Hurricane Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 1)

Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed the bottle of whisky I’d found while packing and poured myself a drink. Fuck knew I needed one. Between thinking about Dad, Max, and Birdie today, my mind was completely fucked up.

Handling all of Dad’s belongings had been harder than I’d imagined. The fact I’d simply had to pack everything into boxes rather than think about whether we wanted to keep them or not helped, but even then, just looking at and holding each item had been difficult.

A lifetime of memories was in these items. And while I wasn’t sentimental about many things in life, if something concerned those I loved, it stirred my emotions.

I didn’t want to think about the fact I’d never see my father again. Hell, not being able to talk to him about the shit between Birdie and me was the fucking kicker that slammed it home he was gone. There’d be no more phone calls between us where he’d give it to me straight. No more conversations in which he’d point out the things I couldn’t see in a situation. And no more of him helping me be the man he’d raised me to be.

I threw some whisky down my throat.

I needed Max more than I’d ever needed him. He was being distant, though. Hell, he couldn’t even bring himself to call me earlier, but rather he’d texted to let me know his plans for today. That wasn’t how our relationship ran. Before he left tonight, I was determined to clear the air between us. I just had to take Birdie off repeat in my head while I did that, because she was like a non-stop loop that got in the way of everything else I was trying to focus on.

How long are you going to not talk to me about what I did?

She’d asked me that this morning and I hadn’t been able to give her an answer. Fuck, I hadn’t even been close to being able to answer that question, because the truth was I’d found myself in a place I’d never been—I didn’t want to talk to Birdie.

I didn’t want to confront what she’d done.

I didn’t want to confront our past.

And I sure as fuck didn’t want to confront our new reality.

We may never be able to have children.

“Matt,” Max said, entering the kitchen. I’d been deep in thought and hadn’t heard him arrive.

I took in his dishevelled appearance and the exhaustion etched into his face. “You look like hell, brother.”

Placing his keys on the kitchen counter, he nodded. “Yeah. I feel like it too.” Then, motioning at the whisky, he said, “Pour me one of those.”

Max wasn’t a drinker. Not these days. Not after years of Melissa making it clear she didn’t want him drinking.

I poured him a glass and held mine up as I said, “To Dad.”

Grief flashed in Max’s eyes as he held his glass up. “To Dad.”

My own grief clawed at me, but I forced it back down, unwilling to go there tonight.

We both drained our glasses and Max slid his across the counter to me, indicating he wanted another. After I’d poured the drinks, I said, “This bottle isn’t going to be enough for tonight, is it?”

He shook his head. “No.” He took a gulp of his drink. “But I know where there’s more.”

I lifted a brow. “Where?”

“In his office.” He glanced around the kitchen. “You’ve been busy.”

“I don’t want to leave you with a huge job.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I have to be back by Monday. I’ll probably leave early Sunday.” King had stuff he needed me to take care of and couldn’t push it any longer than then.

Max stared at me while he drained his second glass of whisky, while we both danced around what we really needed to talk about. I couldn’t do this a second longer, though. I fucking needed my brother back.

“Have you slept at home the last two nights?” I asked, suspecting he hadn’t. The last time he and Melissa had a fight that threatened their marriage, he’d slept at a friend’s house for a week. My brother liked to avoid his problems.

He surprised me when he said, “Yes. On the couch.”

As he poured us another drink, I thought back over our lives. To the day he’d married Melissa and the days he’d brought his sons home. They’d been the best days of his life, he’d told me. And I knew they had been by the happiness that had radiated from him. I couldn’t recall ever seeing my brother happier than those three days.