Page 110 of Burning Ember

“And stay where I can see you!” she hollers after him.

“I’m not five years old!” he yells back.

She makes a sound of annoyance in the back of her throat, and mumbles, “Then stop acting like it.”

The two have been going the rounds all morning. We’re an hour late because of it.

Over lunch the other day, she filled me in a little on what’s she’s been going through with him. I guess he was fine for months after his dad died, supportive and helpful as if he was trying to fill in as the man of the house. Then as if a switch had been flipped, something changed—he changed. He won’t talk to her about it and he gets angry every time she tries. The last few months he’s been staying out late, hanging with some new friends, ones Bethany doesn’t approve of, and he’s getting more disrespectful and aggressive toward her.

I’ve watched my fair share of their fights since I started living there, and it’s taking every ounce of my will power not to intervene and come to her defense. I’m actually worried he might put his hands on her. She needs help with him and I think maybe Mav or Dozer could set him straight.

“You’re lip is going to have teeth marks,” Bethany says, snapping me back to the here and now.

I stop biting my lip and adjust Medda more securely on my hip. Reaching forward with my free hand, I take one of the pies I made from her.

Bethany picks up the other two and shuts the trunk. After pulling in a deep breath, she asks, “Ready?”

“Not really, but I’m scared of Lily and her threats.”

She laughs lightly and together we follow Axel into the backyard of the clubhouse.

I scan the lot and see only two HOC motorcycles line the front of the clubhouse. Usually the entire front wall is lined with bikes. “Are the guys not here?” I ask. For a second, I feel disappointed. What if he isn’t back yet?

I haven’t seen Mav in three days, but he’s messaged me every day he was gone. Nothing as deep as his first text, which I’ve read and reread a thousand times. But his messages since have been simple and sweet. Each day he starts by asking, “You there?” To which I respond, “Yes. I’m still here.” Later on, I usually get another text checking to see if I’m doing okay or having a good time. And each night I get one more text that says simply, “Night, Doll.”

The tingling sensation that flows through me when I hear the cell phone vibrate and then see those words is indescribable.

That feeling is why I’ve stayed. I crave more of it.

I could fall head over heels for Mav. I could die at the hands of Luce. But the question is . . . who will he be? What if he’s a little of both? Could I love both sides of him, if it was safe to do so?

Or am I a fool for even trying?

This is why I’m here today. I need to know one way or the other if this is where I’m supposed to be or if I need to move on before Davis comes for me.

Bethany shrugs. “Doesn’t look like it. They’re probably out on a ride or stopped off somewhere to have a few drinks before the party starts. Maybe we can drop these off and sneak out before they arrive,” she jokes.

It’s not really a joke though. She’s been a nervous wreck all morning.

When we enter the backyard, my eyes sweep over the clusters of people throughout the backyard. They’re huddled in groups here and there, sitting in lawn chairs or at the picnic tables, others standing around. Most of the kids are playing on the large patch of grass away from the adults, while a few linger close to what I assume are their parents.

I spy Grinder and two older patch members by the grill. Grinder appears to be trying to kick-start the thing. A few other familiar faces and hang-arounds I’ve seen around the clubhouse are here, as well as the old ladies I met at the planning party the other day.

Nick’s directing Axel to the folding tables lined with food, just as Kendra and Taffy exit the back of the clubhouse carrying trays of more food.

“There you are,” Nick says to us as we get closer. “I wasn’t sure you gals were gonna show.”

“We tried to be here on time, but it’s been a rough day,” Bethany explains.

“Oh . . . ?” Nick’s brow quirks up.

Bethany waves her off. “Teenage drama. It’s fine now.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it. You can’t really have a party without potato and macaroni salad.”

“Exactly.” Bethany’s tone implies that she’s well aware of how she was swindled into coming.

Nick winks at me. Her eyes drop to the pie in my hand. “Whatcha got there?”