“I just—” She shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like he’d fit in there.”
“He would.” I assured her, looking back at the ceiling. “We grew up with those people. They’re family. Better than family.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything else.
“Why’d you tell people your name was Hawk?” I asked, remembering her walking around the clubhouse like she lived there. Mick wasn’t the only one who didn’t seem like he’d fit in there, but had.
“It’s a cool name!” she said propping herself up on an elbow. “Everybody’s got cool names. Dragon, Grease, Casper, Poet—that name is seriously fucking cool—uh, Hulk, Samson, Moose!”
“You’re forgettin’ some,” I said, laughing at her excitement.
“Yeah, well, those are the coolest ones. You don’t have one, though.”
“Nah, not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Lotta reasons. Haven’t earned it. Poet’s the one who doles those things out, gotta wait for the old geezer to knight you or some shit.”
She giggled and dropped back down to the bed.
“I like him. He’s from Ireland, huh?”
“Yep. Came over before his daughter Brenna was born. So did his wife, Amy.”
“But her accent is different,” she replied, her fingers once again sliding over my skin in indistinctive patterns. “She’s not Brenna’s mom, right?”
“Nope.”
“There must be a story there.”
“Yep.”
“Well, are you going to tell me?” she asked, pinching my nipple.
I laughed as I pulled her fingers away from my skin and laced them with mine. “Alright, you ready?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“I’m going to hurt you.”
I laughed again and squeezed her hand. “Alright, I’ll give you the rundown.”
“Wait!” She scrambled away from me and rolled off the bed, and I watched her bare ass jiggle as she slid the small window over the kitchen sink open. Then she was jogging back across the room and I got to watch other things jiggle. Damn. “Okay, now I’m ready,” she announced as she curled back up against me.
“Alright, so Poet and Amy have been married since they were kids. But when they came over from Ireland, some bad shit happened, and they didn’t get back together until like, twenty years ago.”
“Whoa. And he had a kid with someone else even though they were still married?”
“She did, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, that part’s kinda cloudy though. Poet was livin’ with Brenna’s mom until she died, but I’ve never heard nothin’ about Nix’s dad.”
“Nix? I didn’t meet him.”
“Nah, he’s got his own shit. Lives up in Portland with his partner.”
Heather stilled. “His partner?”
“Yup.” I let that sink in. I was pretty sure she had a skewed idea in her head on how we felt about gay people. As in, we didn’t give a shit what got people off, and for some reason she thought we did.
After a full minute of silence she spoke again. “Okay, how is everyone related to freaking everyone else?”
I laughed, making the entire bed shake. “Uh, okay so…”
“Out with it,” she ordered.
“I am! Just trying to figure out how to explain it without confusin’ ya.”
“I’m pretty smart, I think I can keep up.”
“All right. So, Poet was the VP of the Aces before my dad.”
“Okay.”
“Poet’s daughter is Brenna. Brenna married Dragon who’s our new President.”
“This is supposed to be confusing?” she cut in.
“Shut it,” I ordered, smiling. “Dragon and Brenna have two kids. Trix and Leo.”
“Leo’s the one with the scar?”
“Right. And Trix is married to my cousin Cam—you know him as Hulk.”
“And they have those cute twin boys, right?”
“Yup. So that’s their family.”
“I’m following,” she said firmly, though I knew she was probably going to have a hundred questions when I was done.
“Right. My mom and dad have Will, Me, Micky and Rose, you know that. Casper is my mom’s brother, and he married her best friend Farrah.”
“I like Farrah.”
“Everyone likes Farrah,” I replied. “You want to hear the rest or you done?”
“No, I want to hear it.”
“Farrah and Casper adopted Cam when his parents died. Then they had Cecilia, Lily and Charlotte.”
“That wasn’t so confusing.”
“Oh, and Farrah’s dad was Slider, our old president.”
“Jesus. You guys are like the Old Testament. Everybody marrying into the same family. Wait, old president? What happened to him?”
“Died,” I replied, swallowing hard. “Same day as Mick.”
“Oh,” she said, so softly I felt it more than heard it.
“Story time is over,” I announced, closing my eyes.
“Yeah, I got that,” she murmured, kissing the side of my chest. “Goodnight.”
“ ’Night, sugar.”
I took a deep breath and prayed to God I wouldn’t have a nightmare that night. Twenty minutes later, I was still awake when Heather’s quiet voice broke the silence.
“Was it you?” she asked. “Did you do it?”
“Did I do what?” I asked, stiffening.
“You know what.”
I didn’t move. Barely breathed. Of course I knew what she was talking about. I thought about it damn near every day…but I had zero remorse.
“Does it matter?” I finally asked.
She was quiet for a long time, so long that I didn’t think she would answer me. Then finally, her lips met my chest again with a sweet kiss. “No. It doesn’t matter.”