Chapter 16 #2
Back at the house, we collapsed at the kitchen table with a large pizza steaming between us. Chaos begged for pepperoni until I shot her a warning glare. She slinked away with a dramatic huff and lay on her bed, eyes still hopeful.
“School starts soon,” I said between bites of pizza. “Are you excited?”
Jessa shrugged one shoulder. “I guess.” She pulled off a mushroom and popped it in her mouth.
“Are you going to play any sports?” I pressed.
Jessa wrinkled her nose. “Do I look like I play sports?”
I laughed. “You’re tall. You could play basketball.”
“Forced group activities in front of a crowd of people? Pep rallies? No thanks.”
“OK, so no sports. What about a club? Debate or yearbook or some shit?”
Her eyes flickered with concealed interest. “I might join the student newspaper.”
I controlled my expression. My last run-in with a reporter had ended with the Mavericks in the headlines. “As long as you don’t write about the club, I’m fine with that.”
Jessa scoffed. “As if high schoolers give a shit about a bunch of old men riding motorcycles.”
I chucked a banana pepper at her forehead. “We’re not old. Well, I’m not, anyway.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re old. You were born in the 1900s.”
“I nearly died of dysentery on the Oregon Trail,” I deadpanned.
Jessa furrowed her brows. “The Oregon Trail? We live in Texas.”
“You’ve never played Oregon Trail?” I stared at her, holding my chest and pretending to be wounded. “It’s a game where you cross the country in a wagon. You hunt virtual buffalo? Ford the river? It’s educational as shit.”
“Is it on Xbox?”
“Fuck, I am old,” I lamented.
I cleaned up the kitchen as Jessa sprawled on the couch with Chaos, watching a trashy reality show. She fell asleep within twenty minutes, and I shook her awake before heading off to my own room.
After a shower and careful application of the doctor-prescribed nut cream, I pulled out my phone to read the messages I’d missed while hanging with Jessa.
Merci: How’s it feel to be in the Ivy League?
Me: Your jokes are really planting doubts about how much you love me.
Merci: Trust me. I have an itch that needs scratching, and this vibrator just isn’t cutting it.
Me: I’ll scratch that itch for you. I won’t leaf you hanging.
Merci: I know you won’t. I have to get back to work. I love you.
Me: I love you too.
* * *
With two weeks left before all the Maverick kids headed back to school, Rhetta and Eva called for a barbecue at the clubhouse. But I knew their real motive. They wanted to give Jessa the chance to get to know her new extended family.
Thick smoke curled from the massive grill behind the clubhouse, ribs and steaks sizzling under Reaper’s watchful eye.
I laughed as he shooed Eva away after she tried to flip a steak before it was ready.
Merrick pointed her toward Kenna, who was laying out a variety of side dishes she’d probably whipped up herself.
Chaos played with Brisket and Hawk, along with Tilly, Talia, and Leo, the three dogs doing their damned best to herd the children into a pile.
We started near the makeshift outdoor bar, where Thane sat with Fuse.
I thought Fuse being a familiar face might make Jessa more comfortable as we started the round of introductions, though the thought of him being considered comforting was comical.
He was the biggest man in the club—and a felon.
But I knew his history of protecting girls and women, and there was no one I trusted more.
“Good to see you, kid,” Fuse said, pulling Jessa into a tight hug and lifting her feet off the ground.
She rolled her eyes. “Not a kid.”
“Says the girl who doesn’t even have a driver’s license,” he taunted.
“As soon as Hatchet buys me a car, I’m getting my permit,” she insisted.
Thane reached out a meaty palm to shake. “Thane,” he said. “I’m the president of the Mavericks.”
“Well, hello, sir president,” Jessa said in a sarcastic tone that reminded me all too much of myself. She topped it off with a curtsey.
Thane chuckled, taking her snark in stride. “Sir president. I like that. Tell you what: Rhetta’s been hinting that she wants an Audi. I’ll buy her one, and you can have her Jetta.”
“For real? I have some money saved up. I could—”
Thane stopped her. “You’re a part of the family now, darlin’. We take care of our own. Now, go meet the rest of the club. And if anyone’s an asshole to you—here, in school, on the road, anywhere—tell me. I’ll take care of them.”
I mouthed a thank you to Thane as I pressed Jessa forward, introducing her to everyone else. The club welcomed her, each Maverick making her laugh—usually at my expense. But Jessa’s shoulders tightened with every introduction, and overwhelm began to shadow her eyes.
