Craving Cecilia (The Aces' Sons 6)

“Me, either.”

“After the shooting, my dad said that some pencil-neck fuckers weren’t going to scare his family from their home,” Cecilia said dryly. “It was his big stand. But all the kids are gone now, you know? Only Charlie’s still at home, and she wasn’t even alive then. What does he have to prove at this point?”

“Maybe they just love the place,” I replied.

“Well, I don’t. I don’t give a shit if they redid the backyard. It’s still the place where our lives fucking exploded.”

As we got closer to Eugene, Cecilia’s hand went to her mouth, her fingers pulling at her bottom lip over and over. By the time we took our exit, her knee was bouncing with anxiety and her hand was holding mine so tightly that my fingers had begun to ache. There wasn’t anything I could say that would calm her down, and I wondered how in the world she’d forced herself to visit in the past if it made her that nervous.

When we pulled through the gate of the Aces’ compound, it was like a switch flipped. Cecilia’s hand slid away from mine as she sat up straight and ran her fingers through her hair. She quickly pulled her sweatshirt back on and found a tube of lipstick in her purse, smearing it on without bothering with a mirror. By the time she’d settled back into her seat like she was out for a Sunday drive, it was like I was looking at a completely different person than I’d spent the last few anxiety-filled hours with.

As we pulled to a stop in the forecourt and I put the truck in park, Cecilia looked at me.

“Showtime,” she said quietly. Then, without waiting for me, she hopped out of the truck and immediately opened the back door for Olive.

“You want me to grab her seat?” I asked as she climbed inside.

“No, I’ll just grab her without it,” she said as she unbuckled the baby. “But can you grab the diaper bag? She needs a diaper change.”

“No problem.”

After I’d grabbed the bag from the backseat, I met Cecilia at the hood of the truck. It was so late that I swore I could see the sky growing light, but by the number of people streaming out of the clubhouse, everyone had waited up for the convoy to get back.

“Give me my grandbaby,” Farrah ordered as we made our way toward the front door. “I wanna show her off.”

“Later, Mom,” Cecilia said with a shake of her head. If you looked closely, you could see the tension in her shoulders and in the movement of her body.

Unsurprisingly, no one noticed but me.

“Such a party pooper,” Farrah said lightly, bumping Cecilia with her hip. The tension that Farrah had been carrying seemed to have melted away now that we were behind the safety of the Aces’ gates.

“It’s not a party,” Cecilia ground out. The tension in her had magnified.

We were swallowed up as the groups mingled, and not for the first time, I noticed the way Cecilia stood apart. Not geographically, we were right in the middle of it all, but emotionally.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Poet said as he stepped in front of us. “Look at the three of you.”

“Good to see you, old man,” I said, grinning as he slapped me on the shoulder.

“You need to call me more often,” Poet replied. He pointed at Cecilia. “This one never calls.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to,” Cecilia said in amusement.

Poet harrumphed. “Like you’ve ever done what you were supposed to anyhow,” he said, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Beautiful, as always. You call me anytime you want to hear an old man blather.”

“Make sure you’ve got the time,” Amy said, coming up behind her husband. “He’ll keep you on the phone for hours.”

“Hey, Amy,” I said as she smiled at me.

“Hey, yourself.” She shook her head. “Should’ve guessed when you were eating us out of house and home that you’d grow into such a giant. Every time you come home, I’m surprised again at how damn tall you are.”

She turned to Cecilia. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentle. “Good to have you home.”

“It’s good to see you,” Cecilia replied. She didn’t say it was good to be home.

“You sure know how to make an entrance,” Amy said, grinning. “Let’s get you inside out of the weather so you can show me that baby of yours.”

“Cecilia!” a voice called over the crowd. I looked up from Amy to find Cecilia’s aunt Callie hurrying toward us. Within seconds, she’d wrapped Cecilia in a hug with Olive pressed between them.

“Goddamn it,” she said, her voice muffled by Cecilia’s head. “I can only take one of the kids getting into trouble at a time.” She leaned back to look at Cecilia’s face. “You okay, baby?”