I had to stifle the urge to pepper him with questions, to ask about the biker gang. I opened my mouth, willing the words to sound casual. "Connie said he went to California."
Stan peered off into the distance, somewhere behind me. He looked older, sadder, not the way I'd remembered him when I was a kid. Back then, he always looked like he stepped off the set of an old western. Tall, well-built from manual labor, with a chiseled face weathered by the elements. Now, the sadness gave him this air of vulnerability, made him look less like a cowboy and more like just another old man.
“He did. Went off to California a few years ago. Hasn’t kept in touch.”
I wanted to ask about the rest of the story, but I forced myself to say something casual. “That’s hard.”
Stan was silent for a while, then cleared his throat. “Now, you best not be a stranger, June. I used to help Mrs. Crawford out with the repairs on that old place after Mr. Crawford died. We kept it up pretty good, but there’s some stuff that needs fixing, I know it. I don’t want to hear about you hiring anyone to do it. Not when I’m here. It keeps me busy. I’m not pushing too many cattle anymore. Got too much time on my hands as it is.”
“That's kind of you, Stan." I took that as my cue to leave. Then, just as I stood, I heard the sound of motorcycles coming down the road. Looking up, I saw dust being kicked up on the horizon. “What is that?”
Stan rose, shielding his face and squinting. “Probably bikers passing through,” he said.
“I wouldn’t think you’d get much of that, back here on this road. It’s not really a main highway or anything.”
He grunted. “No, we don’t get much of that.” He didn’t take his eyes off the road, just stood there motionless as they drove into view, two bikes and a minivan. He set his coffee down. “Huh.”
The caravan pulled into Mr. Austin’s driveway.
“Were you expecting company?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he said. A dark look crossed his face, and I suddenly felt like I’d stepped into some business that was not my concern.
I should leave, I thought.
“I should probably be going-” I started to say, but stopped, watching the two bikers dismount. Both wore helmets and leather jackets, and as one bent to pull off his helmet, I could see the words on the back - Inferno Motorcycle Club. My heart raced.
Connie had said he had joined a biker gang out in California.
Then the other guy pulled off his helmet. His hair was longer now, falling ragged in pieces around his face and down past his chin. A few days of stubble dotted his cheeks, giving him a rough look.
As if he needed to look any wilder; he looked plenty rugged in the dusty bike gear he wore, eyes bloodshot and dark circles underneath. Yeah, he definitely looked rough.
He looked up, making eye contact, and my heart stopped. I felt an immediate jolt of electricity pass through my body as his eyes met mine. He might be older now, but I’d know that face - those eyes - anywhere.
Cade.
Axe
I pulled off my helmet and walked up the gravel driveway toward the porch, steeling myself for the conversation I didn’t want to have with my father. It was funny how going through town might have calmed me, but as soon as we pulled into the drive of my childhood home, my heart was thump - thump - thumping in my chest like crazy.
The sprawling white ranch house looked the same as it always had when I was growing up, but the pastures by the house were overgrown. It wasn’t like my dad to let that go, and I wondered if he was okay. Guilt ripped through me at the thought that I'd left my dad here alone, minding the ranch by himself, while I'd been in California running with the Inferno Motorcycle Club.
I felt guilty, but I was also afraid of my dad's reaction, of the disappointment that would inevitably color our relationship.
Five deployments with the Marines, three years of being the club's enforcer, and the thought of seeing my dad again was what struck fear into me.
That was irony for you.
I didn't notice her until she stepped out from behind the beam on the front porch.
June.
Holy shit.
All grown up, but I’d know her anywhere. She was prettier now than she’d been in high school, and I suddenly felt like I was right back there, seventeen again, nervous and fumbling.
What the fuck is she doing here?
I had never expected to see her again, not after all this time. Sure, early on I kept tabs on her, thought I might run into her on a base somewhere, but I gave up on that fantasy a long time ago. The thought of her seeing who I was now, who I had become, left my cheeks burning with shame. It was humiliating.
It took all the strength I had to pry my eyes away from her and look at my father. “Dad,” I said.
His face was scarlet as he walked up to me, drew his hand back, and slapped me hard across the face.
Shit.
So he was still pissed off at me. I'd been expecting that. Hell, if June hadn't been standing right there, he'd have probably slugged me. And I'd have deserved it, after everything I'd put him through.
“I told you, you don’t come back here. You don’t bring this shit here.”
I could feel June’s eyes burning into me, without even looking at her. “Dad, I -”