have handled everything so well if you—”
“Pfft. He’d have been okay.”
“Don’t diminish your importance in his life, babe. He lost his sister and learned his dad had lost parole rights…” My jaw clenched at his father’s stupidity.
She patted my chest, then spun around so she was leaning into me. I pressed my lips to her temple and whispered, “Wish I was inside you.”
A soft laugh escaped her. “You’re the one who wanted to visit your folks today.”
“Dorie was moaning,” I grumbled.
“Can’t blame her. You’re her only son, babes.”
I bit my lip at her easy acceptance of something that was true, yet wasn’t. I eyed the woman who’d helped raise me, and saw her and Lucie were hooting about only God knew what. Then I cut a look at Ink and Keys who were bitching about something with Axe and Flame, and then Wolfe and Dagger were hanging with my daddy. My sisters had come out and were jumping in the blow-up pool, and overhead, the stars had made an appearance, disguising the grass that really needed mowing, and the bike parts that took up a large chunk of the lawn because Wheels had been working on restoring in it during his spare time for the past two years.
This was life, this was home, and this was family.
It was only now when I realized how much that had opened up, and I was glad, so fucking glad, especially for Ink and Keys who didn’t have much of a family anymore.
“We gave them this, didn’t we?” I asked quietly.
She hummed. “They’re never gonna be alone again.”
“You little fixer,” I teased.
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “Can’t fix someone else when you’re broken.”
“You ain’t broken, babe. You’re just a little wonky.”
Laughter snorted out from her, and she began choking on the sip of Coke she’d just taken. I slapped her on the back, scowling down at her amusement. We caught a few glances from our families, but they turned away when they saw she was just coughing her guts up.
“What’s so funny?”
She giggled when she stopped choking. “Nothing. Nothing.”
I pshawed. “Doesn’t sound like it to me.”
“I’ll take being wonky over broken is all,” she replied, winking up at me. “In fact, I think I might get that inked on me.”
“You an addict now?” I teased.
“Hell yeah. Three pieces and counting.”
I grinned, then nuzzled my cheek into hers. “You gonna get a tramp stamp?”
“You want me to get one?”
“I’d like my eyes on it while I fuck you in the ass.”
When she shivered, I grinned.
“That can be arranged.”
“Glad to hear it.”
❖
Ink
Six months later
“What the fuck?”
I twisted around as Ama dashed past me like a whirlwind. One second she was standing at the bar, talking to her momma, the next, she was rushing past me. I followed her trajectory, wondering what the fuck was happening, and saw the clubwhore next to Keys.
It was his patch-in party. Normally, that meant shit got hot and heavy for a brother. It was a rite of passage that I really didn’t want Ama knowing about. Not considering Saint and I had done it—the rite was we fucked every clubwhore in the house and took three shots of tequila per pussy. By the end of the night, we didn’t want to touch a bitch or liquor for a week, but it was a hell of a laugh.
Because Keys was tied to Ama, and because her daddies would have killed him if he’d even thought about going through with the rite, his patch in party had consisted of a lot of drinking.
A lot.
He was on the sofa, more out of it than awake, and his head was tipped back as he snored, the party forgotten, his newly patched cut completely slipping from his mind.
Being absolutely hammered didn’t stop a sweetbutt though. The vicious, vindictive cunts were all as bad as each other, and I totally applauded Ama as she grabbed the bitch whose hands were on Keys’ junk by the hair and hauled her off her man.
In her skin-tight short shorts and vest, I could see each of her claims on us. With her hair high in a scooped-up bun that reminded me of a ballet dancer, Key’s tat was clearly visible from behind her ear. A keyring loaded with keys, the holes of which were shaped into hearts. It traced down to the side of her neck. My tat, around her arm, a tribal pattern that I was renowned for, curved around her bicep like a snake. From the top where her arm