Craving Kara (The Aces' Sons 7)

“The coffee shop is back open, too,” I replied. “So it’s back to the daily grind for me tomorrow.”

“Daily grind,” he snickered. “Nice.”

“You like that?” I asked, smiling.

“Well done,” he said with mock seriousness. Then his tone changed. “You and me need to talk when you get home.”

My smile disappeared. “Grandpa,” I muttered.

“You know they can’t keep secrets for shit,” my dad replied. “Which is why, I’m guessin’, you told them.”

“I hadn’t thought that much about it.”

“You’ve been keepin’ secrets for a long ass time, princess,” he said. “Time to fess up.”

“There’s a difference between handling things on my own and keeping them a secret,” I argued.

“In this case,” he replied, “no, there isn’t. We knew somethin’ was goin’ on with you and we asked you about it—repeatedly—and you told us shit was fine.”

“I was handling it,” I said.

“You shouldn’t have had to,” he shot back. He let out an audible breath. “We can discuss all this once you’re home.”

“Looking forward to it,” I replied sarcastically.

“Don’t be shitty with me,” he warned. “I haven’t done shit except support you the only way you’d fuckin’ let me—”

“I know,” I said quickly, instantly regretting my tone. “I know.”

We were quiet for a few moments.

“Rose is pissed,” Dad said finally. “Fair warning.”

We got off the phone a few minutes later and I had just enough time to run to the restroom before they started boarding my flight. As soon as I’d found my seat, nervous anticipation hit me at the thought of being back home.

Instead of dreading the conversation I needed to have with Draco, the closer I got to Oregon, the more ready I became to lay everything out on the table. Nana had convinced me during the long ass walks she’d dragged me on that he was going to find out no matter what I did and the long runs I’d gone on by myself had helped me come to terms with that fact. Secrets always had a way of coming out into the open and wouldn’t I rather he heard them from me? I needed to trust him with everything. The anxiety of making sure that he didn’t find out had turned into anticipation of unloading it all at once and getting it over with. Once it was out in the open, I could deal with the fallout—at least that’s what I told myself.

By the time I’d reached my car in the long-term parking, I was practically humming with nervous energy. It would still be hours before I was back in Eugene, but I planned on using the drive to work out everything I wanted to say. I was equal parts dread and anticipation. I couldn’t wait to see Draco, to be able to look in his eyes and smell him and know that he was close enough to touch, but that was mixed with a sense of foreboding. I wasn’t sure how he would react to all of the things I needed to tell him. At least I knew, once it was out in the open, we could move forward. The miserable limbo I’d been in for years would finally be over.

When I finally pulled into town, I checked the clock, and realizing that Draco would still be at work, I decided not to go home first. The club would be neutral ground, just as much my place as his—at least until he patched in—and if things went south, there would be other people there to stop him from doing something stupid.

I rolled my window down as I reached the gates and groaned as I realized who was standing guard.

“Oh, great,” Curtis said flatly. “You’re home.”

“Nice to see you, too,” I replied in the same tone. “Would you open the gate?”

He stared at me for a long moment and then took his sweet time rolling the gate backward just wide enough for my car to fit through. Lucky for him, my dad had taught me to drive instead of Rose, or there was a good chance I would have run over his feet as I threaded through the space.

I flipped him off as I drove down the gravel driveway, not bothering to look back and see if he’d noticed.

I was on a mission and he wasn’t the Harrison brother I’d come to see.

As I reached the forecourt, I realized that I was cutting it pretty close timing-wise. Most of the guys were milling around, the big garage doors already closed for the night. Draco’s truck was easy to spot, though, surrounded by a sea of Harleys, so I knew he hadn’t left yet.

“How was Montana?” Grandpa Grease called from where he was smoking on one of the picnic tables near the front entrance. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he flicked the ash of his cigarette.