“I’m not the same person I was before, dad.”
“That’s for sure.” He stared at me, disapproval and disappointment etched into his features. Looking at him then, I realized how much my mom’s illness-and probably, all of my shit-had aged him. I’d never thought of him as an old man, and he looked old. I had a sudden pang of regret then, so strong it nearly brought me to my knees. In that moment, I wanted more than anything to take it all back, to tell him I was coming back home to run the ranch. Then, just like that, the moment was gone, replaced by a sense of inevitability.
“Dad, I -” I stopped.
What could I say? I had nothing to say. I’d chosen my path, and there was no changing it.
I’d been too far gone for a long time now.
“Unless you’re going to tell me that you’re walking away from that gang of criminals, I’ve got nothing to say to you.” He exhaled and shrugged his shoulders, his weariness apparent.
More than anything, I wanted to hug him, the way I did each time I came home from deployment. Back then, Dad would clasp my shoulder and say, “Welcome home where you belong, son.” But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not even knowing I was leaving home for the last time.
I couldn’t walk away from the MC now. It was the only place I belonged anymore.
It was the only place dark enough to handle all of my demons.
“Keep that shit away from me, and away from this town. You want to destroy yourself? Fine. But you’re not bringing it around here, and I want nothing to do with it, you hear?”
I clenched my jaw, resolved. “Don’t worry, dad. I won’t be back. You can count on that.”
He looked at me for a long moment then. “I hope to God that’s not true, son.”
~
It was the last time I’d spoken to him, and now here I was, on my way back home, still wearing my leather cut, still a member of the Inferno MC, although probably not for long. It was also debatable how long I’d be alive. I had no idea what my dad was going to do when he saw us pull up in the driveway, but this was the only place I had to go. I literally had no one else. I’d burned a lot of bridges outside the MC, and this had always been a safe place. It was only temporary, and there were lives at stake other than my own.
April Holder and her daughter Mackenzie followed behind me in the brown minivan, closely trailed by April’s husband Crunch. From the outside, it looked like a caravan of people on a fun family road trip, but this was about as far from that as you could possibly get. You see, I’d been tasked with Crunch’s murder. And we’d just left a fallen brother behind.
June
“Sure you don’t need anything else?” My mountain of groceries was scattered across the checkout counter, enough food for a family of ten even though it was just me, at least for right now. I looked up at “Connie C.,” as everyone called her, the only other occupant in the tiny general store in West Bend. Grey hair swept to the top of her head in a loose bun and a plaid apron tied around her waist, Connie reminded me of my mother. Or what I imagined my mother would look like if she were still alive.
It was like deja vu, coming back here. A memory of my mother baking in her apron flashed before my eyes, and I tried to shake off the momentary feeling of sadness.
The past was the past. There was no sense in crying over it You knew you couldn’t come back here without all those memories resurfacing.
“No, ma’am,” I said. “I’m sure.”
“Now there, don’t ma’am me,” Connie said as she reached for a stack of bags. “I knew you before you were knee-high to a grasshopper, June. You know my name; there’s no need to get all formal on me. Unless the big city changed you, being a hotshot doctor and all.” Her mouth was turned up at the corners in a teasing smile.
“I hope I haven’t changed that much, Connie C.,” I said. “This place still looks the same. Is Connie P. still over at the hair salon?”
“She is,” Connie said, handing me some bags as she started bagging my groceries. “Still turning old ladies’ hair blue. Don’t know how she stays open. I guess some people never learn. Oh Lord, I don’t guess it feels like coming back to a big city since you’re used to places bigger than this, but West Bend has grown since you left.”
“I noticed,” I said. Connie C. barely paused to breathe before she kept going. I didn’t mind the talking. Incessant chatter from other people rather suited me. I wasn’t much for talking myself, not anymore anyway.