Damnable Grace
Page 93
“I’ve missed you,” he said and I clenched my eyes shut.
“Missed you too, kid,” I said hoarsely.
Zane pulled back his head and searched my face. “I don’t blame you,” he said. I had to turn my head from his gaze. “I know he was sick from the war. But I don’t blame you for anything you did. You tried to help him.”
“Fuck, kid.” I wiped my eyes with my forearm.
Zane stepped back, and I saw him looking at my cut. His watery eyes widened. “You’re in the Hangmen?” His eyes lit up.
“Yeah,” I replied, confused how he even knew who the fuck we were.
You’d think I’d just told the kid I was Jesus fucking Christ by his reaction. “I see them all the time riding through downtown.” He focused on my cut. “AK,” he read. “That’s your road name?”
I nodded, a smirk on my lips. “You like bikes?”
Zane put his hands in his pockets and nodded. He looked over his shoulder at my bike. “That’s yours?”
“Yeah.”
“Aunt Claire?” Zane asked. “Can I show Uncle X the garage?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling. I caught Phebe watching, her fucking heart breaking. I held out my hand and pulled her in to my side. “Zane, Phebe. Phebe, Zane. Phebe’s my old lady,” I said to my nephew.
Phebe shook his hand. “Very nice to meet you, Zane,” she said. “I have heard so much about you.”
“You have?” he asked in shock.
“Yes.” She smiled. “And I have seen many of your pictures too.”
I saw the kid about to fall apart again, so I put my hand on his shoulder. “The garage?”
Zane exhaled deeply, then led me around the back of the house. He opened the garage and flicked on a light. I didn’t make it through the doorway. I didn’t move a damn step when I recognized the bike that sat in the middle of the garage floor.
“Is that . . .?”
“Dad’s? Yeah,” Zane said. The word “Dad” hit me like a blow to the chest. He moved beside the old Harley Davidson Low Rider, more rust than anything now. Zane crouched down beside it and ran his hand gently over the seat. “Dad never cared much for it when he came back from Iraq. After they . . . died, Aunt Claire put it in storage with all their other stuff. She couldn’t look at anything until a year ago, and that’s when I saw it.” He stood. “She let me bring it home and work on it.”
“You work on bikes?” I asked, suddenly feeling Dev’s presence beside me. His kid liked bikes too. It was always the plan. Serve our country, drink beers and just fucking ride when we were home from tour. I always imagined Zane doing the same one day.
I wasn’t too far wrong.
“I love them.” He came over all shy. “I ain’t too good at them yet. Learning mostly off YouTube and shit like that, but I’m getting better . . . I think.”
“YouTube?” I shook my head. Zane laughed at my horrified reaction.
I stepped further into the garage and ran my hand over the bars of the bike, remembering Dev riding beside me, fucking free with the wind.
A good memory for once.
“You wanna learn from real mechanics? Bikers who know what the fuck they’re doing?”
Zane’s mouth dropped open. “You serious?”
“As a heart attack. My brothers know a thing or two about this shit.” I winked at him, and he burst out laughing.
“Yeah,” he answered quickly. He paused. “At the Hangmen compound?”
“’Course.”
“I ain’t able to ride bikes yet though. Aunt Claire says I’m not allowed until I’m older.”
“Fuck that shit. I’ll teach you,” I said, and Zane swallowed.
“Yeah?” he croaked.
“Yeah.”
He stared at me and I stared at him. “You look like him.” I said and my fucking heart cracked.
Zane bowed his head. “I miss him. I miss them both so fucking much,” he said, his voice breaking.
I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him in to my chest. “I fucking miss him too. Both of them.”
Zane didn’t say shit for ’bout thirty seconds, then said quietly, “And I miss you, X . . . so damn much.”
“Never again. Yeah?” I said and fought harder than ever before to not fall apart.
“You mean that?” He grabbed hold of my shirt like he was scared I would disappear.
“I swear it.”
“Good,” he said softly.
We stayed like that for a fucking age. And eventually, I could breathe. For the first time in years . . . I could breathe.
“You wanna come to a cookout soon? Stay for a few days? At the compound, then the lodge?”
Zane stepped back and wiped his eyes with his shirt. “With the Hangmen?”
“Yeah.” I laughed at the excitement on his face. “They’ll be there. Introduce you to my road brothers and best friends. Lil’ Ash too.”
“Lil’ Ash?”
“You’ll like him, kid. ’Bout your age. Likes bikes.”
“Cool,” Zane said, then fucking smiled.
“Yeah . . . cool.”
*****
Phebe
By the time we returned to the cabin, it was dark. AK and I had spent the evening with his nephew. He caught AK up on what he had missed—school, life events, plenty. I did not understand most of what they talked about, but I did not care. It was blessing enough to see him reunited with his nephew.
He was . . . happy.
“Saff staying with Li tonight?” AK asked as he closed our cabin’s door.
“Yes,” I replied and turned to stand at AK’s chest. I ran my hands down his cut, threading my hands underneath and pushing it off his shoulders. His breathing changed, his nostrils flaring under my touch.
“What’cha doing, Red?” he asked, his voice low.
I moved my hands to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his toned, muscled stomach. His tattoos stood bright against his olive skin. I pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.
Leaning forward, I peppered kisses across his chest, moving to lick around his nipple. AK hissed and pushed his fingers through my hair. “Red . . . you ain’t ready.”
