Could I do it? Foster kids? I’ve never thought about it before. I doubt it’s the right time for me; I can’t even decide if I want to stay here for good. The idea doesn’t exactly thrill me. A chat with Robin about her could possibly help, so when everything is done here, I head for my parents’ house. I know Dad is teaching a self-defence class tonight because both Noah and Memphis are in the lesson.
“Hey, Pops, you busy?” I call out as I step through the front door. The smell of freshly baked bread fills the hallway, which means there’s homemade soup to go with it. That’s my dinner sorted out for the night.
His footsteps come from upstairs. “Hello, love. This is a nice surprise. Did you want something, or did your dad mention me making soup?” He chuckles as he descends the stairs.
“The soup is an added bonus. I want to ask you something.” I follow him into the kitchen, where we spend ninety percent of our time together.
“Oh. That sounds ominous. Are you okay?” He sits down at the large table and pushes a chair out with his foot.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just fidgety, and it got me thinking about my mum and how she was always on the move, never wanting to stay in one place for any length of time. Is that why I’m never settled? I’m always looking for something to anchor me. At the time, I never thought it was wanderlust; I thought everything I did and wanted to do was and is to protect people. I’ve done things I’ll never be proud of, but I’ve always done it with the hope that it’s making the world a better place. Or at least the parts I’ve been in.”
He looks at me for a few long seconds. I know he’s thinking of the correct way to answer me. “It’s possible, I suppose. What has you wondering? Are you thinking of leaving again?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Something’s missing.” I think of my brothers and their men, how happy they are together. All moving on in happy lives. “I wonder if all the things I’ve done have been pointless, that I haven’t actually achieved anything. Did I do any good in the army? Were the sacrifices worth it? The world is still fucked up. I’ve done some fucked up stuff for the sake of this country. I’ve walked away with a clear conscience because the people I stopped were more than willing to hurt, kill, and maim others, often dying themselves in the process. I’ve been to my comrades funerals; I buried the man I expected to live my whole life with. I’ve come to terms with it because not living your life to the best of your ability is not honouring the ultimate sacrifice they made.” Jesus, where is all this coming from? I didn’t plan any of this monologue. It’s all true. Even if I’ve never said it out loud, I’ve known it all along.
“Oh, Drake. You’ve had a positive influence on the world. You’ve knowingly put yourself in some of the most dangerous hotspots, because you believed it was the right thing to do. What has this got to do with your mum?”
“Do you know how to find out where she’s buried?” I blurt out. I want to go and see her grave; does she even have a headstone.
He looks at me stunned. He blinks a few times before taking a deep breath. “What makes you think she’s dead?”
“I was told by…” My words get stuck in my throat at the thought of Warrior, Rees, whoever the fuck he is. “I met someone from back then. He recognised me and filled me in.”
“Who? Who did you meet, Drake? And when, where were you?”
He knows what happened to me. Did Saint tell him, well, them, because Saint wouldn’t have told one and not the other.
“I think you know already,” I croak out, embarrassment coursing through me. “Who told you?”
He’s pensive for a while, figuring out how to get through this conversation. “It was mentioned to us when your dad and I were at our club. You know how things in our community get around. I wasn’t going to say anything because you hadn’t told us. I don’t know what went on, or who you were with, but I think I can put it together now.”
“Warrior. It was Warrior, or Rees as he calls himself now. He basically orchestrated the whole thing, chatted to me at Bound, said the right things, he even did some good things, yet I didn’t even recognise him. How could I? I was only a kid when I last saw him. I’m not telling you what he did to me, but he told me Mum was dead, OD’d after coming out of jail.”
“Oh, Drake, my poor boy. How bad did he hurt you?” His chair scrapes on the floor as he stands up quickly and is ‘round the table to wrap his arms around me, his cheek to my hair. He turns his head and kisses my head. “Are you okay? Did you get help from your brothers?”
There’s no way I’ll tell him how bad it was. “No. I called a friend. Saint came around a few days later to check up on me, which of course led to the others coming over. Back to my mum. Do you know if she’s alive?”
“Not for sure, but she signed the adoption paperwork. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.” He shakes his head, probably wishing he had more to tell me.
I hold back the question that’s sitting on the tip of my tongue. I don’t ask if she asked about me. I’m frightened of the answer.
Pops straightens up and surreptitiously wipes his eyes. “That got intense quickly. Really, Drake, are you okay? We don’t want you to leave again.”
Before I can answer, the front door opens, and a cacophony of voices tumble down the hallway. The moment is lost. Dad’s home, and it sounds like he’s brought the whole family.
“How did it go?” Memphis calls out to me as I walk into his cosy flat.
“Is he always a total dickhead?” I kick off my shoes before walking into the living room, hearing a deep laugh that doesn’t sound like my friend. Royal is here too. Great.
“Pretty much,” Royal says as I walk in. Memphis is on his lap and is shirtless. I can see the bruises from Royal’s bites on his skin. Something I always find very attractive on a sub, even more so if I’ve put them there. The thought of Matt with them over his neck and chest pops into my head, and I push it away as quickly as it arrived. “But he’s also loyal to a fault and will go to the ends of the earth for someone he considers his family.”
“God, that’s all I need, a bloody hero,” I mutter under my breath.
“Oh, he’s that. Decorated for it too. Four years in the army.”
“Don’t forget he’s James Bond.” I grumble. Then I shake off my mood at being kicked out. “I’m hungry; have you eaten?”
Of course, they have. “Have you got some takeaway menus?” I know Memphis, and he is not an enthusiastic cook, so he’s a regular at all the local takeaway shops.
