Mom: Neal! Answer me.
Fuck. If my mom stopped to think for two seconds about any of that, she’d realize how wrong those messages are. I’m sure she’s taking my perceived silence as answer enough. I didn’t want this to be the way that my parents found out about me and Esme, but honestly? I don’t know that I ever wanted to tell them. It’s not their business. If they don’t understand me, then they won’t understandthis. They’ve always been, and they always will be, Team James.
They can go on being the people they are, and I can go on being me. We can exist in Hart. I won’t let them chase me away, and I certainly won’t let them chase Esme away. I’ll protect her. I never planned on managing them. I don’t know what I’d planned, really.
I said that was it, but I didn’t mean I was going to cut them off forever. I meant that I’d stop letting everything slide. I wouldn’t let them treat me the way they always have. I’d speak up for myself, and definitely for Esme.
“Wizard? Are you okay?”
The phone drops from my hands and lands on the bed. “I’m… something. I haven’t decided yet.”
Esme tugs a fresh tank top on, with no bra underneath. “Is it the club?”
“One of my mom’s friends saw us riding out of Hart.” I wish I didn’t have to say anything. I keep my voice neutral, so that I don’t reveal how pissed off I am about people prying into our lives. “She told my mom that I had someone on the back of my bike and mom’s been blowing up my phone. I had it turned off, which I never do, but this isourtime away. I trust Dravin and Maverick to hold everything down at the club. I didn’t need to be checking my phone every couple minutes.”
She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Is it bad?”
“It’s not bad. It’s annoying. It’s—I don’t even know what it is.” I open my arms and she falls into them, sitting on my lap and hugging me while I hold her. My heart picks up and some of my annoyance bleeds away. I enjoy the scent of her, her warmth, her arms draped around me in a protective hold instead. “I don’t know that I want to devote the energy to giving it any attention. They know now, and that is what it is. I’ve always been bad at speaking up for myself, but it’s time for boundaries. If that means staying away and not talking to my parents until they can think things over for themselves, then maybe that’s for the best. No amount of me wasting my breath is going to get them to hear me or see reason.”
“That’s very true. Still…” She rubs small circles on my back. “I’m sorry this is so difficult. This isn’t me blaming myself. This is me saying that I know what it’s like to wish that I could have said that my parents were my heroes growing up,or that they inspired me, or that we were best friends with each other. I think it’ll be different now, but it’s—it’s uncomfortable. It’s painful. I get it.”
She does understand. Not just because she’s empathetic, but because she’s been a part of my life for so long. She knows exactly how my parents are.
“I’m not gonna answer her.”
“Is that okay? I think you should text something back if it’s going to make you upset. I don’t want that for you. I’m fine with whatever they’re going to say.”
“I’m not. I made that clear when I went over there. If I respond with anything, it’s gonna be a repeat of what I told them, and then I’ll make sure that I don’t answer anything else. Maybe I should block their numbers so they can’t text me. If I have to read stupid shit every day while they sort themselves out, I’m gonna lose my mind.”
“I’m only sorry that it hurts. I know it does.”
I want to protect her, but there she is, with more than a little bit of a protective edge to her own voice. “Thank you.”
She kisses the back of my neck. “Want to have breakfast?”
I toss my phone onto the chair where my clothes are. I face Esme, smiling an easy, genuine smile because she’s here, in my arms, and life doesn’t get much better than that, even if there are some parts of the background noise that need adjustment.
“I’d love breakfast with you. In bed. I’ll call down and they’ll bring it up. I’m all about sampling other foods off your body.”
Esme gets two minutes into the menu when my phone rings. We both glance at it. I curse, thinking that my mom has graduated from blowing up my phone with texts to calling, provoked by my silence. I don’t mind nearly half as much when I see Raiden’s name on the screen.
I don’t mind until the first thing Raiden says is, “Your brother is outside the clubhouse, screaming for you to come out.”
Fuck. Iknewthat my mom’s texts about James were weird.
“What? He’s—”
“Yeah. Not in Mexico anymore. Want me to call the cops? I think a good old-fashioned arrest might do wonders.”
Like most clubs, we do pay something to the cops in Hart, but they’re not a bad bunch overall, and haven’t given the club any problems over the years. Still, it’s not like we call them. Ever. More the opposite. Thinking about Raiden doing it makes me want to laugh, although none of this is funny.
Tyrant pops up on the phone. “We could also let him in and show him the basement.” That’s sorted other not so great types out real fast. “It’s nothing short of miraculous, how people grow up in a hurry when they’re facing down a whole host of pissed off guys and a tray of shiny, sharp objects.” Tyrant clears his throat. “To be clear, we wouldn’t actually torture him.”
“He could probably use a few punches to shut up his asshole mouth. Or a good gag. I’d be fine with either.”
“It’s up to you,” Tyrant says. He’s serious. “What wouldyoulike us to do?”
My eyes track to Esme. I’m not sure she can hear anything, but she knows something is fucked judging by my tone.
