Chapter 8 #2
This should have been easy. Roll into Sinner territory, lose the assholes riding my taillight, lay low for a while, and then move on.
Cut and run. But the situation has snowballed into so much more than that.
And the desperation, along with the desire to make this all go away, is backing me into a corner.
One I’m not sure I can claw my way out of.
I need protection, safety, not another threat. I need my brother.
When Ange slides my burrito onto the counter, I pull out a five-dollar bill and smile at her. “Sorry, do you think you can make me another coffee?”
When I get back to the house, Jack is leaning against the counter, scrolling his phone. His wild hair is tugged into a loose knot at the back of his head, his leather cut strewn across the kitchen island.
“Hey,” I say lightly. “What are you up to?”
“Just catching up on the news,” he says, eyes darting to me.
He pockets his device and smiles. But the expression is a far cry from the one he used to give me.
All my life, he’d look at me with a full grin, green eyes bright and full of laughter.
He was never quite like Axe and Jimmy. Cold and unfeeling, cutthroat.
Jack has a big heart, and part of me has always felt that he’s too good for this life.
He’s scary when he wants to be, yes. When his kin or his way of life are threatened. I’ve seen who he can turn into. How fast that temper of his can slip.
Violence. It was bred into him.
When I was young, I was the kind of girl no one fucked with, because I had a scary big brother with a snake-wrapped skull tattooed on his arm.
A kid picking on me in elementary school who suddenly couldn’t look me in the eye.
The boy who broke my heart in the ninth grade who started avoiding me in the hallways.
Then the night Jack saw the bruise on my face, the black and blue marking my ribs. Marks his father left.
I tried to hide it. The way my mom did. The Sinners are a brotherhood.
Club first, family second. They ignored the bruises on my mom’s face.
Even Jimmy did for a time. But the day Jack saw what his father had done to me , he let a little of that violence show.
Pure fury. A side of my brother I’d never seen before, but the side I knew would keep me safe.
Jack’s always been a protector. I’ve missed that. Having a person in my life who has my back. An ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on. Arms to run to when I got myself into trouble.
I hold out the to-go cup full of hot coffee. “It’s been a while, but I think I remember how you take it.”
He hesitates, his focus dropping from my face. Another one of those moments where he can’t look at me.
“It’s coffee, Jack. It’s not gonna bite your hand off,” I say, forcing a smile as I press it into his chest.
With a small breath out, he takes it and brings the cup to his lips.
“Well?” I ask. “Did I get it right?”
This time, the smile he gives me is genuine. “Been a hot minute since I’ve had caramel in my coffee. Forgot how sweet you like your caffeine.”
I laugh. “Got it. No shot of caramel next time.”
“No, I like it. Guess I stopped adding it at some point. Don’t remember when, though.”
“Too tough for sugary coffee? You’re a real one now, Grave Man.”
Chuckling, he takes another swig.
My chest tightens. Other than the odd “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Birthday” text, it’s been almost five years since Jack and I have had a conversation.
And even then, our talks were short. Quick phone calls.
A video chat here and there. It was jarring at first, how quickly the distance between us grew, how easy it was for him to stop calling, to stop responding to messages.
He was busy, he said. Axe was in jail. The club was in shambles.
I understood.
Club first, family second.
At some point we stopped being family. After so many unreturned calls, I stopped trying. I moved on. I’m not mad. Not anymore. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt like hell.
“You… talk to your brother much these days?” I ask him.
He tilts his head. “Linc? Uh, sometimes. Small town and all. Why?”
“I don’t know,” I say casually. “We spent some time in a cell together the other night. Just… trying to get the vibe on him, I guess. He seems different.”
With a shrug, he says, “Vibe is the same as it’s always been. He’s on one side, we’re on another.”
Right. Except it’s not like that at all. But club business is on a need-to-know.
“Don’t call him my brother, all right?” he says, darting a look at me. “I’ve managed to keep that little fun fact on the down low, and I’d like it to stay that way. Far as anyone’s concerned, my only brothers are the ones who wear the patch.”
With a nod, I slide onto one of the stools lining the marble-topped island, taking in the brightly lit kitchen, the colourful walls.
Jack watches me, his scrutiny making my stomach twist.
“This place seems too clean for you,” I say to break the tension.
He hums, green eyes softening a fraction. “Yeah, that’s Triss. She doesn’t have much room for disorder. And since I like my balls where they are, I just do what she says.”
A snort escapes me as I pick up my coffee.
“I was surprised to see who you ended up with. I creeped her on Instagram a few times. It was hard to picture you with someone like her. Someone so… I don’t know.
Put together. But then I met her.” I let out a light laugh.
“She’s mean. I like it. She seems good for you. ”
“She is. She’s ah”—he rubs the back of his neck—“she’s my family.”
Family. I’m his family. But we’ve both forgotten that.
Rather than let that thought simmer, I change the subject.
“So. Uh, how long you been living here?”
“Not really sure.” He scans the room thoughtfully. “One day I started keeping my shit here, and suddenly I had half a closet and my own drawer in the bathroom. Maybe three years?”
“Thinking about kids?”
“Don’t know. Maybe.”
We fall silent. It’s heavy. More of that awkwardness. More of the distance that’s been growing between us for a decade.
Head lowered, I twist my fingers in my lap. “Not gonna ask me about my life? I mean… even Axe did that.”
He zeroes in on me, expression hardening. He should want to know, shouldn’t he? How I’ve been living, who I’ve been hanging out with?
My heart sinks. “I’m… sort of getting the feeling you’re not all that happy I’m here.”
He moves his hand over his mouth, assessing me. Finally, he says, “I’m just… surprised to see you. I thought Jimmy was pretty clear about you not coming back here.”
I arch a brow. “So?”
“It was an order, if I remember.”
“I don’t take orders from Jimmy.” A half-truth. I pick my battles with my father. Like Axe, Jimmy has this need for control. He’s the king, and his rule is law. But I’m his daughter, not one of his men. And I can only take so much of that shit.
“He pulled you out of here for a reason, Gracie,” my brother says. “South Bay is not a place for a girl like you. And this life? It’s not safe.”
I purse my lips. “You may not know this, Jack, since it’s been five years since you bothered to pick up the phone, but I’m not a girl anymore. Jimmy might have ordered me to stay away, but he didn’t order you to stop speaking to me. You did that all on your own.”
Okay . Maybe I am a little mad.
Jaw ticking, he pushes to his full height, crossing his arms, big muscles bulging.
Same shit Linc tried to pull on me a half hour ago at the coffee shop, same thing his father used to do.
God, they look alike. Linc looks more like his mother.
But Jack? Spitting image of the man who used to use my stomach as a punching bag.
Right down to the piercing green eyes. Though his father’s were colder, emptier.
I swallow back my visceral reaction to that move, digging my nails into my palms. Jack would never be that man.
He’s not capable of that kind of hate. But sometimes it’s hard not to draw the comparison.
My brain understands the difference, but the nerves twisting in my stomach seem to have forgotten.
I hold his stare, waiting for an apology, or maybe an explanation. We were close, and then we weren’t. He abandoned me, and I still don’t know why.
A loud buzz snags his attention, and he tugs out his phone. He eyes the screen, then grabs his cut from the counter. “Axe needs me.”
Club first, family second.
“Sure, Jack.” I nod to the cup on the counter. “Don’t forget your coffee.”
His eyes linger on it a little too long, then he backs away. “Too sweet for me after all. See you later.”
Then he’s gone, the door slamming behind him. The rumble of his bike comes a minute later, as I’m dumping his caramel coffee down the drain.