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Although I can’t recall any of these in detail, I do remember my dad saying he thought I’d grow up to be a lawyer like him since I seemed so fond of contracts.
It couldn’t be further from the truth.
I continue to flip, seeing the worst drawing of a three-headed dog, the words Cerberus MC written under it. I can tell I attempted to draw the insignia of the organization Emmett and Vaughn spoke of often, the evidence on the pages rather than a genuine memory in my head.
The next journal shows a family of three, both Vaughn and Emmett gone from our lives. The faces are no longer smiling, and instead of being stick figures, they’re wearing clothes.
I owe that to an episode of my favorite show growing up. The stylish middle school girls held a fashion show for their school, and it began my obsession with clothes. Maybe I wanted my parents to see me the way their parents did. They were so supportive and always had smiles on their faces despite the shenanigans their daughters got up to.
I made good grades and stayed out of trouble. Although there were times they told me I did a good job, it was never done with enthusiasm. I know they love me in their own ways, but unfortunately, those ways were never bold and loud, and sometimes I needed that from them.
In high school, my grades slipped, and they didn’t seem to notice.
Instead of staying involved in school-sanctioned activities, I got a job, praying that they’d care more if I lessened their burden. The only thing they ever did to show they cared about me at all was leaving the porch light on the nights I had to work after dark.
Instead of continuing my trip down memory lane, I grab my phone and open one of my social media apps, typing in my brother’s name. I don’t do this often, but nothing has changed since the last time I did. I swipe in reverse chronological order, reading the posts I’ve read before. The last one was from a couple years ago, my deceased brother having been tagged in posts made by classmates as they shared memories from many years prior.
Vaughn was always smiling, always happy, always standing right beside his best friend.
My finger hovers over Emmett’s name. According to my parents, I’m supposed to hate the man who got my only brother killed. Logically, I know it wasn’t Emmett’s fault. He didn’t plant the bomb that took Vaughn’s life. Vaughn wasn’t forced or coerced into joining the Marine Corps. But there’s still that voice in the back of my head from my childhood that whispers that if Vaughn had never met Emmett, he’d still be around today. Those voices sound eerily like my mother. Although she hasn’t mentioned the man’s name in years out loud to me, I know she still blames Emmett for Vaughn’s death, as if he were the one to end it himself.
I press my finger against the man’s name, keeping my eyes closed as his page populates.
His posts are sporadic, the last one from over six months ago.
LEGACY is emblazoned on the patch adorning his crisp leather vest. His smile is wide, the corners of his eyes marked with a handful of wrinkles.
The post declares, Dreams do come true.
The location is marked as New Mexico. I know without having to do further research that he landed a job with Cerberus MC, making his and Vaughn’s wishes come true.
That bitterness that belongs solely to my parents once again threatens to seep inside of me, and I have to exit the app to keep it from swallowing me whole. I told myself years ago that I wouldn’t let that toxicity take over my life. I deserved more than what I got from my parents. That’s on them, not on Emmett Wilson.
Chapter 2
Legacy
“Nervous?” Grinch asks, a knowing look in his eyes as he adjusts one of the straps on his bullet-resistant vest.
“No,” I lie as I recheck the handgun on my hip to make sure it’s in full working order for the fifth time since I holstered it.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” my team lead says. “I was nervous my first time out.”
“This isn’t my first time out,” I remind him.
“It’s your first time out with Cerberus,” he challenges.
“I went to Lindell with the team,” I tell him.
“That isn’t exactly the same thing,” Grinch says.
I frown at the man. “Are you purposely trying to psych me out or something?”
“I just need your head on your shoulders and your mind in the right place.”
I’ve been a member of the Cerberus MC for seven months. Shortly after we arrived, one of the guys who came in with me was drugged, and what ensued was utter fucking chaos. There was an accusation that one of the other Cerberus members was involved with the murder of a local woman, only for it to be discovered there was a serial killer on the loose. Bishop was drugged too and ended up in a fucking coma.
