Major rolled his eyes. “You have to stop asking that. You know she’ll keep makin’ ’em. And I have health issues.”
“You do not.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re one of the healthiest men I know.”
And he was, too. He was the most in shape fifty-year-old man I’d met in my life. And that was saying something since I was in prison with a lot of in-shape fifty-year-old men.
“Gotta keep myself in good shape because my woman has needs,” he joked.
Denver gagged.
“Fuck off.”
Sorcha was also Denver’s sister, though they weren’t close in age. Sorcha was ten years older than Denver, even though she didn’t look it.
“Have a nice night, gentlemen,” Boone called. “I’m going to eat.”
Denver and I followed him out the door while Major stayed back and called his wife to let her know he was on the way home.
We arrived at Hopps just behind a group that I knew well.
I walked up to Vito once we got inside and slapped him on the back. “Hey, man.”
Vito grinned. “Hey. I see you got the cut finally.”
“I did.” I studied his family. “Where did Birdee end up going?”
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Which was fucking insane, seeing as I was the worst possible person she could let into her life.
Well, maybe one of the seven worst she could let into her life. Escaped convicts weren’t something you played around with—even if she didn’t know I was an escaped convict.
Mable frowned. “Birdee’s gone?”
I don’t know why that particular question coming from her “sister’s” mouth pissed me off so badly, but it did.
My brows rose. “You didn’t know?”
“Why would we?” Cody asked. “She doesn’t tell us anything about her life.”
Because you don’t fucking ask.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged as I looked over at Vito and Grace. “I guess I just assumed that since you were her sister, Mable, and you were her father, Vito, that you would know what happened in your sister’s and daughter’s life. Guess I was wrong.”
I left them standing there after that, fuming.
I hated how they didn’t care about her.
I hated even more that I did.
When I got to the bar, I ordered a drink and downed half of it before turning to find out where Denver and Boone ended up.
I found them near the corner where we usually sat—there were several booths in the back with a view of the mountains that were always kept open for the club members—and headed that way.
“What the hell was that about?” Denver asked.
I gritted my teeth, unsure what to say.
“Nothing,” I lied.
