CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
For the second time, I find myself face-to-face with Charlotte’s best friend.
This time she doesn’t seem as amused by my presence.
“So, the bad boy is back, huh?” she asks, sweeping into the room, arms crossed over her chest, best-friend-does-not-approve frown firmly in place.
“That I am. How are you, Mercy?”
She narrows her eyes. “Fine.”
Charlotte smacks her friend’s arm. “Please stop.”
I curl a finger at Charlotte, urging her closer. “I have to go.” Placing my hands on either side of her face, I lean in and kiss her lips, not caring that her friend’s five feet away.
Charlotte’s resistance melts away and she sways, grabbing my arms for balance.
When we part, she’s pink from the neck up. “Thank you for a fantastic morning,” she whispers against my lips.
“You’re welcome.”
She slants a look at me through her lashes. “Sorry about this.”
“It’s fine. I want to see you later, though.”
She rolls her eyes. “Family dinner at my mother’s.”
My jaw tightens, wondering if Merlin attends family dinner. “Your brother gonna be there?”
“Yes. Always.”
I kiss her again. “Good. Call me if you need me.”
Her eyes widen as if the thought of needing me surprises her. Or that I want her to need me or, hell I don’t know.
Behind us, Mercy exhales a loud, annoyed breath.
Reluctantly, I take my hands off Charlotte, holding them high in the air. “I’m going. I’m going. Have fun today, ladies.”
“So,” Mercy says as soon as Marcel leaves. “It appears you’ve been dicknotized.”
“Dicknotized? What are you, twenty again?” I narrow my eyes at her. “I seem to remember you telling me to enjoy the ride,” I say over my shoulder, jogging to my bedroom for my cell phone and purse.
“Yeah, like a quickie here and there. Not sleepovers,” she calls out.
“You’re weird.”
She’s standing in the hallway when I emerge from the bedroom. “And you’re going to get your heart broken if you’re not careful.”
“Maybe.” Heartbreak might be inevitable. I already like him way too much. And that small, annoying voice inside says he’s too good to be true.
She glances at the door. “Ready?”
“Carter really wanted to go to Nibbles with us. Let me call him and see if he’s still coming.”
“Oh, good. I haven’t seen my little surrogate bro in forever.”
A smile flickers at the corners of my mouth. Mercy’s always treated Carter well. So well in fact that he harbored a ridiculous crush on her when he was a teenager. Something she skillfully avoided yet somehow never made him feel bad about.
Carter’s not answering his phone, so Mercy and I head over to Ironworks for more fatty goodness.
While Mercy’s waiting for her coffee, I snap a quick picture of my breakfast pocket and send it to Marcel.
See what you’re missing?
To my surprise, he responds almost right away.
Next weekend? We can get up earlier.
“Sleeping in” with you this morning was better.
I aim to please.
“Please tell me you’re not texting the dicknotizer already.” I’m so lost thinking about Marcel that Mercy’s voice startles me. My phone goes clattering to the table and I scowl at her.
“Stop saying that.”
“Right, you said he was better with his tongue.”
“No, I said he was good at everything with everything.”’
She rolls her eyes.
“What’s wrong with you today?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, lighten up.”
A heavy sigh eases out of her. “I’m worried. My dad said the Lost Kings are not a bunch of people you want to fuck with.”
“You told your dad about my boyfriend?”
Her eyes widen at my sharp tone. “Boyfriend. It’s worse than I thought,” she says with a sad laugh.
“Mercy?”
“I asked if he knew who they were without mentioning you.” She reaches across the table and takes my hands. “I don’t want you to fall in love with this guy and end up with a broken heart.”
“Too late.”
We don’t have formal weekend dinners at my mother’s but I try to stop by at least once a week. More to relieve Carter than out of desire to see my mother.
This week I’m more anxious than usual, worried my uncle might show up.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Jesus, Charlotte, you look like a tramp. What’s the matter with you?”
I’d chosen a coral tank top, loose, but not so loose it showed any side-boob. Even if it did, I wore a fitted turquoise tank underneath it. My ass cheeks were nowhere near hanging out of the bottom of my jean shorts. And since I never wear them to court, I finished the outfit with my favorite short, brown cowboy boots. It was hot out, so my hair was piled in a messy knot on my head. I thought I looked cute, stylish, age and weather appropriate.
I’d be stunned, maybe hurt by my mother’s greeting if this wasn’t the first time she’d called me a tramp.
“Good to see you too.”
She shoos me out of the way of the television and I continue down the hall to find my brother.
I knock three times and he yells for me to come in.
“When did you get here?” he asks.
“A few minutes ago. Mom declared I was trampy, so I’m ready to leave.”
He rolls his eyes. “Ignore her. She’s mad I wouldn’t run out and buy more gin.”
“Figures.”
The roar of at least one Harley engine outside makes me cringe. “You didn’t warn me Uncle Chuck was coming.”
“I didn’t know. Might not be him, anyway. She had some other shady guy here when I got home.”
“Great,” I mutter. I raise an eyebrow. “So you didn’t spend the night at Bianca’s?”
My brother actually blushes which is kind of adorable.
