“You carry mine with you,” she responds, hitting me right in the gut. Once I find the fucker who pulled me out of the comfort of our bed, I’m gonna destroy them. They won’t know what the hell hit them when they meet my rage.
Fourteen
Jolie
“Hiya, Jo-Jo. You’re up and at it early,” my dad says as he walks to where I’m at in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand and a pumpkin muffin in the other.
“Decker had to be somewhere early, so I figured why not get up and work? How are you?” He’s been going to Alcoholics Anonymous and Counseling meetings twice a day. I remember one day weeks ago, when he was newly getting sober. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, a chip in his hand, spinning it around in a circle, a small bottle of Jack Daniels in front of him sitting on the kitchen table. I was gobsmacked. He did great for two straight weeks through the withdrawals, and I made myself scarce. His sponsor stayed with him, thankfully. When I asked if he was okay, he responded that he hadn’t opened it yet and that Mark was on his way to the Inn. I could have kissed his sponsor for helping bring my dad back to normal, and his counselor, Donna.
“I’m good. The need to drink isn’t there today, so it’s another day I’m happy to be alive. How are you?” He’s not wrong, plus he looks healthy. The ashen look is gone, same with his sunken eyes. He’s even taken down a few of Mom’s pictures that he’d kept up all this time.
“Good. Really good.” I take a sip of my coffee, taking in the sweet aroma along the way.
“You and Decker need more room. Have you thought about taking the old carriage house? I mean, it’s not been worked on in years, so it will need a lot of tender love and care.” I’m sputtering from my sip as he gives me the most genius idea he ever could.
“Are you sure? I mean, I’ll have to ask Decker.” We haven’t talked much about our future, but we really should. I don’t ever want to leave the Inn, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure Decker knows that.
“Without a doubt. It’s just wasting away. That and you don’t have to keep hiding his money from him.” I give him a sheepish look. Decker and I fought about that. He was adamant about paying his way. Since I was practically living with him, there was no way in hell I’d be depositing his cash into the bank. Now that Aunt Hans is gone, things have changed for the better. Financially, the Inn is in a better place because I’m not having to hide money at every which turn. Dad is in much better spirits, and life is like a dream. That is until I hear the excess noise of motorcycles and realize Dad and I have been in the kitchen for more than a few hours.
“Shit. You stay in here. Let me figure out what’s going on.”
“Dad, don’t go out there. Let me call Decker first. They can wait.” I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket knowing that today would be an administration day now that Shila is here to help. She and I switch days, giving us both a reprieve from cleaning the rooms.
“The number you have reached does not have a voicemail at this time. Please try again.” Those are not the words I wanted to hear when I called Decker.
“Okay, looks like you get to go with the first option, but I’m not letting you go out there alone.” Dad’s already striding towards the lobby, my legs working double time to keep up with him. My eyes are going every which way, trying to figure out where to look first—in the parking lot or at the front desk.
“Can I help you?” I almost run into Dad’s back when he stops suddenly.
“Yeah, lookin’ for Jolie,” a deep voice grunts out. My eyes move to the men and their women. I swallow and then say, “That’s me. Is everything okay?” The cuts that Decker schooled me on are the exact same as his.
“Tough luck, darlin’. Got some good news and some bad news,” Shovel, that’s the name stitched on his leather cut, tells me.
“Oh God, he promised he’d come back to me.” My thoughts take off in a tailspin.
“Jesus, Cain, stop scaring her to death,” the beautiful woman beside him says.
“Ignore Shovel. He’s in MC mode and forgets some things can be jarring to you.” She walks closer and holds her hand out towards me, so I move towards her. “I’m Persephone. This is Razor and Raven, and Shadow is bringing up the rear. Is there someplace we can talk? Rage is okay, just otherwise detained,” she elaborates, and I’m not an idiot not to comprehend what she means.