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Nodding, we hug one more time before I pull away. She skirts around me and heads to the kitchen while I walk out into the dining area to wait.
Thankfully, no other employees have come in yet, which means I can take my time looking over the place as I try to burn everything into my memory without them questioning me as to what I’m doing. The diner has been like a second home to me these past six years. I’m going to miss it, but I can’t risk staying in town. Preston would be able to easily track me down and then he’d force me to marry that Bruce guy so he can pay off his debts.
With a heavy sigh, I grab a coffee mug and help myself to the coffee so Peggy doesn’t have to get it. Coffee in hand, I walk over to a far booth that’s kind of hidden from view, slide in, and pull out my old laptop.
A friend of mine had to get a new one when this one crashed back in high school, and I asked if I could buy it off her. She gave it to me for free since her parents were going to buy a new one. It didn’t take long to fix it after doing a little research online at the library. I cleared out a couple of viruses that she had somehow gotten. The only thing that needed fixing on the inside was the fan, but after cleaning it, it worked fine since I’m usually not on it for very long periods of time anymore.
Accessing the Wi-Fi, I bring up an internet browser and search for ‘Steel Archangel’s MC, Forest Creek’. According to Mom’s journal, that’s the club my dad used to belong to.
Whenever I would ask about my dad over the years, Mom and Preston would never tell me his name or the name of the club he was in. Just that he wasn’t a good man and that he was in an MC. That his club was into drugs and human trafficking. Mom never corrected him, but the looks she gave him when he would go on his drunken rants about the MC always had me wondering if he was lying. Preston said my dad was killed in a drug bust not too long after I was born, but once again, the way Mom acted made me think it was also a lie. With the way he was talking, it almost seemed like he was jealous of my dad for some reason.
A few minutes later, Peggy comes back with a plate of sausage and egg biscuit, a couple pieces of bacon, some fruit, and a wrapped-up sandwich to go. Setting them down, she heads back to the counter and pulls a thermos off the sale rack before heading back into the kitchen. I shake my head at her but won’t turn down the coffee or the thermos. I’m sure whatever they’ll have at the bus stop will be absolutely terrible.
Turning my attention back to my laptop, my fingers freeze, poised over the keys as I stare at the club’s logo at the top of their webpage. Instead of reading about the club right away, I open a new tab and do a search for Jaxon Witlock.
A sigh of relief escapes me when I find out he’s still alive and that he still lives in Forest Creek, Wisconsin. Well... as long as it isn’t a different Jaxon Witlock, that is. Relief floods me that he isn’t that far away, just a little over an hour away, but I know it’ll take longer by bus.
Then my chest starts to burn as my anger grows. My dad didn’t die, and he’s been close this entire time. Why did Preston lie to me? What’s the reason behind his hate and anger? Is there bad blood between them? Why didn’t Mom tell me the truth? Or is she hiding something, too?
Pushing down my anger, I dig into my breakfast, go back to the other tab, and start reading about the club, soaking up all the information I can find. My brow creases the more I read. The club owns a lot of businesses in town, and they do a lot of poker and rally runs to help out the community. Though, I know the club could still be into illegal things. However, the more I read about them, the more I get the impression that they most likely aren’t into anything illegal.
My anger rises once again as proof of Preston’s lies is right in front of me in black and white. My chest tightens even more as the hurt of Mom’s betrayal hits even deeper. She never refuted what Preston said, but she could have at least told me my dad was still alive instead of believing I had no one else. My only other family were Mom’s parents, and they died back when I was twelve. Then again, I overheard Preston threatening her many times. Maybe my dad was one of the things he threatened her about. That he’d beat her or something worse. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s threatened her to get his way.
Shaking my head, I refocus back on the webpage. They don’t have their members listed by picture, but I can at least confirm my dad’s still in the club according to the roster. There are a few pictures that show some of the members during rallies or on poker runs, but none of the men look like my carbon copy. Thanks to a few pictures Mom had stuffed in her journals, I know I’m the spitting image of my dad. One even had a picture of him in his vest and his road name, as Mom called it, was stitched on the front. As long as he hasn’t left the club, then I should be able to find him there.
