If only it were that simple.
“Enough! Stop hogging her. I’m the one who pushed her out of my body after hours and hours of painful labor,” Shell said, swatting Copper’s thick arms. “It’s my turn.”
Copper kissed the top of her head as he chuckled. “Can’t help it if I give better hugs.” The second he released her, Shell grabbed hold and yanked her into an equally strong embrace.
“Can’t argue with that,” she said as she hugged her daughter. “Nothing better than being in your dad’s arms.”
Beth held her mom just as tightly, inhaling the sweet scent of the vanilla lotion Shell had worn for as long as she could remember.
“Especially when I’m naked.”
Beth barked out a laugh. “God, Mom, I’ve been home for three seconds. Do I really need to hear that shit already?”
They both burst out laughing as Copper muttered something about dragging Shell to his office. Growing up around the club, Beth learned about the birds, bees, and entire animal kingdom at an early age. PDA was commonplace, as was raunchy humor, swearing, and innuendos. She’d never censored herself around her parents, and they didn’t hide much from her either.
“God, I missed you, my baby girl,” Shell whispered.
Tears sprang to Beth’s eyes. “Missed you too, Mom. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
Clearing her throat, Shell pulled back but kept her hands on Beth’s shoulders. “None of that. You’re here now. We’re not going to waste time on apologies.” She smiled, then ran her hands over Beth’s hair, ending by cupping Beth’s cheeks. “I’d almost forgotten how b-beautiful you are.” She blinked rapidly as though fighting tears.
Beth rolled her eyes as she fought to flinch from her mom’s hand on her sore cheek. Makeup did a fantastic job of concealing the redness, but it still stung when touched. “Mom, you’re ridiculous,” she said as she pulled her face back.
“You must be starving,” Shell said as Copper slung an arm across her mom’s shoulders, pulling her tightly against him, probably to save Beth from more of her motherly fussing.
“We got a shit ton of food cooking out back.”
“I can smell it. I’m starved.” She turned, wanting to share a look with Saint, maybe thank him properly now that they’darrived, but the space behind her was empty, and his bike was gone. “Oh. Where…” What the hell? Maybe he’d wandered past her while she’d been distracted by her parents. But where was his bike?
“Come on.” Copper pulled her to his other side, steering her and Shell toward the side of the clubhouse. “I’m fucking starved.”
“Yeah.” Beth glanced around, frowning as she let Copper guide her to where the rest of the club milled around, eating and drinking without Saint anywhere in sight. He couldn’t have vanished, so where the hell did he run off to?
“Oh, my fucking God, she really is here!” Maverick let out a whoop and charged her way from where he’d been hanging out with Zach at the grill. As a kid, he’d been her favorite ‘uncle.’ Covered from head to toe in tattoos, he’d been like a walking coloring book. Mav was loud, wild, inappropriate, and never-ending fun. He used to let her color over his tattoos with her markers, making them all various shades of pink and purple. Hours of her childhood consisted of redecorating his colorful arms and legs.
He plowed into her, whipping her off her feet into a twirl that had her laughing.
“Shit,” he said, panting. “That was easier when you were seven, and I was in my thirties.”
“Careful, old man, you don’t want to throw your back out. You won’t be able to do all those dirty things to Stephanie that you two freaks get up to.”
Mav threw back his head and laughed. “Shit, Cop, she really was raised by a feral bunch of bikers, wasn’t she?” He ruffled her hair like she was still a kid.
“Hey.” She swatted his hands. “Go bother someone else.”
“Good to have you back, kiddo.”
Kiddo.
They all used to call her that. As much as she’d hated it during her teen years, hearing the familiar nickname again nearly brought her to tears.
The next few hours followed a similar pattern. Beth managed to shovel a few bites into her mouth between hugs, hellos, and introductions. Everyone wanted to reminisce and welcome her home, which she appreciated.
But after two hours, she needed a break. Her back ached from days on a motorcycle, her cheeks ached from smiling, and the damn scarf around her neck was soaked with sweat, but couldn’t be removed because of the fucking bruises.
Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed the bruising, and the club appeared to buy her flimsy I’ve-been-too-stressed-and-busy excuse for her distance. After a lengthy chat with her mom, Izzy, Toni, and Stephanie, the women who’d played the most pivotal role in her upbringing, she’d needed a break. They’d rambled on about how proud they were of her, how they admired her independence and drive, and how happy she should be with the woman she’s become.
If they only knew.
