Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The spineless message from her pencil-dick doctor ex made me itch for my blade.
She’d told Merrick he couldn’t cut his hands off, but she hadn’t specified that I couldn’t.
She acted like it was nothing, but I’d seen the chill in her eyes.
I’d heard the fear in her voice when she’d thought someone had followed her home.
And fuck if it didn’t claw at the soft spot I’d grown for her.
“Let’s change the subject,” Merci said as she cleaned up, tossing bloody gauze and snapping the case shut. “How’s house hunting going?”
“You’re looking for a house?” Merrick asked, brow furrowing under the fresh stitches.
“Oops,” Merci said, ducking her head with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”
“It’s not.” I glanced at Merrick. “I just haven’t had a chance to tell you. I’d like to find a place with a spare bedroom. For Jessa. When her mom passes—I mean, our mom—she’ll have no place to go. I don’t want the kid to end up in the system.”
Merrick nodded like he wasn’t surprised. “What about Eva’s old place? Reaper’s doing some renovations. They’re going to rent it out again, since Kenna moved in with me.”
“Fuck, yeah. That could work.”
I dialed Eva, and excitement colored her tone at the idea of another friend living in the house she’d bought at the start of the year when she’d moved to Texas.
New carpet and a fresh coat of paint were all that stood between us.
That, and figuring out how exactly a single biker could adopt his estranged teenage sister.
As I ended the call, Merci’s soft eyes met mine, and damn if that didn’t twist the knot tighter in my gut—her looking at me like I might actually pull this off. Like I might not fuck it up for once.
“Kenna and I are heading to New Mexico in the morning,” Merrick said, sliding off the barstool. “Serpent and Jag want to talk business, and Kenna’s become friends with their old lady. We’ll be gone a week tops.”
I nodded. “See if Scorpion will sell you his grenade launcher.”
Merrick chuckled. “How the fuck am I bringing back a grenade launcher on the back of my bike? And what would you even do with it?”
I shrugged. “Could look cool hanging on the wall of my new house.”
Merrick raised a brow. “I’m sure that would go over well when a social worker checks out your place to make sure Jessa’s safe with you.”
I huffed a laugh. “Valid point. I guess my grenade launcher days are over.”
Merrick glanced at Merci as she poured herself a drink at the bar, his voice quieting. “Keep an eye on her for me while I’m gone?”
As if I could take them off her.
* * *
The next morning, an offer to take Jessa out for breakfast led to a day of brother-and-sister bonding.
Jessa’s wry sense of humor mirrored my own.
It caught me off guard at first, hearing my brand of sarcasm in her lighter, younger tone—like an echo from my past. And, while she’d grown up with a parent, it didn’t sound like her childhood had been much brighter than mine.
The second I noticed her toes peeking through the fabric of her tennis shoes, I announced I was taking her to the mall to make up for fifteen years of missed birthdays.
She protested at first, saying she was fine and could buy what she needed with the money she earned at the diner.
But the kid’s smile when she walked out in a new pair of hot-pink Nikes said everything.
After two pairs of new shoes, a backpack, and a few books, we made our way to the clothing section.
“I'm not buying you those,” I said as Jessa eyed a pair of shorts that showed way more skin than I was comfortable with.
“Come on,” she whined. “They’ll only look short because I’m tall, and that’s not my fault.”
“No way. They’re a gateway to teenage pregnancy.”
She rolled her eyes. The thought that she wasn’t used to anyone giving a damn what she wore burned a little.
She moved on to dresses, and I followed, carrying the bags.
“So, have you made a decision?” she asked, holding up a short dress.
I raised a brow in a challenge that asked Do you really want me to veto another outfit?
Jessa giggled, and I realized she was just fucking with me. She hung the dress on the rack and riffled through a pile of jeans to find her size.
“About what?” I asked.
“Seeing Mom. Before she’s, you know.” Jessa mimed a dramatic death face, hanging her tongue out.
I shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”
“Yeah, you made a decision? Or, yeah, you’ll see her?”
“I’ll see her. Only for you, though.” My chest felt tight. I’d spent years making peace with the fact that I didn't need a mother. But one look at Jessa’s hopeful face, and some of that bitterness floated away.
Jessa threw her arms around me in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get mushy on me, kid.”
She smacked my shoulder. “Not a kid.”
