Chapter 6 #2
“Finn, grab a couple of bags,” I ordered as I swung open my door. “Don’t go in empty-handed.”
“There’s a motorcycle!” he said excitedly.
“Groceries,” I reminded him.
“I’ll get my nightstand,” Jesse announced.
I grabbed as many bags as I could carry from the back seat and followed Finn to the front door, hoping that Curtis was inside because I didn’t have a key. When the door opened, I added asking for one to my mental checklist.
“Hey, baby,” Curtis greeted, making me roll my eyes. “Are there more groceries?”
“Backseat,” I replied as I passed him.
“Cool.”
I carried the bags into the kitchen and came to an abrupt stop when I noticed the older man seated at the table.
He was wearing jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a tattered but well-loved leather cut with patches on the breast. He got to his feet as I set the grocery bags on the counter, his salt-and-pepper bearded chin tipping my way.
“You look like your mother,” he said, his lips tipping up at the corners.
I recognized that gravelly voice.
“Grease?”
“How you doin’, Theodora?” he asked gently, his smile widening.
“Jesus, you got old.”
He threw his head back as he laughed, the sound coming from deep in his belly. He was still grinning when he stopped.
“You’re still as bratty as you ever were.”
“Guilty,” I confessed.
It was weird, seeing him after all these years.
I hadn’t thought about him in so long, not until he’d reached out, but all of a sudden it felt like no time had passed at all.
Like, I’d just seen him sitting outside our trailer, shooting the shit with my pop, each of them holding a bottle of bourbon.
“Well, come over here,” he said gruffly, walking toward me. “Give this old guy a hug.”
I grinned as I met him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
He smelled the same as when he used to catch me by the arm as I went running past their chairs, teasingly lifting me by the waist like he was going to throw me into the small fire at their feet while I squealed.
Jesus. The memories hit me like a semi. They weren’t vague at all.
Suddenly, it was like I could remember every one.
Grease, roaring up on his Harley. His wife, Callie, sitting behind me on the porch steps, her fingers gentle as she braided my hair so it would stop falling into my eyes.
My dad and Grease playfully wrestling around in the front yard, shoving at each other’s heads as they laughed.
My little brother, Coop, jumping onto Grease’s back with a yell, his short arms barely able to circle Grease’s neck as he tried to put him in a headlock.
I cleared my throat and pulled away as Jesse, Finn, and Curt came in, carrying the rest of the groceries.
“Finn only carried in one bag,” Jess complained.
“I had to pee!” Finn defended himself. His eyes came to me. “Curt said I could do it in the yard!”
“Please tell me it was the backyard,” I said as Grease laughed.
“He made him go around the house,” Jesse reassured me.
“Go wash your hands,” I ordered. “Then come back so I can introduce you.”
Finn went running, and I turned, putting my arm around Jesse’s shoulder.
“Jess, this is Grease. He was one of Papa’s oldest friends.”
“Hey, nice to meet you,” Jesse said, extending their hand.
“You too, sweetheart,” Grease said softly, his eyes looking them over.
“Do you know my dad?” Jesse asked after a moment.
“Haven’t seen him in a while,” Grease replied tenderly. “But, sure. Knew Royce when he was a boy.”
“Yeah?”
“He was hell on wheels, even then,” Grease said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You ever make it out to see him?” He looked at me.
“We go once a year, always,” I confirmed, giving Jess a squeeze. “More if we can, but always at least once.”
“Good,” Grease said as Finn came racing back into the room. “Means a lot, gettin’ visitors.”
“Done,” Finn announced. “Hey, I’m Finn!” He reached for Grease’s hand. “Oh, cool!” He looked back and forth between where Curtis was standing, leaning against the counter, and Grease. “You match. Are you on Curt’s team?”
Curtis chuckled.
“Club,” Jesse corrected impatiently, yanking Finn back toward us. “Jesus, Finn.”
“What?” he asked in bewilderment. “You said they’re like team shirts.”
“Yeah, boy,” Grease said with a chuckle. “I’m on Curt’s team.”
“Awesome,” Finn mumbled, embarrassed.
“I got brats for dinner,” I told Grease, gesturing to the groceries. “Are you staying?”
“It’s two in the afternoon and already she’s askin’ about dinner,” Grease grumbled good-naturedly to Curtis.
“You’re old,” I retorted. “Don’t you have dinner at like four o’clock?”
Curtis laughed, and Grease glared at me.
“Feelin’ awfully brave with your new man at your back,” Grease joked.
“Eh.” I shrugged. “I could take you.”
He chuckled. “Won’t be stayin’ for dinner. Got some shit to do. Just wanted to stop by and make sure you were settlin’ in.”
“We’re good,” Curtis said, moving to me so he could slide an arm around my shoulders, his hand dangling down my chest.
“See that,” Grease replied with a nod. “Well, I’ll get outta your hair so you can get those groceries put away.” He smiled at the kids and then looked back at me. “Barbecue at the compound on Saturday. Callie said to tell you to bring a side.”
“We’ll be there,” Curtis replied for both of us.
“Good.” Grease squeezed my shoulder as he left, giving it a little shake. Then he disappeared. A few moments later, I heard the Harley out front roar to life.
“That Fat Boy is Grease’s?” I asked in surprise.
“Yep. My bike’s in the garage. Why?”
“He’s old,” Jesse answered, understanding my comment.
Curtis laughed as we started unpacking the groceries. “He’s not that old.”
I shot him a look.
“He’ll be sittin’ a bike until the day he dies,” he told me seriously, glancing toward the front door. “No such thing as too old.”
I wanted to argue, but by the look on Curtis’s face, the subject was not only a sensitive one but one he considered closed.
I paused on my way across the kitchen as Finn stopped abruptly in front of me, his arms wrapped around a gallon of milk. He twisted to look at Curtis.
“Hey, where’s Dylan?”