Chapter 11
Eleven
Raff
Broken Halos – Chris Stapleton
It’s been two days. She’s under my damn skin. The feel of her under me, beside me, sleeping in the bed of my truck, it all consumes me easily. Her body against mind, my name on her lips, grounded me in ways I have never felt before.
No woman has kept my attention like this. Attraction, sure, attention, connection, never like this.
I didn’t have the typical high school experience.
Small town bullshit allowed the system to fail me.
Truth be told if Country Boy’s mom hadn’t stepped in, I would probably be in prison today.
The charges were manslaughter, but three counts, and a blood thirsty district attorney who we later learned was dating Chuck’s sister at the time.
I understand his family’s pain. I wouldn’t wish the loss of a sibling on anyone.
Destiny was my very best friend. When life kept falling apart over and over, my sister was always my hero swooping in to save me.
Chuck took her from me. I didn’t shoot him for revenge like some people in town tried to say.
I wasn’t some out of control teen. I was a boy lost in a situation and the second it became survival I pulled the trigger.
Since the story was plastered everywhere, even when I did get out of the juvenile facility most people avoided me.
Going back to school, some of the kids talked, teased even.
I would get called the county riffraff. It bothered me early on.
How could they not see the big picture? So many people judged me without knowing me.
Even though I was found innocent (finally) there was still a stigma around me.
Early on it felt like everyone around me wanted to keep a distance from me, like I was a plague.
Except Country Boy and his family. I’ll never be able to repay them for the way they embraced me at such a vulnerable time in my life. The older we got, the more Country Boy was determined to turn around the words that used to cut me deep. He taught me to embrace being the riffraff.
Stud took me in as a lost young man trying to find my place in life.
The Hellions, the entire club not just our charter embraced the broken in me.
This club saved my soul. Piece by piece they put back every shattered inch of me.
Sure, I’ll be the riffraff. I will be whatever name anyone can cook up in their brain for me.
Trash, trouble, or a fucking tyrant, only those close to me get to know the truth, my truth.
I’ve found the people closest to me, understand the circumstances.
They see I’m not proud of taking a life.
But I also won’t ever deny I’d do it again.
Only I would have taken him out sooner if it meant I could save my sister.
Most people see the man I am today; they know the depths of which my loyalty runs.
Most people once they get beyond the initial shock embrace the precarious situation I was in.
Including Josie.
Telling the story always brings up feelings for me. The years have passed but the pain has not. Anytime I’ve told a woman about my past, the fear always flashes in their eyes before coming to terms with what I did.
Not with Josie, though. There was no hesitation.
No moment of doubt for her well-being. Going through what she has, sure she doubts herself and men, but she didn’t doubt me.
The connection, I felt it. She embraced my pain.
I’ve never had anyone want to carry the weight alongside me.
Does she understand I want to carry her weight too?
That’s what makes a relationship, taking on the good and the bad of the other person.
Strolling over, I bring the croissants with me as I knock on her front door. She opens and I instantly lean down kissing her. She’s getting ready for work with curlers in her hair. I find myself smiling at the sight.
“Hello, gorgeous,” I greet.
“Well good morning to you, Dean,” she mutters with a smile.
“It’s a damn good morning now, seeing you, beautiful.”
She pats my chest playfully moving from the doorway to let me inside. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Dean.”
Reaching out, I give her ass a squeeze as Justice comes around the corner, “Dean, mom got Pop Tarts. You want one?”
I move the pastry box in my hand in front of him. “Brought croissants, chocolate, raspberry filled, and the unicorn one with sprinkles.”
He jumps with excitement. “Better than Pop Tarts! Mom, can I have one, please?”
“They aren’t mine to give out, son. But I’m sure Dean brought one for you.”
“I brought two. One for breakfast and one for a snack later,” I tell him and watch his eyes light up with joy.
To be a kid again. The time in life when innocence in life hasn’t tainted everything. The window of existence when there is happiness in the small things, like an overly sweet, frosted, croissant for breakfast rather than something nutritional.
Moving into the kitchen, I set the box down and go about fixing us each a plate and glass of milk. We settle in casually together and I find myself at ease. For the first time in a long time my brain isn’t running a mile a minute with the next task.
