Chapter 18
I DON’T GO AND SEE Chief until the next evening.
I just needed the day to process what happened. To gather my thoughts and emotions.
By the time I reach the compound, the sunlight is dropping low, rendering everything less than real. People are everywhere at the lot, half of them bikers I know and half from other clubs, no doubt working together on some illegal scheme.
Travis is with me, and we park out front.
Chief is standing on the deck, talking to a barrel-chested man I don’t recognize.
Travis doesn’t leave my side when we get out.
I don’t see Jasmine, and I have no idea if she’s still here.
Either way, I am doing this. I march past the bikes, ignoring the whistle one of the guys lets out when he spots me in my cutoff shorts and boots.
Travis walks with me, quiet. Chief looks up and the lines in his face flatten, and for a second, I see my dad instead of a biker boss, just a tired man who has lied a million lies and doesn’t know how to fix them.
I stop at the bottom of the steps. “I need to talk to you.”
Chief dismisses the stranger beside him with a nod, to which he shrugs and steps away. “I’m glad you’re here, kid. You hungry? We got leftovers.”
“No,” I say, fast.
He nods, gestures with his head for me to follow. “Come on.”
Travis squeezes my hand, then peels away and heads toward the bonfire where the other guys are drinking.
I’m suddenly cold, skin prickling, stomach grinding.
As soon as we step inside, Chief’s hand lands on my shoulder.
It’s gentle, but solid. I don’t flinch away, because I’m not a child, I’m an adult and I need to handle this the way an adult would.
He leads me to his office and I step inside.
He closes the door and then waits as I sit on the sofa, to which he sits across from me, elbows on his knees, staring at me with those eyes.
The ones that my mother loved so much, the ones that bring me such comfort on hard days, but also the ones that lied to me.
The ones that hurt me.
He studies me. “You wanna yell, go ahead. I can take it, baby.”
Something about the way he says it, like he’s braced for the pain, makes my chest cave in. My voice wobbles. “I want to know the truth. All of it. Not just Mom’s version, but yours, too. Don’t sugarcoat it. I want it laid bare.”
He lets his breath out slow. “I didn’t know about her until she showed up here telling me she was mine.
I knew Demon had a kid, I assumed she belonged to him.
Her mom, Clarice, was with Demon. As you know, Demon and I have bad blood and one night, after your mom and I got into a bad fight and I thought we broke up, so I went out on the town.
Got drunk and saw Clarice. I took the chance, I was angry and stupid, I wanted to know that I fucked his woman. So that’s what I did. It was once.”
He won’t look at me. He’s staring at his hands.
“Did you tell Mom?”
His jaw flexes. “Yeah, I did, but not right away. I knew if she found out, she would leave and I was right, when I told her, it was the end of us. Didn’t know Clarice was pregnant until I saw her in town months later.
Didn’t even think twice. Figured Demon was having a kid and never thought of it again.
Clarice died and, well, you know the rest.”
I let that sit, taking deep breaths. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
He exhales, running his hands through his hair.
“Because I didn’t want you to hate me, Violet.
I made a mess and I was scared. I knew what it would do to you.
I was going to tell you, believe me. Then Jasmine started causing trouble and I thought, was it worth telling you?
She is bad news, maybe it was best you didn’t know. ”
The hush between us is so deep, I can hear my own pulse.
I say nothing.
He tries again. “You’re my girl, Mischief. Always have been. Nobody replaces you, not Jasmine, not anyone. But I didn’t want that coming in here, tearing what we had apart.”
I swallow hard, throat raw. “She’s not coming in between us. You are.” When he flinches, it hurts. “All I wanted was the truth. Why can’t anyone just give it to me, straight up?”
“You’re right, you deserve the truth. I was going to give it to you, for what it’s worth. Jasmine hasn’t been easy, and honestly, I’m not sure I want that girl anywhere near you.”
I meet his eyes. “She’s my sister.”
He looks at me, his eyes changing, hardening slightly. “Yeah, but you don’t owe her anything. She’s got a bad vibe and she’s already causing problems. She was raised by Demon, and I don’t trust her. I don’t trust anything about her.”
“Is this why Demon hurt Mom?”
He nods. “He is angry, and he wants revenge. He wants me to suffer. He wants me to burn for everything that happened back then. Demon is far from gone, and Jasmine is only an added problem.”
