Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (54 page)

“Hey, baby…” he started, and heard the front door open. Sighing, he turned to look at the house again, seeing a woman walk out to stand on the front porch. He knew he hadn’t seen her for more than a dozen years, but this woman didn’t resemble the one he’d left behind in Wyoming at all. She looked a lot more like the one he’d known years before that, when he was a child.

Her hair was attractively styled, and her eyes were clear. There was no smile on her face, but he figured that was more to do with him dropping in on her like this than her normal personality, because she had soft smile lines next to her eyes and in her cheeks. Trim and fit, she was dressed casually in jeans, with a lightweight sweater over a t-shirt; she was barefoot, something he remembered as a thing with her when they had lived on the ranch before Daddy died.

Without saying a word, Slate held out his hand for Ruby to help her dismount the bike. Once she was firmly on the ground, he tilted the bike over onto the kickstand and swung his leg over the seat, not taking his eyes off the woman on the porch. Her arms were wrapped around her torso, fingers digging in the fabric along her sides.

He felt Ruby’s fingers wind themselves into the belt loops at the back of his pants, and he smiled softly. Seeing that change of expression on his face, the woman’s aspect lifted, not quite into a smile, but at least a softening of her features. “Andy,” she said, and covered her mouth with one hand.

“Hey, Mom,” he responded, moving around the bike and up the walk towards her, Ruby in tow behind him. Reaching around for her hand, he pulled Ruby up beside him to go up the steps. “How you doin’?” he asked softly, reaching a hand out to his mother’s face; he pulled the hand away from her mouth and gripped it in his, her small hand enveloped in his much larger one. “Mom,” he said, turning to look down at the red curls beside him, “this is Ruby.”

They talked late into the night, long after Ruby had fallen asleep on the couch. His mother wanted to hear everything about his life, all the things she’d missed over the years, good and bad. He’d told her about the last time he’d seen her, and they’d both cried over what that had done to the Andy he was back then.

The topic of Ben came up often; she’d seen him a couple years ago when the band was in Denver for a show, but he never knew she was in the audience. “I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d get, and I didn’t want to take away from his night,” she told Slate.

“He’s kind of a prick most of the time.” He nodded at her. “It was probably a good idea to not ambush him in public. He’s different now, back with the band. His sober companion is working for now, and we recently extended the guy’s contract another six months. Benny’s afraid he’ll slip back to how he was.”

“Andy,” she said, tears welling in her eyes as she reached out to cup his face with both hands, “I cannot change what I did to you. I wish I could—
God,
how I wish it—but I can’t. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I have to take this opportunity to ask for it, or I’ll never know. I’m so sorry for what I did, for what you witnessed, and the things you had to do. I have no excuse, but I am so sorry.”

She was crying by the time she finished speaking, but refused to hide her pain by looking away, and he was unexpectedly proud of her in that moment. Raising his hands to cover hers, he sighed. “Mom, I get it. I do. I can’t imagine your pain, not just at losing Daddy, but afterwards, when you realized the things you’d done. I’m amazed by your resilience and strength to come back after falling so far. Did it suck?” he asked rhetorically and nodded, pulling her hands to the table and covering them with his own. “Yeah, it sucked hard. It was a fucking hard life and changed us all, but I want you to listen to me, and
hear
me.

“I am who I am today, because of who I’ve been in the past. If you hold onto the fear and the pain of what’s gone before, then you let that past rule you. We live with the experiences we choose to give weight and presence to in our lives, and they shape us in all the important ways. Read my fucking tattoos, Mom. It’s all here. Every bit of it. Every lesson.”

He stood, stripping off his shirt and tossing it onto the chair. Pointing to his left shoulder where the angel stood sentinel, he explained, “This was for Benny, my shrimp. I love my brother, and will always be there for him. You taught me family should be everything way back when Benny and I were just kids. That’s stayed with me.” Twisting his arm so she could see the words, he pointed to the tribal on his left bicep. “If the past is practice, then the only lesson is to not repeat the shit we do that hurts people, yeah?” She smiled up at him through her tears, nodding.