“I came home early this morning.”
“Charlotte! Carter!” my mother screeches from the living room.
I hate that being in this house makes me feel sixteen and helpless all over again. Hate that my little brother still lives here. Hate that I bother coming over when my mother really couldn’t care less whether she sees me.
“Well, the suspense is killing me. Come on.”
Carter huffs. “You should’ve brought Teller. That would spice things up.”
It honestly never occurred to me to subject him to this. “I’m not ready to scare him away yet.” I cock my head. “Is that your way of saying you approve?”
He lifts his shoulders. “Why do you care what I think?”
“Of course I care. You’re the only person whose opinion does matter to me.” We both listen at the bedroom door. “That’s definitely Chuck.”
“Surprise, surprise,” he grumbles. “You know he probably heard about her overnight guest and decided he needed to come piss a circle around the house.”
“Gross.”
“Char-Char! Come give your favorite uncle a hug,” Chuck calls out as soon as he sees me step out of Carter’s room.
He pulls me in for a full body embrace, which is rather icky, then holds me out at arm’s length. “Look how beautiful you are. Smart and pretty.”
“She looks like a streetwalker,” my mother mutters.
Chuck throws a hard look her way. “Shut the fuck up. Why the fuck would you say something like that to her?”
Surprised he’s bothering to stick up for me, my gaze pings to my mother, who also doesn’t seem to know how to respond. She pouts. “I was joking, lighten up.”
“Christ, you’re a bitch sometimes,” Chuck says, dismissing her. His gaze roams over me and suddenly I wish I had on a few more layers. “You look exactly like your mom when she was your age.” He glances down at my mother. “But classier.”
“Whatever,” my mother mumbles. “I was never that fat.”
“She wears it well.”
Jesus, am I ever creeped out.
Too creeped out to be insulted.
He pats my ass as I turn to walk into the kitchen and I want to scream.
“Dinner almost done?” I ask Carter who’d thrown the barest of greetings at my uncle before marching straight into the kitchen.
“Almost.”
“Need help?”
“Sure.”
“What are you making, anyway?”
“Barbecue brisket. I need her to eat something more substantial than booze, cigarette smoke, and air for a change.”
My heart squeezes. Not for my mother. She’s a grown woman who’s made her own shitty life choices. No, my heart hurts for my brother, who never stops trying.
Stepping up behind him, I squeeze his shoulder. “It smells amazing. I’m sure it will do the trick.”
His lips twitch. “Thanks. So, how was your weekend with—”
“Not now. Chuck’s already voiced some opinions and—”
He shakes his head. “Fucker. Why can’t he mind his own business?”
“Hey, I brought the rolls you wanted,” I blurt out to change the subject.
“Thanks. I ran to the store early to get everything, but forgot those.”
“No problem. You need money?”
“No, I don’t need your money. Go set the table.”
Uncle Chuck helps me set the table, which is beyond strange. “How you been, girlie?”
“Fine.”
“Work keeping you busy?”
“I have plenty to do, yes.”
“You ever do any criminal work?”
I give him a cool look. He knows damn well I don’t and why. “Not unless it’s related to one of my family court cases.”
Carter rescues me by calling me back into the kitchen. I help him bring everything to the table and then the four of us sit down for dinner.
“We’re having a party down at Back Lake Park, next weekend. You gonna make this one, Cindy?” my uncle asks with barely restrained annoyance.
“We’ll see how I’m feeling. You know I don’t take the heat well.”
“You’ll be there, right, Char? You can bring your boyfriend,” Chuck says without looking at me.
“Boyfriend? What boyfriend?” Mom asks, suddenly interested in my existence.
Chuck points his steak knife in my direction, which I can’t help feeling is some sort of psychological slip or bad omen or something. “Char here is datin’ a Lost King.”
“Charlotte,” Mom admonishes.
Not quite ready to discuss my love life at the dinner table, I mumble. “We’ve been hanging out here and there.”
“That the club in Empire?” Mom asks.
Chuck smirks. “That’s the one.”
“Their president is hot, Charlotte. Think you can introduce me?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s married,” I mutter, stabbing my fork into a piece of potato.
Chuck nods in agreement. “Was at their wedding. Pretty little thing. A bit uppity.”
Hope’s the last person I’d describe as uppity, but I’m not a knuckle-dragging mutant who pats his niece on the ass, so what do I know?
He reaches over and gives my mother’s arm an affectionate rub. “You’re a little out of date anyway, sweetheart.”
Should I be offended on my mother’s behalf? Probably. Since I know this is some sick, weird game the two of them play every time she hooks up with someone who isn’t him, I couldn’t care less.
I glance at Carter and almost ask if it’s time to leave yet. Except, he still lives here, so it seems mean. Instead, I bump him with my elbow. “This turned out really good.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, we shoulda sent you to cooking school instead of art college,” Chuck adds.
Technically, Chuck didn’t send my brother anywhere. I did. I made sure his financial aid forms were filled out and that he had what he needed to finish his two-year fine arts degree. I wanted him to continue, but Carter wasn’t willing to move away from our mother.
“How’s painting going, Carter?” Chuck asks.