I nod, rubbing my hands together.
We sit for a while, not talking. He finally reaches for the bottle of Jack on the table, pops the cap, pours some into a chipped mug. “You want one?”
I shake my head. My mouth is dry. “What’s Demon going to do now?”
Chief’s brow furrows, jaw set. “He’s here for blood. I don’t trust that Jasmine isn’t feeding him information. She sits around, telling me she wants to get to know me, but I don’t believe a word that comes out of her mouth. She was raised by the devil, there’s no way she’s good.”
I nod. But I can’t stop thinking about Jasmine. Is she truly bad, or is she a girl confused? She spent her life thinking one thing, only to find out another. Could she be genuine, or could she truly be the thing that brings this club to their knees? It’s a terrifying thought.
“I don’t want you near her, Violet. I mean it.”
I cross my legs. “She is my blood, Dad.”
“Not in this house, she isn’t. She’s not a good egg, trust me on that.”
“What if she’s just trying to be part of our lives?”
He shakes his head. “She isn’t. Need you to believe me and do as I’m asking.”
I exhale, but nod. “Okay.”
More silence.
“We good?”
“You’re my dad, I love you, I’ll always come back to you but I need some time now. Just don’t lie to me anymore. I can handle the things you do in this club, the violence and pain, but I can’t handle being lied to by someone who is meant to be the most honest person in my life.”
He pushes up, walking over and squatting down in front of me so we’re eye to eye. He reaches out, taking my chin in his hand. “I’m sorry, kid,” he murmurs. “For what it’s worth, I truly was trying to protect you.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But I’m old enough to handle this now.”
“Know you are.”
I hug him.
Then, I get up and leave, out into the compound, back to where Travis waits by the bonfire.
I feel better, even though the hurt still lingers.
I understand why he chose not to tell me yet, I really do, I am just tired of the whole world spinning in lies.
I need honesty, and even though I have fixed things with Dad, I feel like a storm is coming.
Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
Amber.
Who the hell is Amber?
A wind picks up in the yard, and I watch the smoke from the fire twist and disappear into the sky. When Travis sees me, he stands, walking over and curling his hand behind my neck. “You good now, baby?”
“Yeah,” I say, staring into his eyes. “For now.”
I wonder when the next storm will hit.
I DON’T SLEEP THAT night.
Not at all.
We come home from the bonfire and my brain is racing.
So many thoughts of Chief, my mom, Jasmine, all of it.
I stare at the wall for so long, praying it will help me drift off, but it doesn’t.
Travis is asleep next to me, stretched out, his breath deep and slow.
I have this feeling in my chest, this nagging sensation that my world is about to unfold.
It lingers like a bad cold, and no matter how much I try and talk my way out of it, it just won’t leave.
When the morning light comes, I climb out of bed, giving up.
After I shower, I shuffle around the kitchen while the coffee brews.
I make toast and eggs, butter melting over the crust, but nothing tastes like anything.
I take a few sips of coffee, then dump the rest and reload the dishwasher.
Travis comes in about an hour later, wearing nothing but his jeans, chest and arms bare, hair sticking up from sleep and making him look scarily adorable.
He sees me sitting cross-legged on the couch and grins, that half-crooked, gloriously reckless smile. “Morning, angel,” he murmurs, coming over and kissing me, long and deep.
He tastes of toothpaste and Travis, delightful.
“I gotta go in and give Chief a hand today. You good?”
“I’m good,” I smile.
The silence after he goes is so complete, it’s like the house is holding its breath, waiting for my next disaster.
God, I need to shake this feeling.
I clean until sweat trickles down my forehead and soaks my shirt, desperately trying to turn my brain off.
I can’t get that feeling to leave, and it’s eating away at me.
Around noon, the postman comes by, bringing a letter to the front door.
I have to sign for it, even though it’s addressed to Travis.
Once the postman leaves, I close the door and stare down at the large envelope in my hand.
DEPARTMENT OF CHILDREN AND FAMILY SERVICES.
For a minute my body goes rigid. All the hair on my arms stands up.
Why in the world does Travis have a letter from DCFS?
I know I shouldn’t, I know it is wrong, but I can’t stop myself.
I bring my fingernail to the edge and open it.
My heart is racing and my palms are sweating, as if I know what I’m going to find inside, even if I don’t want to admit it.