“I guess you’re too old for ice cream then?”
“Not a chance.” Jessa handed me her bags, digging into her purse. “Ice cream’s on me.”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that.”
She narrowed her eyes, resting her hands on her hips. “You just spent, like, a thousand dollars on me. I can afford an ice cream,” she sassed.
Her attempt at independence made me smile, so I let her win that argument. As we approached the roadside ice cream shop, I heard a familiar yip.
“Hatchet,” Merci yelled from across the street, waving at us.
Chaos danced on her dainty paws, excited to see me. Merci crossed the street and then released the leash, allowing her to scamper to my feet.
“There’s my girl,” I said, picking up the ball of wiggling fur. She licked my face. “Jessa, this is Chaos, my pup.”
“Our pup,” Merci said, reaching out a hand. “You must be Jessa. I’m Merci.”
“Hi,” Jessa said, suddenly shy. She took Merci’s hand in a hesitant handshake.
“Wow, you do look a lot like Hatchet,” Merci exclaimed. “Coast told me you were his spitting image.”
“Coast is the guy you tried to punch,” I explained.
Jessa giggled. “He deserved it.”
Merci threw me a look that said everything running through my head—this kid would be trouble in the clubhouse when she got older.
My protective instincts kicked in. I’d have to make it real fucking clear that my little sister was off-limits when she turned eighteen.
It was funny how fast I’d gone from a complete stranger to big brother.
“We’re getting ice cream. Want to join us?” I offered.
Merci shook her head. “I have to run. Besides, Chaos already got a pup cup today.”
I kissed the pup on the top of her head, and she nipped at me, teeth grazing my cheek.
Merci said goodbye and carried Chaos away. I watched her go longer than I should’ve, and Jessa’s knowing little smirk told me she caught it, too.
With her cookie dough and sprinkles concoction and my strawberry waffle cone in hand, I considered how to start the conversation rattling in my head.
“So, I was thinking,” I started.
“Sounds dangerous,” Jessa needled. “Does your brain overheat when you do that?”
“Ha ha. You’re so funny.”
“I know,” she quipped with a big grin.
I shook my head. “I’m working on getting my own place. With a room for you.”
“Really?” Shock colored her expression.
“Yeah. I grew up in foster care. I don’t want that for you.” I couldn’t stand the thought of her moving through a series of strangers’ homes with a trash bag for her things.
Tears misted Jessa’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“What’ll your girlfriend think?”
I played dumb. “Who?”
Jessa rolled her eyes. “Merci?”
“Merci’s not my girlfriend. We just share Chaos because we found her together.”
Jessa looked at me doubtfully. “But you like her.”
I kept my expression neutral. “Merci and I are just friends.”
“Sure. Friends,” Jessa said, unconvinced.
I leveled a gaze at my sister in challenge.
“I think you have a crush on her. You’re in love with her,” she said, drawing out her words in a teasing tone. “You want to marry her.” Jessa mimed kissing.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re a menace.”
Jessa grinned. “I know.”
“Let’s change the subject. What color do you want to paint your room?”
“Wait. You already have a place? And I get to pick the color?” She nearly jumped in the air in excitement.
“My friend, Eva, owns the place, and she said we could pick.”
“Hot pink,” Jessa said confidently.
I grimaced.
“Too much?”
“Choose whatever you want, but you’re stuck with it until you go to college. I’m not repainting it in three months just because you got tired of living in Barbie hell.”
“Hm, good point. I should choose something calming. Like lavender.”
“Whatever you want. While you’re at it, pick out some furniture online and text me links to what you like.”
“How do you have money for all this?” Jessa asked. She shifted uncomfortably, like she didn’t really want the answer.
“Nothing bad,” I assured. “I’ve lived above the clubhouse for years. Haven’t spent money other than buying a new bike every time I crash one.”
“Every time you crash one? How many times have you crashed a bike?”
“Doesn’t matter. My reckless days are over now.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Her tone was light and teasing, but her eyes lingered on me with an emotion I couldn’t place. Like she saw through my bullshit and didn’t know what to do with it. Neither did I.
I’d never been anyone’s safety net before.
The idea scared the shit out of me. But not enough to make me back down.
It wasn’t that I thought I’d be good at being a de facto parent, just that walking away wasn’t an option.
Jessa needed an adult in her life, and I was about to be the only one left standing.