“Couldn’t find my phone.”
“Right. Guess you found it once you hit the town limits since you texted me not even fifteen minutes out.”
Yep, Trip was far from stupid.
“Didn’t mean to leave without a word,” Shade lied.
“Yeah you did.”
The cool late October air flooded Shade’s lungs with a sharp inhale.
“Look, we all got our shit. Every fuckin’ single one of us. Got that you had to deal with some of yours. But next time you do, clue us in first. ‘Specially after what happened up on Hillbilly Hill. We all went searchin’ for you again, thinkin’ you stopped breathin’ up there and thinkin’ we’d have to escalate the Clan Plan.”
“Didn’t mean to make anyone worry.”
Trip ignored that and kept rolling. “Rook and Easy have been goin’ up doin’ some recon, lookin’ for some signs of you. Or what was left of you. You might wish they found you dead once they find out they did all that fuckin’ work for nothin’.” Trip surprised Shade when he laughed. “Just so you know, you also drove Judge fuckin’ nuts with him not bein’ able to track your ass. Figurin’ that’s why your phone got lost. Also didn’t help that Cassie was worried the whole time, too. So, he had to deal with her stressin’ over you, which got him even more worked up. Don’t be surprised if the giant ain’t so gentle on your ass ‘cause of that. Might wanna have your kid with you the next time you see him. This way he don’t use the club hangin’ in The Barn on you like he did Cage.”
One side of Shade’s mouth pulled up. “Got it.”
“Now my balls are fuckin’ turnin’ blue.” He tilted his head toward the door. “We done talkin’ out here?”
“Yeah.”
“Figure out your shit and lemme know what your plan is either way. Figurin’ you haven’t talked to Chelle yet.”
“Headin’ there next.”
“Yeah, well, hide your crazy-assed knives so she don’t grab one and cut off your nuts before you get to explain.”
“Made a whole bunch of people unhappy,” he muttered.
“All except one,” Trip pulled open the screen door, “that kid inside.”
Trip pushed open the custom-made wood door and Shade followed him into the kitchen where Stella was leaning back against the counter talking softly to Jude who sat at the table Trip’s grandfather built by hand.
In that instant, Shade could imagine Trip’s sons sitting at that same table just like Jude was.
By the look in Stella’s eyes, Shade had a feeling Stella could see it, too. Because the warm look she gave Trip said a lot. So much so, Shade kind of felt bad for what he needed to ask next of the couple.
If they agreed, they would have to hold off going upstairs and working on making those babies. If they even made it that far.
Shade had a feeling they did a lot more than eat on that sturdy table.
“You good?” he asked Jude. After he got an answering nod, he turned to Trip’s ol’ lady. “Askin’ if you can watch him for a little while, while I go deal with Chelle.”
Stella glanced at Jude. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” Jude answered with a grin.
Stella turned back to Shade. “He could eat.”
“Not surprisin’,” Shade muttered. The boy was a bottomless pit. Shade had been going broke feeding him on the trip from Georgia to Pennsylvania. Grief had not made him lose his damn appetite.
He also dropped a wad of scratch when he bought Jude a prepaid cell phone, some clothes and a pair of sneakers. Shit he’d probably outgrow quickly as much as he ate.
Stella clapped her hands together once and announced, “Trip will make his famous pancakes.”
“With bacon?” Jude asked, his eyes lighting up.
“Fuck yeah, with bacon. Who eats pancakes without bacon?” Trip said. “Nobody I know.”
“Hopefully you got a whole pound of bacon,” Shade warned.
“Amish dropped off a whole shitload yesterday. Snagged a couple pounds outta the bunkhouse cooler before it disappeared.”
“There you go. Fresh from the pig,” Shade told Jude. “You eat and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Where you going?”
“To figure out where we’re goin’.”
Jude nodded, remembering their discussion about Chelle. “Good luck.”
“Gonna need it, kid.”
As he turned to leave, Stella called out, “Might want to wear a cup, Shade.”
He shook his head and walked out the door, hoping to fuck he didn’t. He’d find out soon enough.
That couldn’t be right. Chelle’s eyes must be deceiving her. She’d wanted to see what she thought she was seeing so badly she now imagined it.
Like a mirage.
That was all it was. She was conjuring up that bike in her driveway. The man sitting on the seat sideways, the kickstand down, his ankles crossed and his arms folded over his leather-clad chest was only an illusion. She was only dreaming his head was tipped down, hiding his profile with his long, loose, curly hair.