Showing her his left wrist and forearm, he read the words to her, “See this? ‘Never let your fear decide your fate’—for me, that means while we might be the sum of our experiences, we can move past our fear and take control. I think that’s what you did when you got sober. It had to be hard, here...by yourself, alone...but you did it.

“This one on my ribs,” he pointed to his left side, “says ‘The journey is the reward.’ Not the destination, but the journey...because fuck, if we are traveling through life for the sake of getting where we’re going, then we’re stuck. We have to be constantly learning, changing, and growing…and moving forward, yeah?”

Pointing to his right forearm, he said, “This one…this is the most intense statement I’ve ever heard. ‘We live with the scars we choose.’ It’s profound, because it doesn’t mean physical scars. This is talking about the hard shit, the demons inside us that’ll tear us apart if we let ‘em. What we have to do is not give them space to fucking breathe, and only keep the things that matter, the people we love and the lessons we’ve learned…the things that make us
better
.”

He leaned down, cupping her cheeks in his hands like she’d done to him earlier. “I am so fucking proud of you, Mom. You didn’t let the past rule or define you. You made yourself better and stronger. I love you. I’m sorr
y I didn’t come sooner to see.”

***

Rolling east out of Denver, Slate leaned back, tipping his heels on the pegs. He felt Ruby press against him, fingers tightly laced around his middle and her cheek against his back. He’d talked to his mom for hours, and then this morning, she and Ruby had gone shopping for a couple of hours, buying things for the baby, and his mom would mail them soon. She’d be coming to the wedding too, and he couldn’t wait to introduce her to his brothers and friends.

Frowning, he thought to himself that he’d have to prepare Benny so there’d be no problems. Maybe he should bring her out a couple days early, so the two of them would have time to sort their shit before things got crazy.

They were approaching an exit and Ruby tapped his shoulder, so he took the ramp, pulling into a gas station. Helping her dismount the bike, he was surprised when she leaned into him. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled his face down to hers. Sighing, she traced his jawline with the tip of her nose, and he slowly stroked her braid. “I love you,” she said softly, pulling back to look into his eyes intently.

Puzzled, he responded, “I love you too, baby.”

“I’m proud of you, Slate,” she told him. “You are such a good man.” She smiled, leaned in to kiss him, and then turned to walk into the store.

Shaking his head, he put down the kickstand and dismounted the bike to gas up, wondering what the hell that was about.

***

Sitting at the bar in Jackson’s, Slate felt like he had come home. He looked over at Ruby where she sat in a booth with Mica, Molly, Jess, and Brandy. The girls were doing shooters, while Ruby and Mica were drinking the herbal tea Mason insisted would be good for the babies. Mica’s look had nearly scorched the bar, but she relented when Ruby laughed, and they had both reached for the cups.

Ruby and Mica were due only a few weeks apart, and Ruby promised to come see Mica and Daniel’s little boy as soon as he was born. The two women had been chatting nonstop for a couple hours now, and didn’t appear to be running out of topics anytime soon.

Mason and Bones sat on stools at the bar beside Slate, and he had an odd sense that his life was coming full circle. These two men had influenced him greatly, and they would be at his wedding.
His wedding
...that still sounded odd, even when it was only in his head.

Mason laughed. “Did you hear what Daniel and Mica are going to name the baby?” Slate shook his head. “Jonathan Mason Rupert,” he said proudly, then laughed again. “Mica thought the first name should be after Daniel’s dad, but he argued for
Jason
. That would have made the kid Jason Mason. I told him it sounded like a fucking serial killer.”

Slate and Bones both laughed at that, and they looked up as Daniel walked in through the door. He first went to Mica, leaning down to speak to her, and then kissed her softly. Turning, he walked across the bar to the men, giving Merry a casual wave. Reaching out his hand, he pulled Slate into a brief, one-armed embrace. “How you doin’, Slate?”

“I’m good, man, real good. Ruby and I are getting married in a coupla weeks. You gotta bring Mica down for the wedding,” Slate laughed, “and Jess, Brandy, Molly, and her little man. Fuck, man, you’ll need to rent a bus.”

