vending machines, so how about you cut me some slack?”
I blink. Several times. Did he just call me...? And did he just say...? Heat flushes my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and shock. The door on the porch squeaks open and a figure made of solid muscle stalks onto the porch. “Oz.”
The porch light flips on and it’s the man with the long gray beard and ponytail who stood beside Oz outside the funeral home. He’s dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt and an open red flannel with the sleeves rolled up. Seeing him, I empathize with Jack swaddling the stolen goose in his arms as he faces down the very ticked-off giant.
His gaze lands on us and I don’t miss how it lingers on me. I inch closer to Oz and my side brushes against his. I don’t know why, but my instincts scream that Oz means safety. He presses a hand to the small of my back and it’s as if an invisible force field forms around us.
Oz doesn’t push me ahead. Instead, he skims one finger along my spine. I shiver and this time it isn’t from the cold.
“That’s Cyrus,” Oz says so only I can hear. “He’s Eli’s dad. Your grandfather.”
My heart aches. The pain comes sharp and fast and it hits so hard that I know it will leave a scar. “I didn’t know I had one.”
Eli mentioned Olivia before, but he never discussed his father and I never cared enough to ask or imagine one existed. Maybe Eli did mention him and I blocked it out.
Oz inclines his head to the house. I walk forward and Oz is kind enough to match his pace to my slow stride.
“You’re being nice to me,” I say. “Thank you for that.”
“Did you think I was an asshole?”
Um...yeah. “Well...”
“Your first instinct was right.”
“Why are you being nice to me then?” I ask as we reach the stairs.
Oz pauses on the bottom step and glances at the bear of a man towering by the front door. “Because nobody deserves to be thrown into the middle of a tornado.”
The screen door opens again and the woman I had abandoned hours before shuffles onto the front porch. Her head is covered by a blue scarf and she wears a pair of jeans and a form-fitting black T-shirt. Olivia touches Cyrus’s arm and smiles down at me. “Welcome home, Emily.”
I ENTER THE living room and rub my knuckles against the stubble forming on my jaw. Every single baby picture of Emily has disappeared. That’s left a lot of noticeable dust-outlined bare spots.
Olivia fusses over Emily in that demanding way of hers, telling her that she must be hungry and thirsty. Emily scratches a spot on her arm and my eyes narrow at the red welt developing on her wrist. I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.
Mom appears in the doorway from the kitchen and she rests a hand over her heart when she sees me. One of her men home. One more to go. From what I understood on the phone, Eli, Dad and a bunch of other members tore off on their bikes for the motel. Because of Olivia’s cancer, Mom often stays with Olivia when Mom’s off work.
“Don’t stand there like a statue, child. Tell me what you need,” says Olivia.
Emily rubs harder at her wrist and her eyes shoot to mine as if she’s asking me to answer for her. Guess I am an asshole because I don’t swoop in for the rescue.
“Can I talk to my mom and dad?” she asks.
Olivia immediately glances to Cyrus and he clears his throat. “Soon.”
“Are they okay?”
“Yes,” Cyrus answers.
Emily’s eyes dart around, trying to take in the people surrounding her and the bright, open room. Lincoln log walls. Wooden floors. Flat-screen television. Overstuffed couch. A recliner for Cyrus. Surround-sound system. Most of the furniture and electronics are gifts from Eli. His attempt to buy his way out of guilt.
“Why...” Emily’s whole body shudders like an epileptic fit and she brushes her fingers over her arms as if to warm her skin. She’s acting so damn cold that even I’m starting to believe it’s winter. “What’s going on?”
“There’s been a misunderstanding,” says Cyrus.
“Seems to be a lot of those.” Emily throws a death glare in my direction. Damn, she’s got fire. That’s shocking considering I pegged her to be a mouse of a girl who did everything exactly as her mother told her.
“And we apologize for that,” Cyrus continues. “We’re having some business issues and our negotiations have hit a snag.”
Emily tosses her arms out to her sides. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No,” he agrees. “It doesn’t.”
That’s the only explanation Cyrus will offer. Emily’s inquiring about club business and Emily’s not part of the club. By the scowl on her face, she’s pissed. Being shut out doesn’t sit well with most girls. Women like Mom and Olivia are a rarity.
Olivia straightens her scarf as she starts to shake. Last week, Olivia was so sick she was in bed with an IV. While I love that Emily’s brought a hop to her step, Olivia’s wasting energy to put on a show for her long-lost granddaughter.
“Emily’s in shock,” I say. “She’s cold and she mentioned she hasn’t slept yet.”
Dirty look number two. If Emily keeps this up, she might be elevated from good-girl status to bad.
“I’m fine,” Emily mutters, but what she doesn’t realize is that I didn’t say it to humiliate her. I said it to force Olivia off her feet and my plan works.
Like she’s herding a timid sheep, Olivia corners Emily until she practically falls back on the couch and Olivia relaxes beside her. Mom’s in front of Emily with a mug of something steaming and uses a soft tone as she introduces herself.
Cyrus inclines his head to the porch and as I move to walk out, Emily’s head snaps up. “Where are you going?”
All eyes land on me. Cyrus strokes the length of his beard as his eyes flicker between me and Emily.
“Front porch,” I answer.
Emily scoots to the edge of the couch like she’s going to stand and my mom and Olivia flutter their hands to keep her seated.
“Oz isn’t going anywhere,” Cyrus says. “I need to follow up with him on a few things and then he’ll be back in.”
“Oz?” asks Emily.
Cyrus motions with his head for me to confirm it and I do. “I won’t be long.”
Emily reclines back against the couch and cups the mug in her hands, but doesn’t drink. Odds are she thinks it’s poison.
Cyrus and I step onto the porch and, off in the east, dark blue creates a line against the black of night. Dawn’s coming and I have no idea what this day is going to bring.
“You were supposed to become a prospect last night,” says Cyrus.
I lean my shoulder against one of the log columns supporting the roof of the porch and cross my arms over my chest. Cyrus eases up beside me, resting a hip on the railing.
“I know.” Today was supposed to be the first day of the rest of my life, but Emily’s visit messed everything up.
“It’ll happen,” Cyrus says. “But Eli’s priority is his daughter.”
I nod, because there’s nothing else to say.
“Eli called you, Oz. Multiple times. You texted as he was heading to hunt