“Missed you too, kid,” I said hoarsely.
Zane pulled back his head and searched my face. “I don’t blame you,” he said. I had to turn my head from his gaze. “I know he was sick from the war. But I don’t blame you for anything you did. You tried to help him.”
“Fuck, kid.” I wiped my eyes with my forearm.
Zane stepped back, and I saw him looking at my cut. His watery eyes widened. “You’re in the Hangmen?” His eyes lit up.
“Yeah,” I replied, confused how he even knew who the fuck we were.
You’d think I’d just told the kid I was Jesus fucking Christ by his reaction. “I see them all the time riding through downtown.” He focused on my cut. “AK,” he read. “That’s your road name?”
I nodded, a smirk on my lips. “You like bikes?”
Zane put his hands in his pockets and nodded. He looked over his shoulder at my bike. “That’s yours?”
“Yeah.”
“Aunt Claire?” Zane asked. “Can I show Uncle X the garage?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling. I caught Phebe watching, her fucking heart breaking. I held out my hand and pulled her in to my side. “Zane, Phebe. Phebe, Zane. Phebe’s my old lady,” I said to my nephew.
Phebe shook his hand. “Very nice to meet you, Zane,” she said. “I have heard so much about you.”
“You have?” he asked in shock.
“Yes.” She smiled. “And I have seen many of your pictures too.”
I saw the kid about to fall apart again, so I put my hand on his shoulder. “The garage?”
Zane exhaled deeply, then led me around the back of the house. He opened the garage and flicked on a light. I didn’t make it through the doorway. I didn’t move a damn step when I recognized the bike that sat in the middle of the garage floor.
“Is that . . .?”
“Dad’s? Yeah,” Zane said. The word “Dad” hit me like a blow to the chest. He moved beside the old Harley Davidson Low Rider, more rust than anything now. Zane crouched down beside it and ran his hand gently over the seat. “Dad never cared much for it when he came back from Iraq. After they . . . died, Aunt Claire put it in storage with all their other stuff. She couldn’t look at anything until a year ago, and that’s when I saw it.” He stood. “She let me bring it home and work on it.”
“You work on bikes?” I asked, suddenly feeling Dev’s presence beside me. His kid liked bikes too. It was always the plan. Serve our country, drink beers and just fucking ride when we were home from tour. I always imagined Zane doing the same one day.
I wasn’t too far wrong.
“I love them.” He came over all shy. “I ain’t too good at them yet. Learning mostly off YouTube and shit like that, but I’m getting better . . . I think.”
“YouTube?” I shook my head. Zane laughed at my horrified reaction.
I stepped further into the garage and ran my hand over the bars of the bike, remembering Dev riding beside me, fucking free with the wind.
A good memory for once.
“You wanna learn from real mechanics? Bikers who know what the fuck they’re doing?”
Zane’s mouth dropped open. “You serious?”
“As a heart attack. My brothers know a thing or two about this shit.” I winked at him, and he burst out laughing.
“Yeah,” he answered quickly. He paused. “At the Hangmen compound?”
“’Course.”
“I ain’t able to ride bikes yet though. Aunt Claire says I’m not allowed until I’m older.”
“Fuck that shit. I’ll teach you,” I said, and Zane swallowed.
“Yeah?” he croaked.
“Yeah.”
He stared at me and I stared at him. “You look like him.” I said and my fucking heart cracked.
Zane bowed his head. “I miss him. I miss them both so fucking much,” he said, his voice breaking.
I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him in to my chest. “I fucking miss him too. Both of them.”
Zane didn’t say shit for ’bout thirty seconds, then said quietly, “And I miss you, X . . . so damn much.”
“Never again. Yeah?” I said and fought harder than ever before to not fall apart.
“You mean that?” He grabbed hold of my shirt like he was scared I would disappear.
“I swear it.”
“Good,” he said softly.
We stayed like that for a fucking age. And eventually, I could breathe. For the first time in years . . . I could breathe.
“You wanna come to a cookout soon? Stay for a few days? At the compound, then the lodge?”
Zane stepped back and wiped his eyes with his shirt. “With the Hangmen?”
“Yeah.” I laughed at the excitement on his face. “They’ll be there. Introduce you to my road brothers and best friends. Lil’ Ash too.”
“Lil’ Ash?”
“You’ll like him, kid. ’Bout your age. Likes bikes.”
“Cool,” Zane said, then fucking smiled.
“Yeah . . . cool.”
*****
Phebe
By the time we returned to the cabin, it was dark. AK and I had spent the evening with his nephew. He caught AK up on what he had missed—school, life events, plenty. I did not understand most of what they talked about, but I did not care. It was blessing enough to see him reunited with his nephew.
He was . . . happy.
“Saff staying with Li tonight?” AK asked as he closed our cabin’s door.
“Yes,” I replied and turned to stand at AK’s chest. I ran my hands down his cut, threading my hands underneath and pushing it off his shoulders. His breathing changed, his nostrils flaring under my touch.
“What’cha doing, Red?” he asked, his voice low.
I moved my hands to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his toned, muscled stomach. His tattoos stood bright against his olive skin. I pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.
Leaning forward, I peppered kisses across his chest, moving to lick around his nipple. AK hissed and pushed his fingers through my hair. “Red . . . you ain’t ready.”
