Ava swivels, putting her back to Sadie, and I notice tears fill her eyes. She sucks it up, though, and as we all get busy setting the tables while the men cook, she explains Sadie has stage three breast cancer.
Goddamn.
Jamie is a font of information as we work. She tells me how Sadie is a maternal figure to most of Mayhem’s women, especially Ava and Tempest. They’re taking her diagnosis hard, and now it makes me feel like a protective older sister to them. Like, I want to comfort them, be there for them, because it’s what Kerri did for me when I was lonely in Brighton. It’s what friends do.
And speaking of friends…
We bring Kerri into our conversation, and Jamie catches us up on everything I missed while I was in Brighton. She gives us the details of Wraith’s abduction, and it’s gruesome. I’m also positive she left out critical information by the stilted way she’s speaking, especially with how open and animated she talks about everything else. The way she orchestrated his escape is impressive, no doubt, but I can’t say I’m thrilled she and Wraith used Jester to make each other jealous afterward. Not that she and Jester were an actual thing. They kissed. In front of Wraith. Awkward. It began and ended there. Now, she threatens to cut off his balls whenever he teases them about it.
This is the sort of shit that only happens in Mayhem.
God, how I missed this town.
By the time we finish setting the tables, management’s meeting ends. Jester and Wraith walk across the yard, and holy shit, they’re a force of nature, these two. Wraith is tremendous. Tall and broad. Yep, I pity Jamie when the time comes to push out his baby because Lord help her poor vag if her daughter is as large as her daddy.
Not that Jester doesn’t hold his own next to his best friend. But unlike Wraith, everything about my man drips sex. Wicked, filthy sex, with his low-slung white-and-red riding pants and his white tank top. If I live a thousand lifetimes, I won’t tire of tracing each line of every tattoo decorating his taut, suntanned flesh. And when the mountain breeze blows through his messy hair and he drags a hand through it to shove the soft, brown strands off his face, he sees me and gives me the cutest crooked grin.
What do I do?
Forget we’re surrounded by Unholy, and for the second time today, I make a scene. This time, I run over to Jester and wrap my arms around his waist. Crush my lips to his, and everything but us fades away. I melt against him and drown in his kiss. There are hoots and whistles around us, mingling with Wraith’s long-winded groan of exasperation. But I don’t care. I love this man, and we have seven years’ worth of kissing to make up for.
When we break apart, I slide my hand in his as we walk to join our little group over by Sadie. Havoc, Discord, and Malice are there now, too, doing the heavy lifting.
“Is everything worked out?” I ask before we reach our friends.
Jester nods. “For now.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“I’ll tell you everything when we’re home.” He squeezes my hand. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the day.”
I smile at him and wink. “Sounds like a plan.”
And it’s an easy one to follow. The Unholy know how to throw a party. There’s food for days, and it’s delicious. I get a few curious stares when I check my GB, but it’s nothing I’m not used to after all these years. It comes with the territory. Most folks discreetly stare when I give myself a shot.
Not this crowd. They openly watch.
No sooner do I stick myself in the left arm does a grizzled old man point at me with his fork. “Whatcha got going on there, darlin’? You good? Need anything?”
My heart. I can’t. A person would expect many reactions from these people, all of them negative or hostile. Instead, I get nothing but concern.
“Diabetes.” I hold up my injector pen. “It’s a pain in the ass, but I’m fine, thanks.”
He gives me a curt nod, his stringy brown hair falling over his weathered face. “You need anything, you let me know. We got you, girl. You remember that. You’re family now.”
“Thank you.”
But even as I say this, the words are strained, pushed out past a lump of emotion because this is what I haven’t felt since the day I lost my father. If I could bottle this moment and cherish it forever, I would.
“That’s Dirt,” Jester whispers to me. “He’s harmless.”
Harmless?No. One doesn’t become an Unholy without spilling a whole lot of blood—Jester included. And I’m okay with it because I understand the way of the world. It’s violent and chaotic, and to thrive, you need to be equally chaotic and violent.
“I love him already,” I whisper back at him as I repack my supplies.
Jester snorts out a laugh. “Hear that, Dirt? Faith loves you.”
I try to shush him, but Jester shakes his head. “Nah, Fizzle, it’s all good. Let me boost his ego. Dirt needs it.”
