“It’s been years already. How does she get away with alienating you until then? It ain’t fucking right.”
I shrugged and stepped away to serve. When I came back, Mateo was no longer alone. Saint was with him. He stared, but I didn’t mind. It was everyone else’s attention that got under my skin. And Mateo still wanted an answer to his question. The same question Rubi had asked while wearing a pink tie-dyed tee with the slogan Omm My God splayed across his chest.
He was still wearing that T-shirt. And I was still wearing the one that had mysteriously appeared in the bunkhouse. Why does it smell like—
“What did your lawyer say today?”
I met Saint’s gaze again. “Same as she always says. That the only card I have is to be as reliable and stable as possible. She thinks I’d look better if I had a missus at home, but I reckon that’d make Lauren worse.”
“What about a mister?” Mateo said. “I know Lauren’s homophobic as hell, but it’s a different vibe to two women going at it.”
“Wouldn’t know, mate.”
Mateo grinned. “You never had a couple of birds scrapping over you, brother?”
“What do you think? Actually, don’t answer that.”
I stepped away again. It was Friday night. The clubhouse was packed. This time when I came back, Mateo had gone and Nash had taken his place, glitter in his beard, nails painted the same baby blue as his eyes. The others—Rubi, River, and Locke—had drifted closer too, and they were chin-deep in a debate that made my eardrums bleed.
“You need a pretend fella.” Rubi clapped me on the shoulder with his huge, tattooed hand. “I’d volunteer for the job, but I’ve got my hands full. Must be someone we can tap for the cause, though.”
I slow blinked. A fake boyfriend? Was this conversation even real? Any other night, perhaps not, but with so many brothers settled in for the duration, spirits were high and the beer flowed. Wild ideas became fact, and before I knew it, I was hooked up with Locke.
“Lauren already likes him,” Rubi reasoned. “So does Ivy. You could fake date for a while, right, Lockie?”
Locke eyed me over the rim of his fourth pint. “I’d be down, but I’ve got kids of my own, and my daughter would be all over me having a fella. Besides, she’s seen Decoy, and her mate called him a DILF. It’d be weird if her old dad started banging him.”
“Wow.” The rum on the shelves behind me began to call my name. “Don’t say those words again. Like, ever.”
“You got it.” Locke laughed, still giving me a look I couldn’t get a grip of. “So that’s me out. What about Folk? I mean, you’re already wearing each other’s clothes.”
I glanced down at the stolen T-shirt and something clicked in my frayed brain. The most obvious thing. Folk rarely slept in the bunkhouse, but he kept stuff there like every other brother who half lived on the compound. A locker that caught my eye every time I passed it for no other reason than it belonged to him.
Of course it was his shirt.
Goddamn, it even smelled like him, and the realisation that the ocean and herb scent was a tangible thing and not a figment of my wistful imagination distracted me from the rest of Locke’s words.
Suddenly I was twenty-five again, and my heart was beating out of my chest. My blood was the sweetest fire and I’d never been so sure of who I really was.
Sometimes it was hard to believe I’d been a dad back then too.
“He’d have to move in,” Rubi said. “Wouldn’t work if Lauren thought Deeks was just shagging him.”
Whoa. The conversation had run away from me again. Along with the fact that most of my brothers were empty. I grabbed a bottle from the fridge and set it in front of River. Poured pints for Nash and Rubi and water for Saint. He didn’t drink much anymore, and I knew him well enough to gauge that he was done for the night.
Locke was done too. He waved me away and rolled from his stool, flashing a peace sign to the others before he tapped out and left the bar.
Nash’s gaze followed him before he looked at me. “You can tell him to shut the fuck up, you know.”
“Who?”
“This idiot.” Nash elbowed Rubi. “He has his worst ideas when he’s drunk, and that’s saying something, considering all of them are fucking shite.”
Rubi glared and flicked beer in Nash’s sparkly face. “Excuse you, Lord Nashie. Let’s see your mood board on the fucking subject.”
“He never asked for anyone’s ideas,” Saint interjected. “Leave him alone.”
Saint spoke rarely enough that people listened. I took my chance and slipped away, paying for a bottle to keep me company as I escaped the oppressive bar and took refuge on the steps outside. It was a warm night, the sky clear and punctuated with stars, aircraft flashing as they passed overhead. Ivy thought night flights were piloted by unicorns. I’d never bothered to correct her. Why bother when her take on reality was light years better than the truth?
I’d forgotten to open my beer. I jammed it on the stone steps with the heel of my hand, spilling foam over my fingers as bike engines sounded in the distance.
Folk. It was more than one bike, but I knew it was him by the shiver that rattled my spine. The awareness that bloomed in every sense, and the jump in my pulse.
Sure enough, the gates groaned a few seconds later and two bikes slipped through before they were fully open. A matte black Ninja and a stripped Fat Boy.
The Ninja parked out of sight, taking Alexei with it.
Folk eased his Fat Boy into the space beside Locke’s Dyna and killed the engine. Transfixed, I watched him lift his helmet and run a hand through his hair. It was longer now than it had been that night in Paphos. Wavy. Soft-looking. I was jealous of his hand, and imagining mine taking its place was a nice place to be, until the buzz of my phone jolted me back to the present—a text message that killed any chance of shifting the dark cloud hanging over me.
Lauren: Ivy didn’t feel well after the dentist. She wants to stay with me. You can take her to school on Monday if you’re not too busy or hungover from the weekend.
Hungover from the weekend. It was so outrageous I nearly laughed. How could she make something so obstructive sound almost reasonable?
But I didn’t laugh. My soul was dry. No humour to be found. I’d expected this message since I’d returned from the school run alone, but losing more precious days with my baby girl flayed me open all over again, snuffing the spark a mere glimpse of Folk had provoked. Smothering it with a cloud of resentment that drove me to my feet and back into the bar.
Keeping busy passed the time. But the sense of that time slipping away was killing me.
3
FOLK
He’s wearing my shirt.
That was my first thought as I turned from my bike in time to see Decoy rise and disappear into the clubhouse.
The second was that he was upset. The slump of his shoulders and the brutal grip on his phone were obvious tells, but it was more than that. Somehow over the past year, I’d become attuned to every nuance and mood of a man I barely knew, and I felt his quiet distress in my bones.
“They asked about you today.”