Hellion (Southern Rebels MC)

“Apparently. Well enough to know my mom ran away from here and if I know what’s good for me, so should I.”

“What happened to your mom?”

The question was abrupt, instantly jolting me back to the memory of that afternoon.

The bus groaned to a stop and I waited impatiently as the bi-fold doors creaked open. Mom was supposed to have picked me up at school, but she hadn’t showed. I hoped nothing was wrong with the truck and we could get moving. I’d resigned myself to leaving and already said my goodbyes. Lingering would only prolong the pain…I knew that from experience.

“Cadence!”

I looked up and saw Patsy frantically waving at me. I jogged over, cursing the delay but she’d been kind to us even if she was a huge gossip and would keep me an hour if I didn’t escape. “Oh, sweetie.” I slowed at her tone, suddenly not wanting to hear whatever she was about to say. “Something happened.”

She grabbed my arm, tugging me away from the front of the RV park. She kept glancing over her shoulder as she hurried me along. “Let’s get out of here before the old bastard shows his face.”

“Why would Phil be looking for me?” I questioned, following her automatically. Phil was the park manager and not the biggest fan of my mom and me. He thought she was a hippie and she thought he was an uptight prick. “Where’s the trailer?” We’d arrived at Patsy’s teardrop travel trailer, but the space next to her was glaringly empty. “Did Mom leave?” My mind couldn’t process the thought that Mom would leave without me. “Patsy, did Mom leave without me?” I asked urgently, coming to an abrupt stop, setting her short body off balance.

She looked distressed, but shook her head in the negative.

“Tell me what happened,” I enunciated carefully, not about to move another step without answers.

“She got everything loaded up and pulled the trailer around to the gas station to fill the propane tanks,” Patsy explained, wringing her hands. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but there was a shooting.”

“A shooting?” I repeated, the words not making sense to me.

“They said it was a robbery. A purse snatching. She was walking across the parking lot to pay. You know she always parked way out.”

“Where’s my mom?”

“She’s gone.” My face must have told her I didn’t comprehend because she said, “She’s dead, Cadence. Your mom is dead.” My knees suddenly didn’t want to support me and only Patsy’s grip on my arm kept me upright. “They don’t know about you.” She shook me hard. “Listen to me, Cadence. I liked your mom, but even I can see when someone’s running. You need to go.” She looked over my shoulder. “Now. Before Phil gets social services out here.”

“Go where?” I couldn’t make my brain work, each word dragging out of me.

“You got family somewhere?” I shook my head automatically and she sighed. “You don’t want to wind up in the foster system.” She pressed a ring of keys in to my hand. “I moved the truck and trailer. If you’re gone, he won’t have a reason to call social services. Start over somewhere, graduate, and send me a postcard, won’t you?” My fingers curled around the keys, recognizing the familiar weight. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

I nodded, still shell shocked and numb, but years of hasty departures kicked in. “Where’s the trailer?”

“Behind the dumpsters.” She squeezed my fingers painfully, forcing me to focus. “It’s senseless, her dying, but she taught you everything you need to know to survive. Don’t waste it.”

I shook my head, barely able to comprehend her words, but managed to utter, “I won’t.” She let go, giving me a little shove and I stumbled, my backpack shifting on my shoulder, and I clung to the damn key ring, letting the individual notches cut into my fingers as I walked away.

“Why didn’t you try to find your dad after your mom died?” Noah asked when I stopped talking, and I could understand his confusion at my teenage choices.

I rubbed my fingers together, the physical pain nothing but a memory anymore, but unable to shake the questions about my mother’s past.

“Because I didn’t believe her,” I answered simply. “Starting over was easy. We’d done it a thousand times. I just lied and said I was older. I didn’t need a father.”

Concern creased his face. “But now you do?”

I didn’t know if he meant did I believe her now or did I think I needed a father, but my answer was the same either way. “I needed a place to start over. A place to belong.” I smiled bitterly. “That’s all I ever wanted. I thought maybe here, I could get it right.” I shook my head. “But it seems history repeats itself. She wasn’t safe here and neither am I.”