“Oops,” Merci said, ducking her head with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”
“It’s not.” I glanced at Merrick. “I just haven’t had a chance to tell you. I’d like to find a place with a spare bedroom. For Jessa. When her mom passes—I mean, our mom—she’ll have no place to go. I don’t want the kid to end up in the system.”
Merrick nodded like he wasn’t surprised. “What about Eva’s oldplace? Reaper’s doing some renovations. They’re going to rent it out again, since Kenna moved in with me.”
“Fuck, yeah. That could work.”
I dialed Eva, and excitement colored her tone at the idea of another friend living in the house she’d bought at the start of the year when she’d moved to Texas. New carpet and a fresh coat of paint were all that stood between us. That, and figuring out how exactly a single biker could adopt his estranged teenage sister.
As I ended the call, Merci’s soft eyes met mine, and damn if that didn’t twist the knot tighter in my gut—her looking at me like I might actually pull this off. Like I might not fuck it up for once.
“Kenna and I are heading to New Mexico in the morning,” Merrick said, sliding off the barstool. “Serpent and Jag want to talk business, and Kenna’s become friends with their old lady. We’ll be gone a week tops.”
I nodded. “See if Scorpion will sell you his grenade launcher.”
Merrick chuckled. “How the fuck am I bringing back a grenade launcher on the back of my bike? And what would you even do with it?”
I shrugged. “Could look cool hanging on the wall of my new house.”
Merrick raised a brow. “I’m sure that would go over well when a social worker checks out your place to make sure Jessa’s safe with you.”
I huffed a laugh. “Valid point. I guess my grenade launcher days are over.”
Merrick glanced at Merci as she poured herself a drink at the bar, his voice quieting. “Keep an eye on her for me while I’m gone?”
As if I could take them off her.
* * *
The next morning, an offer to take Jessa out for breakfast led to a day of brother-and-sister bonding. Jessa’s wry sense of humor mirroredmy own. It caught me off guard at first, hearing my brand of sarcasm in her lighter, younger tone—like an echo from my past. And, while she’d grown up with a parent, it didn’t sound like her childhood had been much brighter than mine.
The second I noticed her toes peeking through the fabric of her tennis shoes, I announced I was taking her to the mall to make up for fifteen years of missed birthdays. She protested at first, saying she was fine and could buy what she needed with the money she earned at the diner. But the kid’s smile when she walked out in a new pair of hot-pink Nikes said everything.
After two pairs of new shoes, a backpack, and a few books, we made our way to the clothing section.
“I'm not buying you those,” I said as Jessa eyed a pair of shorts that showed way more skin than I was comfortable with.
“Come on,” she whined. “They’ll only look short because I’m tall, and that’s not my fault.”
“No way. They’re a gateway to teenage pregnancy.”
She rolled her eyes. The thought that she wasn’t used to anyone giving a damn what she wore burned a little.
She moved on to dresses, and I followed, carrying the bags.
“So, have you made a decision?” she asked, holding up a short dress.
I raised a brow in a challenge that askedDo you really want me to veto another outfit?
Jessa giggled, and I realized she was just fucking with me. She hung the dress on the rack and riffled through a pile of jeans to find her size.
“About what?” I asked.
“Seeing Mom. Before she’s, you know.” Jessa mimed a dramatic death face, hanging her tongue out.
I shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”
“Yeah, you made a decision? Or, yeah, you’ll see her?”
