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She holds out a hand, and I stop talking immediately. “Don't lie to me, honey. We both know there's something happening between you and my boys. That's none of my business, yeah? I'm just helping you out, throwing you a few tips I learned in my many years inside the club.”
“Yeah, okay. Thank you.” I swallow roughly, thankful that Hunter is wholly engrossed eating his chocolate ice cream cone. I don't even mind that it's dripping down his hand and landing in little chocolate splatters on his shoes. As long as he's not paying attention to this awkward conversation, I'm good.
She dips her chin in acknowledgement. “Of course, honey. Club life isn't for everyone. Our club is nothing like you see portrayed on TV or in the movies. But these girls? They don't want to be part of the club. They don't want to be a Reaper. They covet theideaof being on the back of a Reaper's bike. So they approach my boys at the grocery stores or the farmer's market. They one-up each other, climbing over friends to get to the imaginary finish line.”
“And what's that—the finish line? Being an old lady?” My nose scrunches up at the term. It never sounded appealing to me, but I know that it's different for them. The title is about respect.
She looks at me. “A family.”
24
EVANGELINE
“Is it activity time now, Eve?”Hunter asks, jumping down from the stool at the island. He twists to grab his plate and cup from lunch, and does this little hop-run to the sink.
“It sure is,” I answer, a smile on my face as I watch him carefully set both dishes in the sink.
He's so responsible, and he definitely acts older than his age. I've been around kids his age before, and they can be little vehicles of chaos.
Not that Hunter couldn't wreak a little havoc when the mood strikes, because at the end of the day, he is only five. But he just seems so much older than he is.
Dixie's laughter echoes in the kitchen as she scoots her stool back from the island counter. “I'm going to head home for a bit,” she says, brushing a few stray strands of her hair off her face. “I've got a few things to take care of before tomorrow.”
I straighten up and take a step toward her. “Do you need us to help you with anything?”
Dixie's eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles, shaking her head. “No, honey. Thank you though.” She opens her arms wide, beckoning her grandson over. “Come give Nan some love, Hunter.”
Without hesitation, Hunter runs around the island and throws his arms around Dixie's legs, smushing his smiling face a little.
Her hands fly to his back as she stumbles back a step from the force of Hunter's hug. She runs her hand through his hair. “Be good for Evangeline, yeah?”
He tilts his head up to look at her, an innocent smile pasted on his face. “I'm always good, Nan!”
Her fingers gently comb through his messy waves as she bends over, planting a loving kiss on the crown of his head. “I know you are, sweet boy.”
Hunter pulls away with a wide grin, and climbs onto his stool once more. He sits on his knees, bouncing a little bit like he can't contain his excitement. His bright eyes lock onto mine, eager and expectant.
“Alright, someone's excited,” I murmur with a chuckle.
An impulsive urge sweeps over me, and before I can second guess myself, I cross the kitchen and throw my arms around Dixie. She returns the embrace instantly, pulling me into her warm embrace. There's a small piece of me that feels that sweet pang of nostalgia, the too-hot spark of maternal affection.
God, when was the last time I was hugged like this?
I don't have to think about it, not really. There's only ever been one person who's hugged me like this before.
Nana Jo.
Cora and I hug all the time, but it's not the same. It's a sisterhood bond, one of mutual affection and respect. I can't explain it except to say that a maternal hug just feels different than any other kind.
And Dixie gives maternal hugs.
I sniff back the sudden thick taste of grief and pull back. I clear my throat and glance over her shoulder. “I don't know the proper thing to say to someone heading into surgery,” I murmur. “Best of luck? Sending positive vibes? Break a leg is theatre, I know that much,” I ramble with a nervous chuckle.
She squeezes my hand, a small smile playing with the corners of her lips. “Thank you, honey. Any of that is good, and I appreciate it. I'll be right as rain in a few days.”
I nod, feeling heat rising to my cheeks. I clear my throat and push down the swell of embarrassment for just hugging her like that. I reason with myself that it's a normal response to someone going into surgery. But there's a layer of awkwardness around my shoulders now.
“I'm sure you will. I'll make sure to send some cookies from today with Silas for you. I think you'll like them.”