Bayou approached with his daughter trailing just a step behind him. “Jessa, I want you to meet Gracie.”
Gracie gave a small wave.
“Hey,” Jessa said, her eyes brightening at the sight of someone her own age.
“I’m making bracelets over there,” Gracie said, gesturing toward a distant picnic table on the edges of the yard. “Want to join me?”
Jessa glanced up at me in question.
“Go ahead. You can meet everyone else later.”
They walked off, and I looked to Bayou. “I still think of Gracie as a seven-year-old. It didn’t even cross my mind that they were the same age.”
“She’s growing up too fast,” Bayou said.
“How’s she doing now?”
“Good,” he said tightly. “Therapy’s helped. I’ll never be able to repay Fuse for what he did for us.”
While Bayou and Fuse had both taken part in making Gracie’s mom and piece-of-shit boyfriend pay for the awful things they’d done to Gracie, Fuse had claimed all responsibility to ensure Bayou would get full custody.
While his hotshot lawyer had called it self-defense—and it was, to an extent—the club’s reputation and Fuse’s role as sergeant at arms didn’t help him in the eyes of the district attorney.
He’d served seven years in prison for defending an innocent girl and making her abusers pay.
But I knew he didn’t regret a second of it.
I wrapped a hand around Bayou’s shoulder and squeezed. “Fuse did it because he cared. Because it was what was best for Gracie.”
He glanced to where Gracie and Jessa sat. “Hopefully, they’ll become friends. I think they’ll be at the same high school.”
I looked at the girls, who were hunched over a rainbow of thread before them. Their fingers moved quickly as they braided and knotted the strands. Every few minutes, they’d erupt into giggles.
After eating a plate of ribs, I sat with Fuse and Merrick near the edge of the fire. The flames had burned down to embers, and the yard had quieted as most of the Mavericks had headed home. Family barbeques weren’t raucous party nights, and some of us were getting too old for that shit anyway.
“When does the gym open?” Fuse asked as he stretched his long legs out toward the fire.
“In a few weeks. There’s not much to do. All of the equipment is there. The place is clean. A few repairs, but nothing Reaper’s guys can’t knock out in a day or two.”
“Still need to hire a few trainers,” Merrick said. “Line up some classes.
Fuse sipped his scotch. “In another life, I practiced Krav Maga. I could teach some classes for you.”
“What haven’t you done?” I joked.
Fuse had retired at thirty, having started and sold a few companies and invested well. He always conveniently had a skill we needed.
“Not much,” he mused. “But I liked teaching those self-defense classes for Kenna. And I’m getting bored. Don’t really want to do the corporate thing ever again, though.”
“Fuck that,” I said. “Suits and board meetings? Give me grease, sweat, and broken fingers any day.”
Giggling sounded behind us. Kenna, Jessa, and Gracie approached with a handful of tangled colors.
“We come bearing gifts,” Kenna chirped. She held her wrist to the air and shook it, the firelight catching on the metallic threads of her bracelet.
Jessa handed Merrick a bracelet first. “This one’s for you. I chose black, red, and orange because I’ve heard you call Kenna ‘Wildfire.’”
Merrick’s scarred face softened. “Thanks, kid,” he gruffed.
Fuse sat up straighter as Gracie approached him, clearly a little surprised by the attention. “We made yours blue and silver, because you’re always so steady and calm.”
“But there’s one thread of red in there,” Jessa added. “Because we know you can blow shit up when you need to, even if you don’t lose your cool while you’re doing it.”
“Language,” I warned half-heartedly.
She rolled her eyes and handed a bracelet to me.
She bit her lip, like she was suddenly nervous. “This one is purple and teal. It matches mine. The purple is for me, the teal is for you, and the silver is for the Mavericks—intertwined because we’re a family.”
For a second, my throat tightened. The simple braid of thread looked small in her palm, but it felt just as important as the patch on my cut. My chest tightened.
“C’mere,” I said roughly. I tugged her in for a hug. “I love it.”
Jessa looped the bracelet around my wrist and tied it off with a double knot, like she needed to know it would stay.
Like she needed to know I would stay.
Kenna tied Merrick’s before leaning in for a kiss. And Gracie knotted the bracelet tight around Fuse’s thick wrist.
I lifted my arm, the colors bright against my tattooed skin. Around the fire, the others did the same. Three inked men with more scars than I could count, sporting delicate friendship bracelets.
We’d earned our patches with mayhem, blood, and broken bones. But these little bracelets proved we’d managed to build a family among the wreckage.