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CHAPTER 1
LENNON
When I walk into my apartment in Phoenix, it feels like there’s a weight around my shoulders. I won’t be able to escape this city again. Not any time soon.
I was lucky when I left Seattle a few months ago because I wasn’t in Phoenix for more than a few hours when I got a phone call from Mayhem, the Prez of the Charlotte chapter of the DSMC. He needed a little help around the clubhouse, and I was more than willing to walk right back out the door and head his way.
Was it because I was a coward and wanted to avoid the reality of moving? You better fucking believe it. I’ve been avoiding this move since my mom met Albert and moved away from Seattle.
I don’t even have a rational reason for avoiding Phoenix like it’s the seventh ring of hell, but the thought of meeting my stepbrothers and leaving Seattle had dread churning my gut. As it is, I’ve only met Albert a few times when mom has come up to see me over the years. I missed my mom, of course, but we kept in touch.
I never begrudged her for finding her happiness. She deserved to find a man and be in love. Albert does love mom in the way she deserves. I won’t ever argue that, and I don’t hold it against her that she found her happily ever after. I’m happy for her.
Just because I’m happy for her and the life she’s built for herself in Phoenix, doesn’t mean I want to be a part of it. The uncomfortable buzzing under my skin has me on edge and it’s been impossible to ignore it from the moment I made plans to leave Charlotte. I’ve been avoiding this while building my life, on my own terms and outside of my mom, for a long time.
That never stopped her from pouring guilt on me and telling me how much she misses me every chance she gets. She wore me down and I couldn’t take it anymore. And now I don’t have anywhere else to run.
I’m really going to have to face the ready-made family my mom wants to drop me into. It’s the last thing I want to do.
I barely put my bag down inside the apartment when my phone starts ringing. I admit it’s a lovely place. My stepfather started a real estate business and even though it’s mostly commercial, they also deal with residential properties and have a few rentals they manage. I guess they’re all about diversification.
I should be grateful since this apartment is provided by my stepfather and his business, but it’s hard to push back the feelings of resentment because I’m even here. And now I can’t run away any longer.
It’s time to face what I’ve been running from—the happy family my mom has created for herself here which includes my three stepbrothers, all of whom work for their father.
Which is where I’ll be working as well in just a few days. Because they like to keep it all in the family just as much as they like to diversify, apparently.
The pit in my stomach grows and I know if I don’t answer my mom’s call then she’ll just keep at it. I take a deep, cleansing breath and force a smile on my face as I answer, “Hi, mom.”
I heard that when you smile it’s conveyed in your voice. I don’t know if there’s real science behind the concept, but it seems to have worked for me in the years since mom left Seattle for her life in Phoenix. Fake it ‘til you make it, or something. Right?
“Lennon,” she breathes out, the relief clear in her voice. “You’re back now, right?”
It’s not just relief in her voice, but there’s an edge to it. Don’t get me wrong, my mom is awesome, and a wonderful person who deserves to be happy. I just never fully understood why she’s been pushing me so hard to accept the new life and family she has now.
Wasn’t being relieved because she had found happiness enough?
“I am. I told you when my flight was and everything,” I barely keep the snark out of my voice like I haven’t already spoken to her this morning. I assured her I would be on the plane back to Phoenix. “I just walked into the apartment.”
I can’t call itmyapartment. Not yet. It doesn’t feel like home at all.
How is it possible I felt more at home while going from clubhouse to clubhouse for the Devil’s Saints MC than in this beautiful, fully furnished, and paid for place? It doesn’t make sense, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
I feel out of sorts here, like my skin is too tight on my body or something. It makes me want to run and hide. I know I won’t get away with it again. Honestly, I shouldn’t have been able to get away with it for the last few months.
Mom lets out an exasperated sigh, but her voice is soft and full of understanding, “I know you didn’t want to move here, honey, but I think it’ll be good for you. You can have a family now.” There’s a sadness in her voice that makes my heart clench, “The family I couldn’t give you for far too long after your father’s death.”
Tears burn the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. I learned a long time ago that tears can be seen as a weakness. Pushing back those emotions is a skill I honed after spending time with the DSMC, especially when I was around the club angels. I guess some of them thought I was an angel too, but I was more than that; I was family to most of the guys even if I had fun with them from time to time. It wasn’t the same type of arrangement the angels had.
Thinking about the dad I don’t remember hurts my heart. It always has. Mom loved him so much and they were so happy. Until he was killed in a car accident. I don’t remember anything about him.
Mom tried her best to be everything I needed as a parent. She took the time to be there for me, even when she worked her ass off to provide for us. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard to see my friends with their dads knowing I didn’t have the same.
I remember one year there was a Daddy-Daughter dance at school and while my mom took me with her head held high, I saw the way all the fathers doted on their daughters. I didn’t fully realize what I was missing out on until that night.
I remember wishing that I hadn’t gone at all. Then I wouldn’t have known, at least not then. Maybe it was better that way because it’s not like I could have avoided the truth of not having a father figure in my life forever. Mom did her best, even through her own grief, but I felt his loss too.
Living in her grief while putting me first is why I never begrudged her finding love again. She deserves it.
