Her hand reaches out to touch Christina’s shoulder.
“I found out I was pregnant after returning to the US.” Swallowing thickly, she adds, “When we reconnected, I had the same concerns about living at an MC. I’m glad that I took a chance because now I’m living my best life with the man I love, and Katie gets to have her dad in her life.”
I interject without thinking, “That’s an amazing story. It should be part of the club’s archives. When Onyx told me that he manages all the club’s business and that they are all above board, it jogged old memories of my grandfather telling me something similar growing up.”
Queenie gets teary at the mention of my grandfather and murmurs, “He was a good man. Rock still talks about him all the time. When your grandfather passed, it left a big hole where his best friend used to be.”
I nod, trying not to get emotional. “I’m just glad I grew up around the club and your boys. Knowing them and trusting them made coming to stay here a lot easier.”
Breakfast continues, and I lose myself in the homeyness of it all. Tessa’s nursing her baby, Christina’s watching over her daughter as she tries to spoon cereal but gets half of it over herself and Queenie watches over them like a proud grandma. I could get used to this.
My eyes wander over to the other table where the club girls areeating their breakfast. I see Heaven, the bitchy club girl. I’ve been trying to avoid her. She’s sitting beside Silver. I don’t know much about her, only that whenever her name is mentioned, Onyx rolls his eyes.
Turning to Queenie, I ask, “So what’s Silver’s story? Everyone keeps saying how she’s changed. Was she trouble?”
Queenie’s spoon pauses halfway to her mouth. For a second, her eyes go distant—like she’s seeing something that happened long before my question. Then she snorts softly and sets the spoon down with a quiet clink.
“Trouble?” she repeats, like she’s tasting the word. “Honey, trouble’s a polite way to put it.”
Christina makes an interested sound, wiping a sticky piece of cereal off her daughter’s chin. Tessa’s gaze flicks up from her baby, curious too, like the whole table has leaned in without meaning to.
Queenie notices. “I’ll keep it short, I don’t want to bore Tessa and Christina with the story,” she says, though the way her mouth sets tells me she’s lying. Queenie doesn’t do short unless she has to and going by the looks on her daughters-in-law’s faces they certainly don’t mind hearing it again.
“Silver didn’t start out with us. She came over from Savage Legion. They’re an MC based in Salinas County.”
I blink. “Wait, Silver was with another club?”
“She was a club girl,” Queenie says, her voice brisk. “But she hung around them like she owned the place. Thought she did, I guess.”
At the far end of the room, Silver laughs at something Heaven says. It’s a quick sound, not warm. More like the kind of laugh you use when you’re trying to make yourself louder than the room. Attention seeking. I kind of feel sorry for her.
Queenie follows my gaze and her eyes narrow.
“Don’t look at her like she’s a lost puppy,” she mutters. “She’ll bite you just to prove she can.”
I raise my hands a little. “I’m not—I’m just trying to understand.”
Queenie studies me, then sighs. “Alright. You want the story, honey? You get the story. But you don’t go repeating it like gossip. That girl has earned every side-eye she gets.”
“I won’t,” I promise, and I mean it. Something about Queenie’s tone makes my spine straighten. This isn’t just curiosity to her. This is history. If I’m getting involved with Onyx and his family, then I want to know their stories.
I glance over at Tessa and Christina, if I’m totally honest then I’m a bit jealous of them. Seeing them with their kids hammers home that what Onyx and I have is fake.
Or at least not real. Yet. Maybe if I become part of this family then one day they’ll be my stories to tell our children…
My eyes flick again towards Silver. She’s leaning back in her chair, one silver boot hooked around the leg, her posture easy like she owns the room. Like she never did anything wrong in her life.
“So what changed?” I ask.
Queenie’s expression shifts—something dark passing behind her eyes. Not anger exactly. More like… memory.
“It wasn’t one thing,” she says. “It was a mess. And it involved my granddaughter.”
I raise my eyebrows at that. “I didn’t think you had any other grandkids.”
Queenie gives a short nod. “Yeah, but she’s not a kid anymore. She’s a woman with her own family.”
“What happened?” I ask. I keep my voice gentle because Queenie’s fingers have tightened around her mug.
