Home.There was a sharp sting to her heart, and she dropped her chin to her chest, remaining silent. His home wasn’t the same as hers. Cleo wasn’t exactly sure the timeline of her brother joining the Killcreek Drifters motorcycle club, and he didn’t talk about them often. But they were his family now. And Killcreek was his home.
“I bet they’ll be really excited to see you. Maybe throw you a welcome home party.”
I would.
Knox snorted. “Considering a few of us are getting out at the same time, they’ll probably do something.”
“That should be a lot of fun and something to look forward to.” Cleo always made a point of making positive conversation with him. She assumed prison was dreary and lonely. Not to mention dangerous. She just wanted to be the light in his dark world.
“Yeah but I got bigger priorities when I get home.”
“Like what?”
“Get a steak dinner, drink a beer, and” —He paused— “Come see you.”
Her chest tightened, and she clamped her lips. Her breathing got heavy, and she began to shake slightly. Her eyes welled with the idea of seeing him again. He was offering a gift and had no idea what it meant to Cleo.
“I-I’d…” Cleo’s voice cracked, and she drew in a breath, giving herself a few seconds to collect her thoughts. She and Knox were practically strangers. Blood siblings who hadn’t seen each other in years.I really want to see him.
“Cleo?” The concern in his tone was impossible to miss.
“I’d really like that.” She cleared her throat, trying to regain control of her emotions. “If you came to see me.”
“I will.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to make him promise. She didn’t. Nobody needed that type of pressure. Knox had his own life, own problems and issues. He had more important things to deal with than her miniscule needs.
The loud crash coming from the living room had Cleo jumping back against the headboard with her gaze trained on the door. It was locked, but it was only a momentary barrier. If he wanted to get in, he’d get in.He always does.
She cupped her hand over the receiver and whispered, “I’m sorry, Knox. I have to go now.”
“You okay?”
The loud footsteps pacing around sent a tremble through her body. It was like the beginning of a horror themed soundtrack. Just loud enough for the fear to slowly build. She rocked her body side to side, staring at the door. Some days the motion provided comfort.Not today.
“Cleo?”
She swallowed the knot in her throat and drew in a breath. It would take effort, a lot of it, to get through this lie.
“I’m okay.” Her voice didn’t hitch. It was for his benefit. She didn’t want Knox worrying about her.Or knowing the truth.“I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”
She wasn’t sure why she was repeating that statement. Maybe she hoped if he’d heard it enough times, he’d remember. But if not, it was okay. People made lots of promises, but not many followed through. Even if he never showed up, there was a small semblance of hope that he might. Most days, it was hope that kept her going.And he gave me that.
“Hang on. Need a favor.”
Really? From me?
She straightened, and without hesitation whispered, “Anything.”
There was a small stretch of silence, and she pressed her phone against her ear. Had he hung up?
“Start writing to Wraith again.”
Nothing could have surprised her more than this request. Wraith. Cleo had never met him, but since her reconnection with Knox, she’d heard a lot about him. Like her brother, Wraith was a member of the Killcreek Drifters MC and currently doing time in prison. Knox never mentioned what either of them were in for, and Cleo never asked. It felt intrusive, possibly offensive. She didn’t want to risk angering him in fear the calls would stop. For the last two years, they had been what kept her going.
When Knox had initially gotten incarcerated, their communication was limited to letters. Cleo had tried to make arrangements to visit, but without a car the commute was impossible. Shefigured the next best thing was to become his official pen pal. She’d started out small, sending him a short letter once a week. By week three, he’d responded. His scribblings were nothing more than chicken scratch and difficult to read, but Cleo spent hours dissecting the words until she fully understood what he was writing.
They were the highlights of her days, most of the time her weeks, and more often than not her months. Cleo didn’t have much to look forward to, but she had this. Letters from Knox. She sent more than she received, especially when it came to Wraith. She’d never heard back after a year and a half of faithfully writing to him twice a month.
