more to the point, even if it meant everything I did was under a microscope.
It wasn’t like being a good girl had ever really done me any favors in life—just an overhang of debt, a five-figure mortgage and a teenage boy dependent on me.
He didn’t say much as I drove him to school in the car that Drew had repaired and delivered back to me, as promised, but the smile Tate flashed me when he greeted Sloane with a kiss in front of me was priceless.
I would take the fist again if I got to see that.
No one was going to tell him who he could and couldn’t see.
By the time I pulled up at The Hut, all the bravado I’d been feeling was long gone.
Once again I stood outside the doors, staring at the skull as though it held all the answers, but it did nothing but confuse me further.
I had an idea what it meant to every man inside this building.
It was a way of life, a brotherhood, and it represented safety and a family of their own making.
Most of these men lived by the morals and scruples they had set for one another, and when you took the time to really sit back and look at it, it was a beautiful thing.
You just had to look past some of the things—the things that were unavoidable when you were in the thick of it and invisible to them.
I’d barely made it through the gate when the door was pushed open and Kenny stuck his head out. The moment he saw me, the rest of him followed, his smile bright as he revealed two mugs in his hand and offered me one that advertised a motorcycle parts company.
“Two sugars and a brief introduction to milk, that right?”
“You remembered. Thanks, Kenny.”
He nodded to a bench that was bathed in sunlight, and though I knew I should probably get in there and start working, the kiss of the sun was too appealing to turn down the offer. The moment I sat on the table, I pulled my legs up close and curled my hands around the mug.
“Gotta tell you, Hanagan, you sure know how to cause trouble.”
Closing my eyes and lifting my face to the sun, I smiled. I was anything but trouble until I met this group of misfits. I wasn’t going to tell him that, though.
“Since when was I inducted into the last name basis club?”
“Third time here, you’ve earned it. Don’t mean you get to keep it, though.”
I rolled my eyes and sipped the coffee, almost gagging at the taste of it.
It was definitely an acquired taste, and I wasn’t quite there yet.
If allowed, I was going to try and set up the timer on their coffee pot so I could have a decent cup when I got here in a morning, because the slop they were serving… there was only one word for it: Nasty.
“So, what have you boys cooked up for me today?”
“You’re asking the wrong guy. I don’t call the shots, I just make sure they’re executed.”
“You’re telling me everyone’s still asleep?”
“Pretty much.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised. How about we wake them up with some good old fashioned biscuits and sausage gravy?”
“You can do that?”
“If I go to the store, sure.”
“You kidding? It gets fucking expensive cooking for this many men. Write a list and I’ll go. That way you can see if there’s anything you need in the kitchen. It hasn’t been used in a while.”
“Isn’t that beneath you?” I asked, taking a sip of coffee and regretting it immediately.
“We all pull our weight around here, including me. You’re doing something nice, feeding a bunch of assholes who can’t make toast between them. Full bellies make for good attitudes. You’ll see.”
Hopping from the bench and disappearing inside, Kenny came back out with his confident swagger, the chains on his belt announcing his arrival before his boots clomped on the wood of the bench and he produced a pad and pen.
“You sure about this?”
“It’s food, Hanagan. Not a gold-plated jock strap.”
He was gone the moment the list was finished, while I stayed where I was on the bench with a fresh cup of coffee.
I actually didn’t mind the peace of sitting outside.
The birds had started singing hours ago, but their enthusiasm grew the higher the sun crawled into the sky.
It was peaceful other than that. There was no stirring from inside The Hut, and I doubted there would be until I started cooking.
There was one thing guaranteed to get Tate out of bed on the weekends and that was the smell of bacon. I just hoped these boys woke up in a better mood. The thought of that many men in a piss poor frame of mind wasn’t appealing at all.