Chapter Nine #2
She looked down at her plate. “I thought about it.”
Ma stayed quiet.
Hazel shrugged. “There wasn’t much keeping me in Ohio.”
“Family?”
“Not anymore.”
I didn’t ask. Something in the way she said it told me not to. “Boyfriend?”
Her eyes came back to mine. “No.”
Good. The thought came immediately. I ignored it. “Job?”
“Waitressing.”
“So you just packed everything and left?”
“Pretty much.”
“Just like that?”
Hazel laughed softly. “It wasn’t quite that dramatic. I gave notice.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
She picked up her wine. “I don’t know. When the lawyer called and told me Diane, who I had never met, had left me the house, it seemed stupid not to at least try.”
“Who is Diane?”
Hazel frowned. “Diane? The woman who lived in the house I now live in.”
Mom looked at me. “You knew Diane.”
I looked between them. “What? That wasn’t her name.”
“Her name was Diane,” Ma said.
“No, it wasn’t,” I insisted.
“Yes, it was.”
“I’ve called her Deedra for twenty fucking years.”
Ma stared at me. “Yes.”
Hazel’s mouth dropped open. “Wait.”
I looked at her. “Don’t.”
“How did you think her name was Deedra?” Hazel asked.
“Because that is what I thought,” I growled.
“For years?” she whispered.
“She never corrected me.” Her damn name was Deedra. I think…
Hazel put both hands over her mouth and her shoulders started shaking.
“Don’t fucking laugh.”
That made it worse.
She bent forward and now Ma was laughing too.
I looked between them. “This isn’t that funny.”
“It really is,” Hazel managed.
“She answered to Deedra,” I insisted. I couldn’t even count how many times I had said, “Hey, Deedra.”
“Maybe she was afraid of you!” Hazel giggled.
“Why the fuck would she be afraid of me?”
Hazel gestured at all of me. “Bone.”
“What?” That didn’t explain a damn thing.
“Your name is Bone,” she laughed.
“Road name.” I had heard a hell of a lot weirder names than Bone for road names. We had a fucking Humpty in the Wisconsin chapter, and his brother, Dumpty, was in Minnesota.
“You’re covered in tattoos.”
“So?”
“You’re the president of a motorcycle club,” Mom added.
“And?”
“You make coffins,” Hazel almost shouted.
I stared at her and Hazel lost it again.
Even I couldn’t hold it anymore.
A laugh broke loose. “Fuck you.”
“Poor Diane,” Hazel sighed.
“Or Deedra,” Ma added.
“Don’t you fucking start,” I grumbled.
Ma laughed harder.
Jesus Christ.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat at this table and laughed this much.
Eventually, Hazel got herself under control. She wiped beneath her eyes. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
She laughed again. “Not even a little.”
And there it was again. That pull.
Only now it wasn’t just because she was pretty. That would’ve been easier.
“So,” I said, “you inherited Diane’s house.”
“Yes. Diane.”
“Got it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t push it.”
Her smile widened.
“And you just decided to stay.”
“I figured, why not?”
That didn’t make any fucking sense to me.
Not because it was stupid. Because I couldn’t imagine doing it. Picking up my life and leaving everything. Starting somewhere I didn’t know anyone. Every part of my life was here.
Ma.
The club.
My brothers.
Grave Casket.
Peace View.
This road.
This town.
I’d spent years building roots so deep I didn’t know where I ended and the Grave Prowlers began.
Hazel had looked at everything she’d known and decided she could leave. “Doesn’t that scare you?” I asked.
She thought about it. “A little.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“Being scared doesn’t mean I can’t do something.”
I held her gaze.
No joke this time. No smartass comment. Just Hazel looking at me like what she’d said was the most obvious thing in the world. Something about that lodged in my head.
Ma stood. “Who’s ready for pie?”
Hazel immediately raised her hand. “Me.”
I looked at her. “You just ate half a roast.”
“I have a separate stomach for dessert.”
“That’s not how stomachs work.”
“Prove it.”
I shook my head.
Ma carried plates toward the counter and Hazel started to stand. “I’ll help.”
“Sit,” Ma ordered.
“But—”
“I invited you.”
“You invited me too,” I pointed out.
Ma looked over her shoulder. “Exactly. Bring me those plates.”
Hazel laughed.
I stared at Ma. “You like her better than me.”
“She doesn’t argue as much.”
I gathered the plates and when I reached for Hazel’s, she moved her hand at the same time.
Our fingers brushed. Nothing. Barely fucking anything.
Still, both of us stopped. Her eyes lifted and mine met them. Her hand stayed there for a second longer than it needed to.
Heat sparked up my arm.
Hazel slowly pulled her fingers away. “Sorry.”
“You’re good.” My voice came out rougher than I’d intended.
I picked up her plate, then I got the hell away from that table before I did something stupid.
Like touch her again just to see if it felt the same.
I carried the dishes to the sink, set the plates down, and braced my hands against the counter for a second. I’d come over for pot roast.
That was it.
Eat.
Check on Ma.
Go back to the clubhouse.
Instead, I was standing in my mother’s kitchen wondering what Hazel’s mouth would taste like.
I glanced over my shoulder at her and knew this woman was going to be a problem.