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“Don’t want coffee,” my brother slurred, grabbing the half-empty bottle of bourbon before stumbling up the stairs to his bedroom. Watching him disappear upstairs, I sighed, wanting so much to help him.
“Let him be, Enigma. He’s not ready to let go of the past yet.”
Turning, I saw Phoebe sitting at the other end of the bar, her hands wrapped around a teacup, looking at the tea leaves swirling in the cup. If I didn’t know any better, the woman looked like she’d been crying. I’d never seen Pheobe look so forlorn before.
It was actually heartbreaking in a way. For some reason, I felt compelled to fix whatever was broken.
It was a strange feeling and a confusing one.
As the youngest of Scribe’s sisters, Phoebe was gentle and soft-spoken, and technically, the normal one of the sisters. While all three of Scribe’s sisters were a bit strange, each in their own way, believing in the woo-woo, supernatural crap, Phoebe was more down-to-earth, only believing in tarot card reading.
Which in itself wasn’t that bad, but still weird in my book.
“What does his past have to do with his drinking?”
“Everything.” The pretty woman sighed. “His past is about to catch up with his present, and he will have to make a choice soon.”
“What choice?”
“To be the man he’s destined to be or to travel his path alone,” the woman whispered sadly, before slowly sliding off the stool at the end of the bar and walking away.
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked, watching her leave.
Talking to one of Scribe’s sisters was like talking to a rock. I could see it, feel it, even talk to it, but it made no fucking sense.
Shaking off the confusing conversation, I turned and stared in shock, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me.
Was I drunk too?
Maybe I needed glasses.
‘Cause any explanation was better than seeing what I was looking at.
“What the fuck?”
“No way.”
“Did hell freeze over?”
I was thinking the exact same thing when Banks, Hawk and Scribe walked over to the bar and movement on the stairs caught my attention.
“Mrs. Cohen?” my woman gasped while she slowly descended the stairs before coming to a complete stop. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Narrowing my eyes, I glared at the older woman, daring her to say anything snarky as she looked around the place, taking everything in.
Had to admit when I woke up this morning, never thought today would be the day that Martha fucking Cohen would walk into the Sons of Hell Motorcycle club.
Still, seeing her stand in the middle of the room, nervously, twirling her hands together, I prepared myself for anything, as Sugar stared at the most opinionated woman in Rosewood.
“Holy shit balls. It worked.”
“Told ya it would.”
Several sets of eyes turned as Benny and the mouth of the clubhouse made their presence known. If this situation weren’t so confusing, yet damn serious, I would have laughed at Cameron’s remark, but this was Martha fucking Cohen.
“Cameron,” Skylar grumbled, walking up behind the two boys. “What did I say about your… Oh wow.”
Yeah.
