He moves over me, inside of me, and I’m lost to everything that is completely Dean O’Neal.
The sun dips lower as the day comes to a close, casting this golden glow over the clubhouse and surrounding lot. Laughter echoes around us blending with the classic rock and motorcycles coming and going.
Sara wasn’t kidding. The Hellions don’t do small gatherings. We are at the clubhouse for a barbecue. I made some potato salad, but I don’t think I made enough looking at the cars and bikes. She told me it’s going to be loud, crowded, and full of food. Hopefully someone else made potato salad too.
When Dean asked me to come, I was excited especially because he asked if Justice would be comfortable first. Knowing how much Sara loves these things I said sure.
Here we are.
The lot is packed and spilling over across the street to Honey’s Hot Rod’s which is where we are parked. We walk over to the compound. Once behind the gates there are grills smoking, men and women standing around while kids run wild everywhere. Classic rock music plays from speakers that I can’t seem to locate. They are loud but not obnoxiously so that I can’t think or have a conversation.
I watch Dean as he confidently interacts with everyone. The pride he carries himself with here is different. I can’t explain it. Somehow, he knows he is wanted, accepted here, maybe that is it.
Justice tugs at my hand and looks to Dean, “they have a bounce house!”
Dean smiles at my son, “told you this would be fun.”
“It gets better every time we come!” Justice says taking off to go bounce.
This isn’t the first time I’ve stopped at the clubhouse with Dean, but it is our first barbecue.
“You good?” Dean asks me giving my hand a squeeze.
“You expect me not to be?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, but it’s a crowd of people, loud. It can sometimes be overload.”
“You with me?” I challenge knowing the answer.
He smirks, “all day, every day I can be.”
“Then I am more than good.”
He leans over pressing a soft kiss to my temple.
Casual, understated, but it all means the world.
We stroll the area until Sara grabs me and pulls me away to meet the other ol’ ladies. They seem to embrace me. I find myself laughing at some of the stories about the brothers. As I glance at my son not one moment has a smile left his face.
Sara is mid-story, animatedly sharing a night with Honey and some others that has her still refusing to drink tequila just as Honey approaches. Her expression is gentle but serious. She’s an enigma I’m learning. A woman who commands attention without trying, with her wild brown waves and piercing vibrant eyes that seem to see straight through everyone, including me.
“Josie, can we chat a sec?” Honey’s voice is smooth but firm letting me know this isn’t exactly an optional conversation.
I nod, offering an apologetic smile to Sara before following Honey toward the quieter side of the lot.
“I like you,” Honey starts, crossing her arms while studying me. “I see the way Raff is with you and your son. I like that too.”
“Um,” I mutter unsure what to say.
Her eyes soften, “and that is why it’s important for me to get this off my chest.” She takes a deep breath as if deciding how blunt to be with me. “Raff’s a good man. Solid in ways I’m not sure you know. He’s seen more than his share of shit. Ate more shit than most and still standing strong in his own values. He doesn’t let people in easy. When he does, it’s all in. There is no one foot in and one foot out with him. He doesn’t know how. When someone matters, they matter until the end of time to him.”
My chest tightens as her tone makes me uneasy. “I know his story. I’m not playing games with him if that’s what you think.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She studies me further, “I see the ghosts in your eyes. We all have ‘em. Some call them skeletons but a bag of bones ain’t shit to the way a ghost haunts you. I need to know you’re ready for this. For him.”
My heart stalls. The truth is I don’t know if I’m ready for any of this. What I know is I want to try. She has no idea my ghost. Jonah’s memory clings to me. Brett only left scars that feel like they may never heal.
“I care about him,” I admit. “He’s been nothing but patient with me. I would like to think I’ve given him the same.”
