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“I’m not,” I try to lie, but fail miserably.
There’s something so comforting and cozy about Amelia. She’s the mother of the group, but there’s no judgement in her when she turns her caring aura on you.
I don’t remember a lot about my mother. How could I? She didn’t raise me. Around the time Chloe was allowed some freedom to leave the compound, in the hopes that she’d bring back recruits and always be on hand when required, the female children were separated from our parents and raised together. I don’t know why they did it and I don’t care to know. I was eight when it happened.
There were only a few women who were allowed access to us, and my mother wasn’t one of them. The only time I would see her was during services, but we weren’t allowed to sit with our families.
Over the years, I forgot what it means to have a mother’s love. I can’t even say with certainty if my birth mother loved me before we were secluded. It didn’t matter because I had my sisters to focus on. We stayed strong for each other while hoping for a way out we were sure would never come.
Now I have a lot more sisters and someone I look up to like a mom, even though Amelia is only 11 years older than me. She just has the right vibe and I’m grateful for it.
She makes a humming sound, her eyes glittering with amusement. “Are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with a certain mechanic who rescued you from the side of the road?” Her smile falters for a moment as she reaches out to grip my shoulder, her voice filling with regret, “I’m sorry none of us could come and get you.”
“No,” I wave off her words, “it’s fine. I knew everyone had been drinking which you should be able to do. I should have stayed the night there and helped with the kids.”
Amelia’s eyebrows pull together. “We always want you to stay, but not to help with the kids. We love you, Sarah.”
“I know,” I reassure her with a sheepish smile.
It’s true, I do know, but being around all my family at once can still be a lot. I’ve never been great with crowds, and I think I’d be the same way if I had grown up in a normal environment. I just don’t like it. Genesis thrives as the center of attention, always has, but not me. Never me.
“Now,” she claps her hands together excitedly, “tell me about the man who has you looking off into the distance all dreamy like.”
I snort out a laugh and can’t get it together at first. She’s so earnest and excited for me, but I know better. I’ve never been the one to attract a man’s attention, which I’m more than okay with. Even in the years I’ve been free, I haven’t dated anyone. I’ve shied away from men because I don’t know their intentions and I simply wasn’t interested.
I’m not sure if it’s normal, but I don’t really care. It’s who I am, and I accept it. No one has ever pushed me either, though I’m not sure if that’s because Ryder would go all over protected big brother or if they knew I simply wasn’t interested.
“Theo was nice,” I admit shyly.
Before she can say anything in response, Andrea, who oversees all the Banks businesses, walks into the playroom. The mischievousness in her eyes tells me she’s not just here to check up on her kiddos, all of whom are playing quietly, some together and some alone, throughout the slightly cramped room. Snacks help.
“Sarah,” Andrea says my name like she has a secret, “there’s someone at the shop counter to see you.”
My voice goes a little high and shrill, “Me? To see me?”
“Yup,” Andrea pops the p and wiggles her eyebrows at Amelia who covers her mouth to try and hide her laughter.
“Uh,” I stand up, feeling unsure, “okay.”
I turn toward Amelia, but she makes a shooing motion with her hand. “I came in here to give you a break and to check on you. Go right on ahead.”
I nod, my mouth suddenly dry at the thought of someone coming here to see me. As I head down the hallway, passing some offices the guys made sure to put in for their women when they renovated the space, Bailey walks out of one of them. She’s Walsh’s sister, but she’s also married to another tattoo artist, Dex.
She grins at me, her tone teasing, “Are you running away from the heathens?”
I giggle and shake my head, my brows pulling together. “Someone is here to see me.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, but I don’t feel any malice in her surprise. Itissurprising. People don’t come and see me. At least, no one who would wait for me at the shop reception desk.
“Well, I’m going to go and feed Astrid before she starts to get too fussy,” she lets me know with a big smile on her face.
Bailey and Dex’s eldest child is six and they were going to stick with one, but then she got pregnant with Astrid and that’s all there was to it. She’s now six months old and the family has loved having another little one around again. I have a feeling it’s going to start some baby fever, but then again, who knows how long it’ll be before Charlotte and Genesis end up pregnant.
The thought of my younger sister having a baby has jealousy rearing its ugly head. I’m ashamed of feeling that way. If she has kids, I will be happy for her, but being a mom and giving my kids love sounds like one of those dreams I wasn’t allowed to have growing up.
I walk through the doorway that connects Ellie’s photo studio side to the tattoo shop where most of the artists are in their workspaces with clients. As I try to slip toward the front of the shop without being noticed, Walsh, who is sketching instead of working on a client, looks up.
“What’s shakin’, Sarah?”
