The difference in opinion on the Outlaws MC had driven a rift between Curly and his cousin. Despite it all, Tyler had been the only family member to write Curly in prison. The letters had been few and far between but receiving them had given Curly hope for a future reconciliation.
Looked like the future had finally arrived, which explained the nausea and inability to eat breakfast that morning.
A handful of letters to a felonious family member were one thing. Getting Ty to agree to Curly’s in-person proposition was another thing entirely. Curly hadn’t realized just how vital this reunion was until Tyler stood in front of him. How much he wanted to rekindle the friendship they’d once had. Guess he’d find out just what his cousin thought of him.
“Hi, Tyler.”
His cousin still stared at him as though he were an alien landed on earth. “I—” He shook his head then strode forward. “Shit, it’s good to see you, man.” He enveloped Curly in a back-slapping hug that lasted longer than any he’d ever received from a family member.
“You too, Ty.” Understatement of the century.
“Um, I, uh...” Tyler cleared his throat as he released Curly. After a step back, he shook his head and rubbed his chest. “Sorry, I sound like an idiot. Think it’s safe to say you shocked me to a near heart attack.”
Curly smiled. “Sorry. Thought in person would be better than a phone call.”
“I’d heard you’d gotten out.” Ty ran a hand through his hair. “Wondered if you’d get in contact.”
That made Curly wince. Maybe he should have called as soon as he’d gotten out. “I always planned to. Just needed…time to get my head on straight.”
Similar in color to Curly’s, Tyler wasn’t gifted the chick-magnet mop of curls. Still, it was dark and shaggy, and when combined with his muscular form, plentiful tattoos, and a deep tan, he’d never had trouble nabbing a girl.
“Yeah. Can’t imagine.” Ty cleared his throat. “Never thought I see you again, though. Figured you’d stay as far from this place as possible. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s good with me. Real good.” With a heavy sigh, Curly shrugged. “Staying far away was the original plan. Shit changes, though. Probably doesn’t make sense, but I just needed to be here.”
They stared at each other for a moment. What was Tyler thinking? He’d been warned that despite the overturned conviction and confession from Lane of the police department’s role in framing him, not everyone would automatically believe his innocence. Even if they did, some people would fear him after he’d spent so many years in a maximum-security prison with other convicted murderers.
“Well, shit, cuz, it doesn’t need to make sense to me.” Tyler rubbed his chest as though it ached. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. I know it doesn’t mean shit, but I’m fucking sorry for what happened to you. Never believed you did it, you know? Back then, I tried to tell the cops it just wasn’t possible, but the evidence…”
He met Ty’s somber gaze. “Yeah.” The manufactured and planted evidence that stole his fucking life.
They fell quiet for a moment, probably both lost in the horrifying events of the past. Finally, Tyler broke the silence. “So, what’s your plan now? You need a place to crash or anything? My house is yours. Anything you need.”
“Nah, believe it or not, I still got the house.”
“No shit?” Ty asked with a laugh. “Damn, cuz, had I known, I’d have made sure it wasn’t falling to pieces over the years.”
Curly joined him in chuckling. “Yeah. It’s a shithole, obviously, but I had a company deep clean it yesterday while I started on some yardwork. Figure in a few days I’ll have it looking livable again.” He’d owned the small two-bedroom house since he was thirty. It’d sat untouched for more than a decade, and the overgrowth was insane at this point. He had the money to do whatever the hell he wanted to renovate it, he could sell the thing and buy something a hundred times nicer, but he wasn’t ready to make that decision. He needed to get his footing, make sure he could pull off starting a club, and determine if he genuinely wanted to stay in the area long term before making any decisions about a more permanent living situation. For now, the tiny house was more than enough for him. Hell, anything bigger than a seventy-square-foot cell still felt like a mansion these days.
“How about I come help you out this evening? I’m done here about five this afternoon. We can get a few hours of work in while the sun’s not so high, then grab some dinner. I could kill someone for a burger and a beer.”
As Curly was about to agree the idea sounded damn good, Tyler paled.