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Blair whispers, “Sometimes, I wish Beau was normal, so we could play together. But he just wants to do his own thing.”
“I know, and he’s too little to do most fun stuff with you,” I say and take her hand before tugging her down the hall to her bedroom. “Rosemary’s always offering to help. Silas said he’ll hire someone to come around to watch the little ones. That way, I’ll get more one-on-one time with each of you. I bet you and I could do a lot of fun stuff. You know, until you find a friend your own age.”
“I’ll still want to be with you,” she says as I climb on her bed and pat the mattress.
“I know, but you need kids your own age. I won’t be any fun for a whole bunch of stuff. It would be cool if we could both have friends. You can do young stuff and I can do old-lady stuff,” I suggest, and she snickers at that last part. “Then, we could hang out and talk about the fun stuff we did with other people.”
“Making friends is hard.”
“I know, but I thought most men were like your dad. Except Silas is different. I also thought no one would want to be friends with me. Maybe I’m wrong about that, too. But I do know you’ll make new friends in McMurdo Valley. I feel that truth down deep.”
Blair cuddles with me in her room and lets her mind settle around these new opportunities. They can’t erase what happened with Neal or those bratty friends or a long list of other crap. Such pain never disappears. They’re like the scars on Silas’s body. However, the pain can fade and fall into the background.
With Silas’s help and a lot of therapy, I can imagine being my best self. I’ll make good choices rather than rash ones. I might become the person younger me dreamed I could be.
But even if I’m never much better than I am right this moment, I’m sure Blair can flourish with a few good breaks in life.
SILAS
My second full eveningwith Landry and the kids feels golden. Rather than talking about such dark crap in bed, she shares her love for garbage TV. I admit I like stupid comedies where people fall down a lot. After a great day together, I’m looking forward to spending another one at home.
Instead, I wake up to a message from Ruin, calling for a mandatory meeting at the Pigsty that afternoon.
Though leaving Landry and the kids doesn’t interest me, Woodrow promises they’ll be fine. Rosemary plans to paint with the kids today. I also think she wants to spend a little quality time with Landry. I’m hoping they’ll become friends. All that might happen easier if I’m not around.
Though I really have no reason to pitch a fit over a few hours with my club, I still sulk while riding my black Fat Boy Harley away from the house.
Shit’s changed a lot over the last few decades. When the Steel Berserkers Motorcycle Club was still in its infancy, we hid in the woods for weeks, ate cold food, and slept on the hard ground. The only thing keeping me sane was chilling with my friends and knowing I’d get to hack our enemies to death.
Back then, the Jordan family was in charge of McMurdo Valley. Unlike the scrawny shits who helped move Landry’s stuff, their fathers and uncles were big motherfuckers. They’d gotten fat off the easy life their family stole from the last assholes who ran things.
Our club worked for the Jordans, unleashing violence against not always evil people. Back then, I was ready to bail on the Valley. Playing feral errand boy for the Jordans seemed like a waste of time. The money wasn’t great. The Jordans pissed me off, and I wasn’t allowed to pound on them.
Always scheming for more, Ruin promised shit would get better. His dad and uncle—Ed Macready and Glenn Childs—were life-long thugs in the Valley. They worked for the Jordans and the assholes before them. Ruin understood the value in patience.
He was also always the golden child, living an easier life than most of us. His mom was a dipshit, but his dad wasn’t bad. Ruin had those pretty boy looks that fixed a lot of his problems. I started thinking he would end up marrying one of the Jordan bitches and become our boss. We were following him into a lifetime of shitty pay, working for people who would step over our corpses to get ahead.
