Harley (Cerberus MC)

“Ali left,” Mom says as she looks down at Aria, patting her tummy as if that will keep her from being upset.

“Left? Where did she go?”

She shrugs, more of her attention on her grandchild than me. “She said she had plans.”

“Plans at eight in the morning?” I grab my phone from the counter, and glare down at the empty screen.

“She’s an adult,” Dad reminds me. “She doesn’t have to clear her day for you. Doesn’t she get days off?”

I glare at him, anger radiating off me. I can’t accept that he has a point. I also can’t accept my own actions and words brought me right here to this situation. Fuck, maybe Ali is right. Things are muddled and blurry, like my vision when I open my contacts and pull up Boomer’s number. My eyes swim with anger at thinking they could be together when they were together all evening.

I’m the one confusing everything. I’m the one sending mixed signals.

Me: Is she with you?

Boomer: Who?

Me: Don’t fuck with me right now.

Boomer: Ali?

Me: Yes.

Boomer: No.

Me: Where is she?

He doesn’t respond immediately, and my agitation grows.

“Is there some reason you’re so upset right now?” Mom asks as she places Aria in her high chair.

“She’s not supposed to be alone. It’s not safe,” I mutter as I type another message.

Me: If you know, tell me.

“Is there a threat against her?” Dad asks. “Em said the guy who hurt her is dead.”

“It’s not safe to drive,” I mutter.

Boomer: She’s on her way here to help with the party.

Only a little relief washes over me, but at least I know where she’s headed.

I look up to see Dad frowning at me as Mom moves around the kitchen to get Aria’s bottle and the rest of her breakfast ready.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter as I take a seat across from him at the table.

“Like what?”

My lips form a flat line as I stare back at him. “Something horrible could happen while she’s alone.”

“Something horrible could happen while she’s with someone,” he counters.

“She’s supposed to wait for someone to take her where she needs to go,” I mutter.

“She isn’t a prisoner. Maybe she just needs a little time alone,” Dad says.

“I think it’s great for her to be doing things alone. Em was worried she wasn’t dealing with her trauma very well,” Mom adds.

I want to argue that it’s even less safe if she left here upset. If she gets hurt because she was running away from me, I’ll never forgive myself.

I resist the urge to text her, but I don’t have to fight it too hard. If she’s driving, I don’t want her looking down to read or respond to a text.

Breakfast for Aria is puréed peaches, baby cereal, and a bottle. I drink coffee until it makes my stomach hurt.

My phone buzzes with a text from Boomer half an hour after he sent the last one.

Boomer: She’s here. She’s safe.

Me: Thanks, man.

Boomer: No problem, brother.

Brother.

I’ve never had one so I don’t really know how to act, but I bet being a dick to him isn’t the way it goes. He grinned the entire time I glared at him yesterday while he was waiting for Ali to get ready. He didn’t say a word, but he couldn’t be bothered to look a little ashamed about standing in the middle of my home, picking up the woman who I had kissed the week prior. I know it doesn’t give me any claim on her, but for some reason, it feels like it does.

“What exactly is the plan for the day?” I ask.

“We’re going to go for a walk in the park, and then have lunch, then a nap for this sweet girl—”

“And Pops,” my dad says with an unashamed smile.

“And Pops,” Mom agrees. “Em invited us over for a barbecue later this evening, so we figure we’ll go to that.”

I remember some of the guys mentioning wanting to get together, but it was mostly the single ones. I figured it meant one of their wild parties I’d only heard about. Unless they’ve had one since I came back to this house, they haven’t had one in a long time. Probably since I was at the clubhouse. I guess it means they’re due.

“Just a regular barbecue?” I ask, feeling extremely uncomfortable about Ali being there if the night is going to end the way I suspect it to.

“Just a regular one,” Dad says, giving me a look that tells me he knows what I am thinking.

Dad was Cerberus once upon a time as well. I’m sure he’s well acquainted with the types of parties that happen at the clubhouse. He wasn’t an angel before he met my mom, after all.

“Em said she had floats for all the kids, even the babies. Do you want to swim, Aria?”