“Yes, that sounds nice.” I’ve never had one, but Carly gets them done all the time, and I’ve always loved the look.
Millie works her magic, perfecting every strand and ensuring I look amazing before finally allowing me to glance in the mirror.
“Oh, wow!” My hair shines like it never has, but the face-framing layers are what capture my attention most. They flow with the contour of my face in ways I’ve never had before. “I love it so much.” Standing up, I wrap her in a hug as I thank her.
“You come in anytime, and I’ll get you taken care of, you hear?”
I give her one last hug, fully intending on taking her up on it. After paying and leaving her a nice tip, I run into Target to pick up the essentials I need and hopefully a couple of dresses for the summer.
“Logan?” At the soft tone, I turn away from a rack of sundresses to find Trista standing near a shirt display, appearing uncertain.
I’m hesitant to be too friendly with her, given how she’s treated me so far, so I keep it brief. “Uhm…hi…how are you?”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, tears welling in her eyes—the same shade of blue as my own. “Mom told me you were dead. That you died with Dad, and I was so damn sad. I never thought to ask more questions…to get proof.” That sounds terrible for her.
“I’m sorry you went through that.” And I truly am.
“I’ve spent so long grieving you that I never imagined a world where the possibility of you being alive was even plausible.” She shakes her head and takes a few hesitant steps forward. “I’d really like it if we could start over. If you could think about the possibility of forgiving me, I want us to have a relationship, but I’ll understand if I’ve ruined that from ever happening.”
She looks absolutely miserable, and I hate it, because aside from our recent reunion, I’ve dreamed of this moment. “I’ve already forgiven you,” I say and walk forward, drawing her into a tight hug. Her arms wrap around me, and she breaks down into heart-wrenching sobs.
I’m not sure how long we stand there, but some people watch us, wondering what’s going on.
“God, I’m such a mess,” Trista laughs at herself.
“Let me pay for this stuff, and then we can have a late lunch?”
She agrees, we link arms, and head to the registers.
As we leave, Trista leans her head against mine and whispers, “So, you and the boys, how’s that going?”
“Scary but a good kind of scary that makes me think we could be something special.” She nods her head in agreement.
“I’ve never seen them so protective over someone so quickly. And the way they look at you… Yeah, I think you’re their forever too.”
Lunch is peaceful and quiet, filled with stories of our childhood while we reminisce about the good times we had together, and for the first time in years, I feel like I have family again.
Chapter 21
Priest
I’m antsy but not sure why, and I fucking hate it. We spoke to Logan this afternoon, and everything seemed fine, so we’ve carried on with our day. Which has mostly included planning Ian and Connor’s deaths because they have not left the state as instructed. Chux’s prospect did report that Logan’s mom was hauling suitcases and boxes out of the house today. I hope it’s because she’s finally left the vile men in her life, for Logan’s sake.
Now, the prospects are sitting outside their hotel, watching, waiting for any movement, then will follow them until we catch up. Because this is ending. Now. Logan’s tormentors are no longer returning home to die; it’s happening here, and that means scouting out a new dumping spot, so the authorities look in the wrong direction.
“Hey, check this out.” Viking hands me his phone with an image of Logan and Trista smiling into the camera and a message written as “family healing”.
“Didn’t think I’d see that.” In all honesty, I didn’t foresee Trista coming back. The woman is stubborn as hell and has been since we met her.
Vik shrugs and puts his phone away as he accepts another beer from Amber behind the bar. “If it’s meaningful and not some fucking ploy, then I hope it works out for them both.”
“Boys!” The front door opens, and in walks Skinny Dick—Brute’s father—with his wife, Candy, on his arm. Pointing at us, he makes his way over. “I’ve got a job for the two of you.”
“What’s that?” Viking asks, turning on his stool. Dick might not be the president currently, but he was at one time and has earned our respect.
Taking a stool next to me, he accepts the beer from Amber and asks, “You two sober enough to drive?” We nod. “Good. There’s this little prick who tried to light up the tavern today, and I’m too old to be chasing punks down.” He slides a piece of paper to me with a name and address. “He lives there, and I’d like him dealt with tonight, before he can even think about doing it again.”
Viking slips from his seat and approaches Brute, who’s sitting with his son while Fin dances slowly with Axl. When he gestures my way, I chug the rest of my beer and follow him out the back.
