Her hair is in a messy bun and a towel is swung over one shoulder. She reminds me of one of those fancy-restaurant chefs. She goes back to working at the stove. The place smells delicious. My mouth is already watering. “I know. I decided to leave early, seeing that I missed ya and all. I’m going to shower, and I’ll be right back.”
She has the table set and the food ready when I come back down. I waste no time before taking my first bite. The steak melts in my mouth like butter.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I ask her. “This is fucking fantastic.”
She shrugs. “I had a lot of free time as a kid. I didn’t have many friends. It was only me and my dad for a long time. So I taught myself to cook with the help of YouTube. My dad never cared, because I would have dinner ready—one less thing for him to worry about, and it kept me occupied. Even after Shannon and Austin came along, I still cooked. Shannon never wanted to, but I didn’t mind.”
She moans after putting a piece of meat in her mouth, and I wonder if I’ll make it through this dinner. I focus on asking more questions to distract myself. “What’s the story with your mom?”
She sets her fork down and her face blanches. “She left when I was five. Broke my dad’s heart. He loved her with everything he had, and when she left, something broke inside him. She never wanted children—like you, I guess.” She darts a glance at me. “You mentioned me wanting to go to college, but I don’t really think I want that. It wasn’t until I came here and felt what a real family was like that it hit me. I want to be a wife and a mother. I want to love my husband and kids with everything I am. I want them to know that they always have someone rooting for them and who will love them no matter what. That’s what I want to do. It probably sounds dumb to you, and maybe it’s unrealistic, but . . . ” She averts her eyes from me.
I cover her hands with mine. “It isn’t dumb at all. Your future husband and kids will be lucky to have you. Most families don’t have that. Mine sure didn’t. I think it’s part of why I don’t want kids. My dad was a piece of shit who beat us, and then my mom would try to protect us. When I was about eight and my sister two, my dad beat my mom so bad that she was put in thehospital. It took her a few weeks to come home. I vowed that he would never touch her again. He didn’t. She got sick after that, withcancer. She died the following year. You know what’s sad?” I take a long pull of my beer before continuing. I’ve never said these words out loud before, so I need some courage. “I was happy when she died. I loved my mom more than anything, but I was happy that she didn’t need to live in fear and pain anymore. I feel so much guilt about that. You remind me of her some. Strong, but still soft.”
She squeezes my hand, and I swallow a lump in my throat as memories hit me again and again.
“Things got bad with my dad after that. I would take the brunt of the beatings, because I didn’t want my sister to get hit. I wanted to take off, but I refused to leave my sister with that monster. I started trying to make money in any way that I could. Tried to save to get us both out. I was in and out of jail. I was headed down a dark path until the club.
“My dad beat my sister the last time I was locked up. In that moment, I knew I needed to clean up my act to keep her safe. The club found me about that time, made me promise to leave the petty crime behind. I was able to make some money and get my sister out of there. The day we left, I threatened that if I ever saw Dad near us again, I would kill him. And I would. I never wanted to bring a child into a world that could be that dark.”
The corner of Jessi’s mouth lifts, but she doesn’t push me, and I appreciate it more than she knows. So many women try to pry, or think that I’m broken and need fixing, but not Jessi.
I clear my throat. “Enough with all the dark shit. I have good news!”
She jumps up, her eyes glowing. “What is it?”
How she gets excited about the smallest things makes me want to wrap her into me. I hope she never loses her shine. “Let me clean up and I’ll tell you.”
“Jack, you can’t do that. Keep me in agony! Here, I’ll help you clean, so it’ll go faster.”
“Okay.” We work together, but I don’t shy away from the impulse to smack the dish towel against her perfect ass here and there. She squeals and swats at me but doesn’t complain.
It doesn’t take us long to finish up. I whirl back around after wiping the sink dry.
She’s bouncing on her toes, waiting for me to tell her.
“You are now the new front desk girl of the MC.”
She jumps up and down. “Are you serious? When do I start? What do I wear! Really. I’m so happy.”
I beam with pride at her.
She hops over to me, lifts herself onto her tippy toes, and using my shoulder as leverage, she plants a peck on my cheek, holding me a beat longer. “Thank you, Jack. Really.”
I stare at her, in awe of her resilience. She refuses to let the world harden her. “You’re welcome. Just don’t be a pain in my ass while I try to work on the bikes.”
“You got it.”
Something tells me I’m going to regret this, but seeing her so excited over something I did for her makes everything, for the time being, worth it.
CHAPTER 38
JESSI
The thrill of a job—and at the motorcycle club no less—lasts for about five minutes. That’s when I realize that I know pretty much nothing about motorcycles. I’m sure Jack explained that to Mike. Hopefully, Jack will help me until I get the hang of it. God, I’m already being a “pain in his ass.” I need to calm down.
After Jack tells me about the job, I run up to my room to try to piece together some outfits. I know that Sonny usually wears an MC shirt to work, but seeing as I’m new, I need to make a good first impression until I have an official shirt of my own.
While I riffle through my stuff, I decide to text my dad and tell him the good news.
