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5
Storm
Track and I headed to Casitas, the Mexican restaurant in Bastion, to meet Toby. The club managed its security. Maria, the wife of the owner, kept a booth reserved for the club’s exec members.
My leg bounced under the table as I waited for my old best friend to enter the restaurant. I wished I hadn’t cut him out of my life. Toby and I had been thick as thieves when we were young. We’d spent all our free time together, galavanting around town like we owned everything within the city limits. Those were some of the best years of my life—the good old days.
It had been the Hamilton family who mended the brokenness inside me. I felt worthless and unlovable after my mom abandoned me. What kind of mother leaves her child behind? I couldn’t get past the feeling I was why she left. My fuckin’ father never told me different.
I’d turned into a spoiled brat, being the only kid in the club. Everyone treated me like a little prince. My “uncles,” the members of the club, let me raise hell. They taught me how to fight, shoot a gun, and ride a motorcycle. They had said they were preparing me to become part of the Legion.
When I was old enough, they taught me all about sex. Fuck knows I’d seen and experienced a lot at the clubhouse with the club whores.
“Stop shaking your leg. People are starting to notice,” Track whispered.
I put my hand on my knee to stop it. “My nerves are going nuts.” I took a long pull of my beer, but it wouldn’t do shit to calm my racing heart.
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”
The bell on the entrance door rang as Toby entered. The asshole was dressed in gray slacks and a white button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Toby strutted in confidently, turning heads as if he were a goddamn celebrity.
I stood when our eyes connected. Toby’s blue depths raked over me with a cocky curl to his lip.
“Well, you grew into a scary and ugly motherfucker.” Toby reeled me in for a brotherly hug and slapped my back. “You look good, Kaleb. I’m damn happy to see you.”
Jesus, his genuine tone hit me like a ton of bricks, slamming onto my chest. This was how all the Hamiltons had treated me. Like I deserved love. I hadn’t realized until now how much I missed them. It made sense now how Madeline could calm the smoldering storm inside me... she was a Hamilton.
We pulled apart and slid into the booth.
“Beer?” I offered.
Toby clasped his hands on the table. “That’d be great.”
I raised my bottle, catching Maria’s attention. “Three.”
She nodded with a smile.
I hiked an eyebrow. “You look good, Mr. Businessman. Clean-shaven even.”
Toby laughed. “My job comes with a dress code. Much like your own, aye?”
I chuckled, tugging on the collar of my cut. “Standard uniform.” I jerked my chin toward Track. “This here is my road captain, Track.”
Toby shook Track’s hand. “Good to meet you.” He turned to me. “So the president of the club. Crazy shit. I remember you saying one day you’d be president.”
“Yeah. It didn’t go down quite as I planned. Several years back, my Uncle Matt lost his battle with cancer. I was voted in to take his place.”
A pained expression appeared on Toby’s face. “Damn, I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”
I nodded, a tightness forming in my throat. Maria brought the beers and we ordered our food. Toby talked a little about his job and how it took him around the world. I was proud of him. He’d always been the smarter one out of the two of us.
“Enough about me. Go ahead. Ask.” Toby took a pull of his beer. His demeanor changed as he narrowed his eyes. It was as if a dozen years hadn’t passed. Toby still knew when I had something to say.
I asked the one question burning on my tongue. “How is she?”
He set his bottle on the table and cocked his head. “Do you actually care?”
“Fuck,” I muttered. “Yes, I care.”