“I think Brandy is making the cakes,” Mason said with a grin, “so you’ll have to transport baked goods across state lines. You good with that, Daniel?”

“Fuck you, Mason,” he laughed. “I’ll get Dickie to drive; no one will be the same by the time we get there.”

Slate leaned back looking at Daniel, and then across at Molly, “I heard J.J. was interested in Molly. That shit stick, or did he move on?”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “It’s sickening how they are around each other. He likes her, she likes him...but neither will act on it, so there’s this thick, cloying, sexual tension. He’s fucked in the head because of being in the wheelchair, and she sees herself as the unwed mother. I hope they figure it out soon; that’s all I’m gonna say. You decide where you’re holding the ceremony and reception yet?” Daniel asked Slate, who shook his head. “Okay, if you decide you want to use the Coliseum, let me know, I know the GM for the ECHL team there, so I bet I could help.”

“Fuck me, the hockey arena? I don’t think we need anything that big, man,” he started, and stopped when Mason and Bones laughed. “Seriously,” he started again, “I don’t think...” He trailed off, because they were laughing again.

Mason clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Slate, brother, I know of nearly four hundred Rebels who are going to be there, plus about a hundred Soldiers, and another couple hundred Machos. I’ve heard from Disciples, Dominos, Highwaymen, and Devil’s Sins—now that they cleaned up their shit. Bones, man, how many Skeptics you bringing?”

Bo
nes laughed. “About a hundred.”

Daniel spoke up, “The entire Mallets team is coming, and since Jason is in Fort Wayne, he’s bringing a bunch of the local players too. By my count, that’s nearly a thousand guests, man. Let me know about the Coliseum.”

Slate laid his head down on the bar top; he was a little dizzy. “Fuck me,” he breathed, “a thousand people?”

An arm reached around him, pulling him back and depositing a plate on the bar in front of him. Twisting around, he looked to see who it was and grabbed the big man behind him in a tight hug, thumping his back hard. “Fucking Road Runner, man, I want you to meet my Ruby. I think you are part of the reason we’re together. I told her so many hilarious stories about your fucked up menus.”

Road Runner looked offended for half a second, and then the look fell off his face, replaced with a wide smile that split his beard. “Happy to help, motherfucker, and happy to meet the one who captured your heart.” At this, he clasped his hands in front of his heart, then nearly fell over laughing.

“Fuck you,” Slate chuckled at him.

“Before we go there, I want you to try this. It’s pan-fried mushrooms in a reduced sake and compote sauce and I like it, but I wondered...why are you laughing?” Road Runner’s face fell, and he yelled across the room, “Mica, Mason’s being an asshole. So’s your husband.”

The women crowded around them, and Slate found his smile was stuck on his face. He introduced Ruby to everyone who came into the bar, and she tried a half-dozen dishes for Road until she finally shook her head, biting her lips between her teeth. “No more, please. I’m so stuffed.” She hugged the chef, and he caught Slate’s eyes over her head, grinning and nodding his head in approval.

They stayed in Slate’s old room in the back of the bar. As quiet fell on the building after everyone left, he pulled her close to his side in the bed, listening to her slow breathing as she slept. “I love you, baby,” he whispered, kissing the side of her head, “so much.”

***

Pulling into the parking garage, Slate tensed, looking around. He’d done this every time he parked in here since Ruby was kidnapped; he just couldn’t help himself. Ruby started to get off the bike and he snapped, “Wait a min,” swiveling his head back and forth, looking for threats.

“Babe, it’s okay; there’s no one here but us,” she tried to soothe him, running her hands down his back. In his head, he kept thinking,
She had been at my side when she was taken
. Every time he remembered waking up on the floor of the garage without her, it stole his breath and reminded him nothing was safe.

Inside the elevator, he took a deep breath.
I
have
got
to
get
past
this
, he thought, shaking his head at himself. “Glad to be home, baby?” he asked Ruby. “Ready to sleep in our bed?”