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Uncle Leo tried to force me to go to the emergency room after my unfortunate interaction with Nick. I managed to convince him to stop and see our doctor on the way home, who confirmed my hand wasn’t broken, just a little bruised from the impact of Nick’s now not so pretty nose. All I needed was a lot of rest and ice, plus some painkillers which I’d already taken, and was ready to go and lay down and sleep through the rest of the day.
The doc even agreed that maybe a few boxing lessons wouldn’t go astray after Uncle Leo explained to him what had happened.
My mom, on the other hand, decided to head back to work with a kiss on my forehead and a lost looking gaze. Even though I was impressed with the way she stood up for me to Principal Lacky and Nick’s mom, I could still tell that she was angry. At me or the situation, I couldn’t tell, but I knew I was in for an ear full later that evening. I guess part of me understood why I’d punched a kid, but it definitely wasn’t the way we were raised to solve our problems.
It was the complete and utter opposite, but you know what? I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
I knew my mom would more than likely blame the club for my sudden act of rebellion and violence, despite the fact that she had cooled her anger toward them recently. She was even letting me hang out there a few afternoons a week and some weekends, especially when Hadley was helping me study for finals. I guess I couldn’t really argue the point, being at the club had had an impact on me. I felt like part of a big, strange, and slightly crazy family.
I had these women who were strong, beautiful, and loved so fiercely. They made me want to stand up and be strong and to demand the respect I deserved. And these men who treated their women with the utmost respect, who would kill to protect the people they loved. They set the bar for what I wanted, what I felt like I wanted in my life—someone who would stand at my back when I needed them.
Let’s face it, I hadn’t exactly had a great example of love and relationships at home.
My mom had always refused to tell my little brother, Denver, or me, about our dads. She wouldn’t even speak about them or acknowledge the fact that we even had them. Mom was pretty adamant they were nonexistent, and she didn’t know who they were. It wasn’t until I came to understand how children were made that I realized there was a guy out there who held half my genes.
Uncle Leo had made sure I always had an incredible male figure around to look to, but the truth was, the older I got, the more I felt like half of me was missing. I felt like there was so much about myself I didn’t know.
What was my culture? Did my dark colored hair come from my dad? Do I have grandparents out there? Cousins?
Oh God, siblings?
So many unanswered questions that a year or so ago wouldn’t have mattered, but now, I wanted answers. And honestly, I felt like every little girl at some point in their life just wanted their daddy.
I growled in frustration as I tried to hold my sketching pencil in my hand. Go figure that I would stand up for myself, and Nick would still find a way to ruin my life. I loved to draw, anything from real living things to patterns and cartoons. It as one thing I could do that didn’t scare the crap out of my mom or make her nervous. It was something she wouldn’t take away from me because she thought it was too dangerous or would lead me astray. And more importantly, it was something I could do on my own—which was how I spent most of my time.
Sketching calmed my mind, and it gave me satisfaction. I was creating something. I was expressing emotions. Sometimes my lines were hard and sharp, engulfed in flames. Other times they were soft, blended, and floating in the sky. It was a part of me, but right now when I needed it the most, I couldn’t even hold the pencil right.
Pursing my lips in frustration, I was about to get up and go in search of maybe some paints or something that might be easier to use with less pressure on my hand when I heard a hard hammering on the front door. A chill went down my spine as I climbed off the sofa tiptoeing toward the door. It could be one of the brothers. Leo did say he’d send someone around to check on me later today if he didn’t have time, but I’d already talked to Hadley and told her I was fine. I stepped into the foyer and jumped a foot in the air when the hammering started again.
“Meyah… open up!” His voice hit me with force in the chest, and I leaped back. I could see the outline of his body in the large floor-length frosted window. It was fuzzy and blurred, but I took notice of the way he was pacing back and forth, his heavy boots thumping against the porch. “Meyah, come on?” Ham asked again, this time his voice softer and less urgent.
I knew it was because he could see my body, too, like just having that view of me, whether blurred or not, was enough to ease his worry slightly.
Licking my lips and running my fingers through my hair, I stepped forward, not even completely sure I wanted to see him but curious as to why he was there. Ham made me nervous at the best of times. I couldn’t help but feel shy and unsure around him partly because of the times I’d seen him with a look of danger in his eyes, and partly because I was scared of just how that look excited my body.
I flicked the lock, the click echoing in the air. My hand didn’t even have time to grasp the handle before the door opened toward me forcing me to take a step back. My breath caught in my throat. No matter how strong I felt like I was getting, Ham always had this way of stealing my soul from my body when he entered a room.
I was defenseless against his presence which seemed stupid given that whenever we saw each other, we barely managed to have a conversation.
There was still something, though.
It swirled around us like a hurricane—beautiful, but with the ability to tear us to fucking shreds.
He took a step inside and softly closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving me, his head dipped low. “Hey,” he said as if that was all that was needed.
I frowned, trying my best to keep my voice steady and my emotions in check. “What are you doing here?”
Ham had never come to my house before. I’d spotted him the odd time or two sitting outside the school as I was getting on the bus. It was those times I knew there was something not so great going on with the club. Our paths often crossed when I was at the club, but since I walked in on him with a couple of the club girls in his lap, things had been more than tense between us.
I got it, he was older, he was a part of the club, and I was just a teenage girl with a crush. I knew that’s what he thought of me even though there were times when I caught a flash of something else, something deeper, but only when he thought I wasn’t looking.
The boys at the club drank, they had sex, they did stuff that I was pretty sure wasn’t legal. A lot of them were growing up having families and kids, so things were tame when they were around. But they were also bringing in new members, young prospects who took the opportunity whenever possible to let loose. They saw me as Leo’s niece, barely worth a passing glance, especially if you didn’t want a fist in your face.
I wasn’t a little girl anymore, though, not like I was when Ham and I first met. A year can do a lot to change someone, and I’d had time to grow up—not just mentally, but physically, too.
“I heard about what happened at school,” he replied as if it was obvious as to why he’d suddenly felt the need to show up at my house unannounced when he would usually do his best to avoid acknowledging my presence. I continued to stare at him confused and unsure of the strange tension settling around us. “I’m done with him thinking he can treat you, and other kids at school, like his fucking slaves. I should have done this shit a long time ago.”
I shook my head, the fact he wanted to protect me sent a cascade of warmth through my chest, but it was quickly cooled off by an unexpected icy blast. “What did you do?” My bubble of self confidence was popped, and I was suddenly very aware of the smear of blood across the back of Ham’s hand.
