Chapter 3
Caitlyn glanced at the sink, a battlefield of greasy pans and crusted plates.
The mountain seemed to mock her. Dishes rose higher each time she came home.
The money she clipped to the curtain was missing—most likely taken by Pops—and the dishes still sat dirty.
There went trying to bribe her kid to do kitchen chores.
A mother could hope, but Owen wouldn’t be of any help, lost in his usual video game.
She stuck a sticky note on the fridge with a list of emergency numbers. She’d need to grab some tape to make it more permanent so she didn’t have to stick up a new one every weekend.
Trusting Pops with Owen was a gamble since Owen clearly cared more for Pops than the old man looked out for her boy.
“Alright, Owen.” Caitlyn knelt beside the lanky form sprawled on the living room floor. Owen, headphones jammed on his head, was a tangle of limbs and controller buttons.
Not looking up, he said something to the person on the other side of the headset.
“Remember the drill tonight? Veggies are chopped in the crisper, and the lasagna is cooling on the stove. You and Pops.” Her gaze flickered to the recliner where Pops sat, eyes shut. Was he sleeping or pretending?
Maybe he didn’t hear her. Caitlyn tapped the top of his headphones.
He tilted his head and scowled at her. He ripped off one side of the headset, revealing a red ear from the tight fit.
“Pops can take care of himself,” he muttered, his voice filled with as much impatience flowing through Caitlyn, knowing she might end up late to work.
“That’s not the point,” she said, her voice low. “There are emergency numbers on the fridge. Try not to lose them this time. Understand?”
Owen stared at her, a flicker of something, annoyance, maybe a hint of fear, crossing his face before he mumbled another “K” and slammed the headphones back on.
“Veggies. Snack. Lasagna supper. On the stove.” Caitlyn raised a brow, waiting for him to acknowledge that he understood.
He rolled his eyes in response and went back to his game.
Caitlyn straightened, the knot of tension in her stomach tightening. She ruffled Owen’s hair, but he swatted her hand away. A familiar wave of frustration washed over her.
Brushing it off, she announced, “I’m heading out, Pops.”
Pops didn’t even crack an eye open. In the flickering light of the television, she saw a tremor run through his fist and thanked God for another day of her father’s sobriety.
Pops, known as Welder, used to lead the Ghost Riders but was no longer welcomed.
Her brother rarely visited, blaming her and their father for the past events involving the club, her, and Silas.
Standing there, waiting for some acknowledgment, Caitlyn sighed. “Food is out. Owen’s playing games. Don’t…” She hesitated, the words catching in her throat, “Thanks for keeping an eye on my boy tonight.”
Pops mumbled something suspiciously like, “leave the kid alone,” but Caitlyn didn’t stay to hear it. She hurried out the door, afraid of becoming later than she already was, and prayed for a veil of protection over her father and son.
Nothing and everything had changed.
Sebastian stood outside the stables, inhaling the scents of horses and sunbaked hay, cooling with the setting sun.
On the hill overlooking the stables, the stone farmhouse frowned upon him.
He lost count of the years he avoided this place.
Avoided his family. Avoided his twin sister.
Sebastian let them all down. Let her down.
And it hadn’t changed.
Just like the candles his mother kept in the windows and the old farmhouse he grew up in, they kept everything original because his father liked it that way.
His parents claimed it was good for tourism.
People enjoyed going back to the past. It was funny how people seemed attracted to the dead, enamored with history.
If only the past would stay behind him. Sebastian became a police officer to protect and see justice served, but he failed one too many times to uphold his vow.
A truck drove down the lane and pulled up alongside the stables. Sebastian hunched down near a rusted tractor to keep out of view. He had parked his motorcycle a block away next to another driveway shielded by a line of trees.
A man in a ball cap exited the truck. “Sam.”
Sebastian’s twin sister, Samantha, emerged from the stables, and she embraced the man.
She grabbed the man’s face and kissed his cheek.
His mom had emailed that they’d gone on a cruise and planned to travel for the next few months.
They left Samantha behind to run the stables and lead the horseback tours through the battlefields, but she wasn’t alone, to his relief.
The man wrapped his arm around Samantha, and she tilted her head back, laughing at something the man said.
She must have let go of most of the staff early today. His family often hired a couple of hands and an extra guide for the busy season. Plus, they hired a few teens for the summer who needed a place to go to stay out of trouble.
Sebastian waited. When the sun disappeared and dusk took over, their shadows lengthened in the barn.
Getting closer would risk being spotted out in the open distance between the tractor and the house.
If someone caught him, they might call the police, and then his family would find out he returned.
It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.
With the first camera installed inside the tractor, Sebastian waited.
Not long after the man arrived, Samantha led him toward the house.
His father had security cameras inside the barn to check on the horses.
Sebastian had helped his father install them before he left to become a cop.
He kept to the darkness, slipping into the barn, grateful they never locked the barn doors.
He needed more time to finish adding his security system on the property.
It wasn’t the homecoming he envisioned, but how could he face his father after failing to protect Sam for the second time?
Their father understood Sebastian’s need to get away, but Sam—not so much. With his departure, there was little else to be said between them. She wrote him emails and sent him texts until he stopped giving them his new number. Would she even want to see him?
While the police chief back in Johnstown assured him it was safe to return to work, Sebastian lived with the Sharks for almost two years, and his gut twisted at the thought of them coming after him and his family.
And they would if they thought it’d help them get revenge for taking them down.
The club broke up. Some members had gone to prison, and some were dead, but Sebastian couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his belly that one of them could come after him.
Some wouldn’t remain in prison for long.
It was better he kept his distance from Sam.
Sebastian returned to his motorcycle, his jaw clenched. Though he wished to conceal his return, he detested having to leave again. He didn’t plan to go far this time, and he had the cameras and Yeats to ensure his family stayed safe.