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“Can’t we just play a few friendly games of pool?” I offer.
Starla scowls. “You two are terrible guests of honor.”
Laughing, I accept the fresh drink Starla made me and turn back to the party. After having sat for a good amount of time, Gabe and I are ready to mingle again, and we rise.
While this party is different from the grand feasting events of Thanksgiving and Christmas, it has the same tight-knit feel that helped me appreciate the Devil’s Sons in the first place. I find I’m incredibly grateful for having gotten to know everyone here. This group, thisfamily, is so entirely themselves. Quirky, rowdy, and fully capable of doing dangerous and illicit acts, but all accepted and even appreciated for who they are individually.
They’re what helped me find myself. After a lifetime of trying to be what’s expected of me, quietly rebelling in ways I knew wouldn’t get me in terrible trouble, and wondering who I might be, given the choice. I think I’m finally finding out who I am.
At some point, Starla declares that it’s time for me and Gabriel to open our presents, and she plants us in front of the gift table before shoving a wrapped package in each of our hands.
When she plunks down on the floor beside me, pen and pad of paper in hand, I lean down and whisper, “What the hell are you doing?”
Starla rolls her eyes. “Have you never been to a bridal shower before?” she demands.
“Starla, I’m eighteen,” I point out. My old life consisted of fancy galas, birthday parties, some ragers, and a few college house parties.
Starla humphs. “You open, I write. Then it will be easy for you to write thank-you notes later.”
Right, thank-you notes. I’ve written those before…
Shaking my head, I do as she says, alternating with Gabe as we each open gifts from someone in the crowded room. In all, the gifts are sweet, fitting little tokens that will help us get started at our new home. Debbie and Jeremiah went all out and actually bought us a crockpot, while Knuckles got us explicit beer koozies with naked boobs standing out on one side and a girl’s ass on the other.
“Really, Knuckles?” I ask, raising the present.
“What? A little something for you and me,” he says with forced innocence.
His gift pairs well with Dallas’s magnetic bottle opener that can stick to the fridge.
It feels as though it takes an hour to get through all the gifts, and by the end, we have a small pile of treasures we’ll take with us to remind us of the people here. But the most significant gift comes at the very end, after all the presents are unwrapped, and Starla rises from her spot on the floor.
Mark stands as well, walking across the room to hand Gabriel an envelope.
“What’s this?” Gabriel asks, confused. We have already opened a gift from Mark and Starla.
Mark jerks his chin toward the unassuming paper. “Something from your parents.”
I glance at Gabriel's face to see how he might react, and I see a vulnerability there. Only for an instant before he locks down, regaining his masculine cool.
Sticking his finger under the fold, Gabriel breaks the seal and pulls out a card. It looks like a typical Hallmark-type card with “Here’s to a lifetime of happiness” scrawled across the front in fancy gold font. I lean in to read over his shoulder as he flips the card open, and maybe it’s my pregnancy hormones, but as soon as I start to read, tears sting the back of my eyes. It reads:
To Gabriel and Winter,
Your parents entrustedme with their last will and testament long before they knew what fate would befall them all those years ago. This small sum is what came from the house your parents bought and owned once the estate was sold. They asked that I keep your inheritance safe until the time you were ready to buy your own first home.
Mark
Simple,to the point, and yet so full of meaning, I can’t help but sniffle. Gabe’s arm rises over my head and wraps around my shoulders as he pulls me close, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. The cashier’s check for just over forty-five thousand dollars resting in the card’s fold means Gabe and I will have a good-sized down payment for a new home. Especially when we combine it with the savings Gabriel was planning to use. We just might be able to afford a house at this point.
All the money I might have inherited from my family fell into Dean and Athena’s hands as part of the Blackmoor trust, should a family meet its end, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to mind. Knowing everything my father did to earn that money, aware of how much contention it has brought to be a part of the Blackmoor family trust, I don’t want to bring any of my old life with me.
“Thank you, Mark,” Gabriel says, his tone gruff with emotion.
I nod, smiling through my tears at the rugged old biker.
He grins bashfully in response. “No need to thank me. I’m just the messenger.”
“I think this calls for a celebratory toast!” Dally shouts, lightening the mood as he raises his beer in the air. “To the happy couple, who can now officially get the fuck out of dodge!”