Unfortunately, we can’t spend the day at home since Justice has school and Josie has work. I follow her as she drops him off and to work giving her a wave as I pull off once she’s safely inside the door.
Brett has a new relationship. Whether it’s serious or not, I don’t know.
What I do know he’s been busy courting this new woman and it’s kept him away from Josie and Justice.
It’s a woman from his hometown in West Virginia.
The distance keeps him traveling back and forth.
Even though I find it fucked up that he brings his new girlfriend to Josie’s house like it’s his own when she comes to town, I can’t do anything about this right now.
One problem at a time. Our attorney is looking into their judge for asset distribution along with how to prevent Brett from dragging this out any longer.
Pulling up to Honey’s shop, Miles leans on the railing of the little front porch area tapping his watch.
I run my hand over my beard, exhaling heavily.
Typically this would irritate the shit out of me to be off schedule and deviate from my planned project time.
Today though, it doesn’t bother me at all.
In fact, I’d do it again. I hate that I made plans and held him up.
But to have breakfast with Jo and Justice, I’ll be late every damn day.
“I know I’m late,” I tell him before he can speak.
“You look like a man with a problem,” he mutters as we enter the shop to see Anthony sitting at the front desk. “You’re never late.”
“Ain’t got a problem I can’t fix.” I turn my attention to Anthony, Stud’s son, “Hey Boots, my carburetor come in?” he nods before looking to the box on the counter beside him.
I take the box and making my way down the hall and outside over the garage.
Miles has a 1956 Ford Thunderbird in desperate need of a new carburetor.
Honey said she would change it out for him, but she’s been backed up because, Tom, their other mechanic is out on vacation.
I have a break in my schedule with Mile’s home too, figure it was a great time to pop over and change this out for him.
Dixon “Miles” Hardison teeters the line between being an officer here in Salemburg and going Nomad with Smoke.
He’s our treasurer and a solid brother. He doesn’t like to feel stuck.
Therefore, he takes off on a whim to parts unknown.
Wherever the road takes him until he feels the pull to come back home.
Although, this project car has gotten his attention longer than any woman, any bike, and any ride so far.
I have to say I’m impressed with his dedication to a car that is pretty miserable to drive.
It’s a tight space for a man my height and build.
The two-seat convertible doesn’t have room to move even if it’s fun to drive.
“Wanna talk about it, brother?” He asks as I put on gloves and move to the engine bay. We already removed the previous carb to expedite the process today.
“Nothin’ to talk about.” I reply unboxing the part.
“Bullshit.” He eyes me seriously as we lean over the engine. “You claim Jo. Things seem better on her situation as her ex seems to have moved on. You’re late today.”
“You stalkin’ me?”
He laughs, “You’re the most predictable motherfucker I know.
You’re never late. Hell, you’re always early counting the seconds down on the rest of us.
We’re not young bucks. You’re thirty-five years old and never once had an ol’ lady or anything close to it.
You may not be Rex level hit it and quit it before Lux, but you damn sure are Raff and not one to be tied down. ”
“Maybe I’m finally maturing. Seeing what domestication is like.”
With his full sleeve tattooed arms outstretched resting on the car, he studies me. “You fucked her.”
I shake my head. “Damn Miles can’t believe my ass is gonna say this shit. You talk too much!”
He never talks like this.
“Either it was the best lay of your lifetime or the worst. Josie’s got you off your game.” He calls me out and I don’t know if I want to punch him or laugh at him.
I begin adjusting the alignment to bolt the carburetor in place. “She matters,” I say keeping at my task.
“Figured that much when you claimed her. Just wondering if that is gonna stick and if you’re okay. Shit has to bring up stuff for you.”
I look up at him.
“Want to make sure you aren’t tryin’ to save her because you couldn’t save Destiny.”
And this is Miles, he cares and he gets right to the point of things.
“I wanna know you’re okay, Raff.”
I nod because I’m not going to lie to a brother. “I’m good. She’s different. She’s stronger than Destiny. She doesn’t want that kind of life. She sees that shit isn’t love.”
“What’s the plan?”