That is, if he’ll even talk to me. Preston said my dad didn’t want me—that he wanted Mom to get an abortion. When Mom told him she was pregnant, he kicked her out of his place and out of his life.
Futtenfarter...
It could just be another one of Preston’s lies, but if it’s true and he won’t talk to me, then I’ll move on to another town and start fresh there. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find some place that will pay me in cash again. I know I’ll have to get an apartment, so there will most likely be no hiding my name if Preston or this Bruce guy comes looking. If they do, then I’ll stay on the move.
Doing a quick google search of the town, I snap pictures of where the club is so I have a reference for later. My old,cheap phone won’t bring up maps very well anymore, so I’d rather be prepared just in case. I don’t want to bring too much attention to myself if I have to ask for directions. If I’m not going to stay in Forest Creek, the fewer people that can recognize me, the better.
Finishing my breakfast, I shut down my laptop and stow it, as well as my to go sandwich, before grabbing my bags and ducking into the bathroom. After doing my business, I pick up my dirty dishes from the booth and take them back into the kitchen.
“Thanks for breakfast, Peggy. I’ll ring myself up at the register.”
She waves me off as she thrusts one of the store thermos’ in my hands. “Don’t even think of paying for breakfast or that thermos. Consider it my ‘goodbye for now’ present. Top yourself off with coffee before you go. Travel safe, sweetie. Love you.”
After another hug and tearful goodbye, I fill the thermos with coffee and step out into the parking lot. With one more look at the diner, I head toward the bus station.
Thankfully, there’s a stop in Forest Creek, but the station is about three or so miles from the club. It’ll be a trek, but I don’t really have much of a choice. I’m not sure if I should trust an uber driver or not. I guess I’ll just see how things feel when I get there.
Twenty-five minutes later, I have my ticket for the 9 am bus to Forest Creek. Since I have some time to kill, I set my alarm for 8:30 am before pulling out a journal and pick up where I last left off.
My alarm startles me, and my phone falls on the tile. A curse slips past my lips before I can stop it. A little old lady sitting nearby gives me a disapproving look and I roll my eyes internally. Lady, even though I try not to, I can cuss if I want to. It’s my life.
Looking down at my phone, I wince as I bend down to pick it up, praying it isn’t broken worse than it is. A breath of relief escapes when there’s no new cracks in the screen and it doesn’t act slower than usual.
Slipping my phone in my pocket, I look around the terminal. There’s a fair amount of people here already. Nerves start to swirl in my belly as I try not to think about how full the bus might be. I’ve never been good with big crowds—I’m more of a loner than a social butterfly. Sliding my backpack over my shoulder, I pick up my duffle bag and head to the bathroom. I know there’s one on the bus, but I’d like to not have to use it right away, if at all possible.
As I step back out into the terminal after doing my business, I double check the board. My anxiety starts to increase for a few reasons when it says we’ll start loading in five minutes.
One reason being, is that I really hope I don’t get stuck sitting next to a chatterbox. Or the type of person you sometimes hear about that eats so many onions that their sweat practically reeks of onions. Two, is that I’m this much closer to meeting my dad for the first time. And three, I’m worried that he’ll shut me out after finding out who I am and refuse to help me, all because of what Mom did to him years ago. If he’d spend five minutes with me, he’d see I’m hardly anything like her and I don’t take after her look-wise except for my dark blue, almost sapphire eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I sit back down to wait. My fingers fidget with the zipper on my bag as I look around. There are a few families in the waiting area, but most look to be couples or traveling alone.
Something bumps my shoe, and I jump, startled. Looking down, I realize it’s just a little ball. Jeez, my nerves really are wrecked. Picking it up, I scan the crowd again, wondering whose it is. I get my answer a moment later when a little boy with adorable brown curls skids to a halt in front of me, and I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips.