“Fine. I have a few jobs lined up.” He turns to me. “Mercy’s father got me that mural at City Hall.”
“That’s amazing!” I throw my arms around him, and he shoves me away, embarrassed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
He lifts his shoulders. “I won’t start on it for a few weeks.”
“You still friends with that girl? Mercy?” Chuck asks.
“Had breakfast with her this morning.”
He nods slowly. “You can bring her to the party if you don’t want to bring your boyfriend.”
“I don’t think so.”
The rest of the dinner is just as awkward.
Chuck and my mother are busy doing who knows what on the couch when I give my brother a hug and slip out the back door.
“Where the fuck have you been lately?” Z bitches at me the next morning.
I tap out a quick text then slip my phone in my pocket. Haven’t heard from Charlotte since yesterday morning and I’m worried family dinner didn’t go well.
Z doesn’t tolerate being ignored. “Little bro, you listening?”
“I’m listening. The whole fuckin’ forest can hear your big mouth.”
“Ooo, look who woke up with his balls strapped on this morning,” Z taunts while grabbing his junk.
“Everyone leave their equipment in their pants, please,” Rock says, using his patient-not-ready-to-crack-skulls-yet voice.
Wrath snickers. “Focus, fuckers, today’s the only day I can do this.”
Turned out there was an issue with the foundation on Murphy’s house and some areas needed to be re-excavated before the concrete could be poured. Rather than wait and risk pushing off the concrete work, we decided to spend today getting the job done ourselves. Jasper, the general contractor, is a friend of Z’s and hired the guy who fucked up.
“I’ll get your money back,” Jasper promises, giving each of us a wary look.
“I just want it done right,” Murphy growls.
Z jumps up and down in place a few times, rubbing his hands together. “We got this, bro. Don’t worry. Never shoulda let someone else do it. Whatever we can do ourselves, we should.”
Murphy nods, but he’s more likely to gnaw off his own arm than ask for help.
Between the six of us, the work goes quickly. I’m still exhausted by the end of the day. Working out in the gym and manual labor in the summer heat are two very different things.
“Christ, I might call Violet and tell her I’m not coming in for PT tomorrow,” I mutter at the end of the day.
Z lifts his chin. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“We’re in good shape now,” Jasper assures us. He gives Murphy and Z a few other details.
“Makes you want to skip all this and put up a modular, doesn’t?” Wrath says, tapping my shoulder.
“I always liked the idea of restoring an old place better.”
“Yeah, you gonna find some old fixer-upper and drag it up here?”
Honestly, I’ve never thought about it. Been basically living at the clubhouse for years. Love it up here. Have all the land we need and no one bothers us.
“I’m fine where I am,” I assure him. “Hey, you gonna be able to help me place some new tree stands before deer season?”
“Anytime.”
I turn him and point toward one of the undisturbed parts of the club’s property. “Thinking of putting in a food plot that way and moving the stands there.”
“Okay. Just let me know when.” He makes a choking motion with his hands. “I’m going to kill one Tarzan style this year.”
“How? Swinging from a vine in your underwear?”
He bellows with laughter. “No, asshole. With my bare hands.”
“You’re a beast.”
I climb into the UTV to drive back to the clubhouse and before I pull away, Z jumps into the seat next to me.
“Christ, what do you want now?”
The vehicle bounces and I turn to find Murphy in the bed behind me. “I think we’re exceeding the weight limit now.”
“Fuck you. Just drive.”
“Go,” Z says, gesturing to the trail in front of us. “I think Rock and Wrath want to have a word with Jasper,” he mutters only loud enough for me to hear.
As soon as I put the vehicle in drive, Z starts harassing me. “So, where ya been lately, fucker?”
“Why you so worried about me?”
He reaches over and runs his knuckles over my head and I slap his hand away.
“Knock it off.”
Z screws his face into an imitation of a pout. “It’s so quiet next door.”
“Please. I’ve been gone a couple nights here and there.”
“Seeing someone?”
When I don’t answer, Z turns around and asks Murphy the same question.
“I don’t know,” Murphy answers, which makes me feel worse than it should.
“Bullshit. You two know every move the other makes.”
“Not true,” Murphy says.
Z chuckles, a dirty laugh. “Yeah, I guess T doesn’t want to know what moves you’re making on Heidi.”
“Shut up,” I snarl.
Murphy slaps my shoulder. “Drop me at Rock’s.”
“You’re not even coming back to the clubhouse with us for a bit?” Z asks.
“Not tonight.” He slaps both our hands before running up the front steps.
“You’re not going in to see Heidi?”
“Honestly, I need a shower and a fucking nap. I hurt everywhere.”
“Shoulda said something.”
“Didn’t feel it until we stopped.”
After parking the UTV outside the garage, I give Z a fist bump, then drag my ass upstairs.
Before leaving the rehab facility, I’d weaned myself off the pain medication I’d been taking. Still have a few around and I pop one before heading into the shower.
I can’t even shower without thinking about Charlotte.
Distracted, I finish quickly and dry off. Checking my phone shows she answered my text.
At the office all day.
At least I know she’s okay.