I want to scream “no,” but the silent plea in Dad’s eyes causes me to settle back on the swing. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
He’s totally not welcome.
“Eli feels that the Riot, the motorcycle club that they’re rivals with, is a threat to you because of his current business issues, and that you’ll be safer under his protection than you would be returning home. Eli believes that if the Riot thinks you’re unprotected, they’ll use you against him. Your mom agrees with him. No one has made this decision lightly. Not Eli. Not your mom. I want to know your thoughts.”
Knots harden in my stomach as I lace and unlace my fingers several times. “You said they want me to stay. What do you want?”
Dad lays his hand over my fidgeting fingers. “The same thing.”
My head falls back and I fight the way my lower lip trembles. “So I’m in danger?”
“No,” Dad says with force. “You’re not in danger.”
“But I overheard Eli say—”
“You overheard what Eli believes. If you want my opinion, this is a game.”
His leg moves, causing us to slowly swing, and I contemplate his words. “What do you mean?”
“Do you remember my cousin Josh?”
I can’t help the lift of my mouth. Josh. He owns his own company, but odds are Dad’s referring to the conventions he attends where he dresses up as his favorite characters. It’s different from my world, but he’s a huge teddy bear and I adore him. “Yeah.”
“Sometimes people create a world that gives them power. Sometimes people create a world to find friends with similar interests. To me, motorcycle clubs are a rougher man’s sci-fi convention.”
A chill runs through me when I remember the men last night at the motel. “Are you saying that whatever is going on between the Reign of Terror and this Riot club isn’t real?”
Dad merely inclines his head in answer.
An unsettling jolt of nerves compels me to glance around to confirm no one’s overheard. A few hours with these people and even I’m aware that those are fighting words with men who are heavily armed. “I don’t know. They seem serious to me.”
“What danger have you truly met? You saw men in a parking lot in the middle of the night. If people from Eli’s club weren’t there, you would have bought your water and returned to the room. Eli’s convinced himself this is a big deal. It’s amazing what people can make themselves believe.”
I tap my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “If that’s the case, why have I been living in the seventh circle of hell for the past few hours?”
Dad chuckles. “I like that you chose violence.”
Dante’s Inferno and his nine levels of hell. It’s one of Dad’s favorite books. “It was a lucky guess.”
“To answer your question, I thought you should come back to the motel immediately, but your mother felt differently.”
My eyebrows rise past my bangs. “My mother? Mrs. Snowflake-is-the-devil’s-playground is the cheerleader on this?”
“She hates you being here, but she went into hysterics when Eli showed at the motel. Crying and screaming like I’ve never seen. Your mother has secrets, Emily. Those demons we talked about, and they have a strong hold when they pop up. They don’t terrorize her often, but when they do, she’s unreasonable.”
“What happened to Mom?” I ask. “And why is she scared of Snowflake—and Eli?”
He sighs. “I love your mom. I’ve belonged to her since she walked into that free clinic with you on her hip and told me I didn’t know jack when I informed her that you had a cold.”
I love this story. They’ve both told it to me a hundred times. Dad was volunteering at the clinic and my mother was a complete bitch to the know-it-all young doctor. She was right and I had strep. He was wrong and bought us dinner. The three of us have been together since.
“Your mom is persistent, headstrong, passionate and full of life and love. I traveled around the world after med school, not knowing what I was looking for, and I knew I had found it when I met her...and you.”
Even though it’s a million degrees outside and I’m minutes away from heatstroke, I edge closer to him. Sue me for this being my favorite part of the story.
“With that said, your mother has had this uncontrollable fear of motorcycle clubs. Terrified of their reach. Terrified of their violence. Terrified that at any moment they were going to barge into our house and rip you out of our hands. She told me stories and for the first few years I believed them, but then year after year we heard nothing. Saw nothing. My fear receded and yet your mother’s stayed the same.”