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I placed my hand over my heart and rubbed at it. It sounded sad. My heart kind of hurt for this woman who was forced into a life she never wanted, and how it made her this ugly human.
“So when Mom showed up that day to tell you she was going away, why didn’t Josie just pass on the message and see this as her out and her way to move on?” I asked curiously, to which Ripley snorted.
“Because she wanted to make everyone’s life hell, and she wasn’t about to let him get away with meeting someone he might actually end up caring about, and being happy when she was already in this deep pit of hell and couldn’t see any way out.”
I didn’t like the woman—hell, I didn’t even know the damn woman—but for a moment, my heart actually felt for her, and I didn’t feel so angry. She’d been dealt a real shitty hand. One she couldn’t escape no matter how much she or Huntsman tried.
Following dreams was so important. So was being the person you wanted to be and making your own choices about life. Because if people really cared about you, they would support you no matter what you wanted to do, and they would love you anyway.
Which is why I was so lucky to have Ham. Yeah, things were going to be hard, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to stop me from following my heart, and that we would make it work. And I knew that for sure. Nothing could stop us now.
“It was all a fucking mess,” Huntsman carried on. “I hated it. She hated it. But we both thought that was just how it was fucking done.”
Ripley sat looking at the table, drawing in the condensation on the side of his bottle. Even with his harsh words about his mom, it was hard to feel anger and hate toward someone who was a part of you. And whether she was a bitch or not, she still fed him, bathed him, nurtured him, and whether it was the right way or not, that didn’t change.
“I’m really sorry things were like that,” I murmured. “I wish she’d been given a chance to make something more out of her life. It should never be like that. We should always be allowed to make our own choices.”
Huntsman nodded as I spoke.
“And that’s why Drake lives his life the way he does, and why Dad has never forced him to choose.”
I raised my eyebrow at Ripley. “Okay, and who is Drake?”
Huntsman chuckled. It was a sound I wasn’t sure I was ever going to get used to, given it was so rare, but every time I heard it, it felt strangely comforting. “Drake is your other brother. Ripley is the younger of the two.”
Oh, right! Another brother.
I’d spent the past two days trying to keep up with the number of club members coming and going.
“So where is Drake?” I asked curiously.
“He’s in China trying to secure a contract for a new building. The club owns a construction company. A big one. Drake prospected for the club, but essentially chose to run the company for the most part,” Ripley explained, surprising me.
“Wow,” I beamed. “So he’s a patched member, but he’s not?”
“We’ve learned over the years that you catch more bees with honey than with vinegar. Drake’s part of the club, but he decided to split his time with that taking precedent. And for us, it works well not to have to take business meetings or even have the companies we work with know that over half the employees of the company are club members.”
It was a smart move really. When you have a reputation like the Exiled Eight do, people tend to steer clear of anything to do with them businesswise because they’re seen as criminals. But with Drake taking the head man space, they had the benefit of a front man who looked the part and sounded like he knew his shit.
“I guess I won’t be meeting him on this visit then,” I noted, surprisingly disappointed. I couldn’t wait to meet him. To see if he was much different to these guys, or if he was really just a biker dressed in a suit.
I looked over, seeing the corner of Huntsman’s mouth curl upward. “Yeah, he’s away for a few weeks, but next time?”
The question almost sounded hopeful, and I couldn’t help but smile back at my father and nod. “Yeah, next time.”
“Meyah!” Dakota rushed over and swung her arms around my neck from behind. “The boys are going down to the strip. Let’s go out.”
I started to laugh, even more so when Huntsman started to shake his head like he was going to argue.
“I’ll go with them. Make sure they’re okay,” Ripley offered, and both Dakota and I froze for a second and looked over at him. He rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. “Look, I’ve never had a sister, and I kinda think you’re okay, all right? It’ll be nice to have someone else to keep this asshole on his toes.”
He poked his thumb at Huntsman who glared up at his youngest son. “Fine, but you fucking watch them like hawks, the lot of you.”
“You see her shoot that gun, pops?” Ripley grinned. “I think she can handle herself.”
“Uh… yeah, she can,” Dakota reiterated, pulling me from my chair.
“No boys,” Huntsman growled as he followed suit.
