Ayda
I know you said you’ve got this under control, but I can’t let you keep doing this. I’m going to make this better. I’m the man of the house and it’s time I started acting like it. If you find this, please don’t worry. I will be back soon.
Love you
T.
Man of the house? Where the hell had he even heard that before? I’d made sure he hadn’t had some misplaced misogynistic view of the world after our parents died.
Locking his window so he had no choice but to come to the front door, I hopped and skipped over the shit on his floor,before heading back to the living room and settling myself on the couch with a blanket to watch the television on quiet.
Dread was circling my heart like a vulture, my blood chilled as my eyes locked on the door and stayed there. Even if I did fall asleep, it would be the first thing I would see when I opened them. The chain would be more than enough to disturb me.
Time dragged. Every minute felt like ten, and every hour like four. I eventually went for a bath in an attempt to calm myself down, keeping the door sitting wide open so I could hear my kid brother’s endeavor to get into the house.
It was only when I woke with a start that I realized I’d been dozing. The flash of light that lit up the room as someone turned into our drive sent me to my feet. My body propelled toward the door with more impetus than I intended when I tripped over the blanket that was twisted around my legs. It was only when I fumbled with the lock that perturbation gripped me and I froze, my forehead slamming against the door.
What if it wasn’t Tate at all? What if it was Sutton coming to tell me that there had been an accident? What if it was our social worker coming to tell me what a shitty job I was doing and that my baby brother was going to stay in their custody? Just… What if?
Even with those thoughts, I had to know. I had to face what was on the other side of the door and deal with it. But first, I had to find my breath. Placing my hand on the cold steel, I gulped in as much oxygen as I could manage, my jawtightening to stop the quivering of my bottom lip. I had to get a grip and pull myself together.
“Come on, Ayda. Stop putting off the inevitable.”
It was after the next breath that I did just that and pulled the last barrier between the truth and me out of the way, blinking into the bright beam of headlights, forcing my forearm to rise and cover my eyes.
“Tate?” I asked, stepping forward onto our small porch, the screen door slapping closed behind me.
“I’m sorry, sis.”
The relief from hearing his voice made my shoulders sag, but it lasted only a second as I heard a voice that didn’t belong to him demanding his silence. It was about that time I realized I was half naked and barefoot. I backed toward the door, torn between running to my kid brother and retreating to the safety of my home. It was fight or flight. Having my vision taken by the blinding high beams did nothing to ease the consternation of the situation, but the maternal instinct that rose inside of me demanded I move toward the problem.
“What’s going on, T?”
I stumbled to the side, my arm coming up to meet the other as I attempted to escape the light pointed directly at me. Stubbing my toe on a pebble as I tripped from the porch, I cursed, pulling my foot up to my waist, only aware of how little I was wearing when I heard a shuffle.
The moment I was out of the beams, the scene unfolded from the tangle of dots that the residue of the lights had caused. Tate hadn’t come to me for a reason. Standing with him was a guy, one hand closed around the top of his arm with almost brutal force. The shadows were so deep around him, I couldn’t see much more than the fact he was tall and reallyfucking broad. He made Tate look small.
“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing with my brother?”
As he drew closer, his face came into focus more, the dots disappearing with every blink I took until I saw the narrowing of his eyes and the anger creased across his face. “Returning him to where he belongs, sweetheart. I think you misplaced him. I don’t take in strays. Especially ones who are trying to steal my fucking money.”
His voice was deep, gravelly and full of danger. Any other time, I’m pretty sure I would have backed down and walked away, but I couldn’t do either. He had his hands on my fifteen-year-old brother, and that maternal instinct that had been so strong hours earlier was now raging inside of me, clawing to get control and march over there.
As we circled slowly, I found myself delved into the shadows, which forced Tate, and the man with him, into the illumination of the headlights. There was no denying he was gorgeous in some rough and rugged way. The swelling on his face screamed trouble, even if his eyes were narrowed enough to give them the appearance of being closed. The leather vest he wore gave away his identity. He was part of the MC, and from the scowl he was now wearing, he was pissed.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded, my hands gripping the thin material on my waist, my discomfort shifting me from one leg to another. I knew I sounded less than intelligent, but the longer we stood there staring at one another, the angrier I became. This was my problem. Not his. “Just let him go. He’s a kid. I’m pretty sure you’re capable of having a conversation without manhandling someone. He’s home now. He’s not going anywhere.”
It was hard to miss the way the guy’s lips twitched to one side before he pushed the top of Tate’s back even harder, forcing his body to stumble forward and for my brother to lose his balance in front of the two of us. And it was obvious he found this whole thing amusing, even though his face was set like stone and his murderous eyes were aimed directly at me. “Manhandling him? This isn't manhandling him, blondie. Do you have any idea what I would normally do to someone I found crawling under my bed like a fucking rat?” The stranger took a step closer, his chin lowering farther to his chest as his voice dropped to a growl and all the humor fell from his face. “You’re lucky he’s able to feel his legs, let alone use them.”
My eyes flickered between the man and Tate. None of this made sense to me at all. What the hell would Tate have been doing under this guy’s bed?
There was no denying the threat this man issued was anything but an empty one. The leather, the tattoos, and the scars told me he wasn’t someone I wanted to piss off, yet, it didn’t stop me from running my mouth. After the day I’d had, I was sick to death of dealing with bullies, and I’d had enough of the bad luck that continued to plague us. The shit was no longer going to hit our fan. I was going to keep the thing polished and out of sight.
“Tate, explain so we can say goodbye to this…” I looked him up and down, the pool of words dwindling with each one that filtered through my mind. In the end I stayed polite. “Gentleman.”
Tate’s eyes widened, and for a moment, pride swelled in my chest as he looked between the stranger and me, seemingly unsure who was more pissed off with him. I would have hazarded a guess it was me, but the respect that flashed inhis eyes as he turned to the guy next to him made me mad enough to spit.
“Listen, man, please, just let me explain.”
