It belonged to Preacher, his Road Captain father, when he and Ruby, his blood aunt, had adopted him. Seb, only four, had fragmented memories, but always knew his birth father, imprisoned for murdering his mother, was rotting in jail.
He felt like a Priest. It was as if he were born to be a Renegade Soul.
That’s all he’d ever dreamed of since Preacher first brought him to the clubhouse. And he’d known Sunny from birth, even sooner, while she was still in Gia’s belly.
Their connection ran deep, and with little thought, he’d kill any motherfucker who laid a hand on Sunny. With unhinged actions, he’d slaughter them in cold blood.
Being on the receiving end of her hate now, when she’d loved him her whole life, didn’t alter that fact.
He’d been her best friend, her Seb.
And she’d been his little buddy. His sunbeam.
And then it changed. Strain putting fractures in their relationship. And then it became worse.
And now it was this awkward silence with the tension so fucking thick in the truck; Seb wanted to strangle himself, to make it right between them again.
If he thought it would help, he’d do it.
But she was stubborn.
More stubborn than any other woman he knew.
“Aren’t you gonna ask what’s happening back home?” he finally broke the silence after driving for a while. He was on a clear stretch of road, so he switched his gaze to Sunny, who was staring out the window.
“I’m sure my parents will let me know.”
That was over three words, and a smile kicked up one side of his mouth.
“I could tell you if you wanted to know. Just ask me,” he coaxed, willing Sunny to start a conversation. Any fucking conversation. He’d talk about makeup or whatever TV drama had her in a chokehold lately.
Her secrets were no mystery to him. Or until recently, they weren’t. She could have made a thousand more since then, and a burning sensation went through his belly.
But then, he felt better, happy to have secrets of his own that would really freak her out.
A minute went by with no response.
“Sunny, are you ever gonna talk to me?” he asked, feeling his nerves pulled tight at the edges.
Though the danger was minimal, he’d driven like a madman; he still didn’t feel at ease until he could put his eyes on her. The elation had filled his belly like helium when he’d seen her sitting in the airport lounge.
She was safe. Unharmed. And his sunbeam.
Another sigh came from across the cab, and she turned her body toward the window, her arms around her chest. If he were a body language expert, that action would speak volumes to Seb.
“I’m tired. I might nap unless you need me to drive.”
Seb scowled. “No, I don’t need you to drive.”
An hour later, her eyes were still shut, but she was far from sleeping. The little brat was avoiding him, shutting Seb out, and disassociating from him.
He might be a grease monkey, but he also knew a thing or two about psychology. As the old ladies would say, he was in touch with his emotions.
Seb and his boys weren’t like the previous generation—his father and brothers. He could talk about his feelings or cry without feeling like his man card was threatened.
Most of those private conversations had been with her, though now she was giving the impression she’d rather travel by pigeon than with him.
But she couldn’t avoid him forever. And then he smiled as an idea came to him.
