Page 20 of Carver (Satan’s Angels MC #8)

“I don’t have any grandparents who are still living.

” It seemed to be a curse in my family. It wasn’t just my dad’s parents who died quite young.

“So that would be an offer I’d be more than happy to take her up on.

” I’ve cried so much lately, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

It’s just nice that these ones are happy tears.

I miss my grandparents, but at the same time, the thought of this family being for all of us as we become a family of our own, hits me hard.

We exit the trailer, Dom clutching my hand. He turns to the house across the yard while Dravin looks towards the domed shop.

“I said that I’d like to light this place up, but I have a better idea. I’ll pack the bags I want- and there’s literally almost nothing I want to take except what Bronte’s given me—and then I’m going to bulldoze it. How much do you think it is to rent one of those?”

Tonight is seriously a night for surprises, because what on earth? I didn’t realize that we were packing up more than the bike.

If Dominic’s emotions are anything like mine right now, they’re all over the place, swinging back and forth. I don’t want to question him, but knocking down a house that’s stood for generations isn’t something you can just undo if you change your mind.

“Maybe we could rent something in a few weeks?” I whisper, darting my eyes between the house and Dom. “That way, we’d have time to figure out clean up. If you want to clear the land to sell it, we could probably get all of the stuff that needs to go at once.”

Dravin claps Dom on the shoulder. “Whatever you want to do, we’ve got you covered.

You want an excavator or a dozer, we’ll rent it and bring it out here.

Bins too for clean up. You want every inch of this place razed to the ground, you just give the word.

You want it restored, you could say that too, and we’d find a way to make it happen. ”

The noise Dom makes is somewhere between choking and keening. It’s wounded and animal and tears right through me. “You don’t need to do that for me.”

“Alright then.” Dravin drops his hand from Dom’s shoulder, agreeing, but it’s only to appease him.

“Is that really an alright then?”

“No.” Dravin’s one of those people who has the magical ability to laugh at the hardest things, not in a mean way or in a way that makes a person feel as though they’re being attacked or betrayed, but in a way that makes you want to laugh and feel better too, even if you’re not sure how it’s possible that you’re doing it. “We’re going to help you out.”

“Why?”

“I’ve told you why. Because some people get put in your path and you just know that they’re meant to be in your life.

” His tone changes, getting deeper and far more serious.

“I felt that way about Kael’s brother. He was my best friend.

He saved my life over and over. Maybe that was the reason we met.

Maybe it was to keep me alive. Or maybe it was because I needed to meet the love of my life.

Whatever the reason, it was his dying wish that I take care of his sister. You know some of this.”

His eyes flick to me. I don’t know any of it.

He continues, “It felt wrong to fall in love with her, but it wasn’t something I could keep from happening.

Not when she wanted it too.” His scarred face breaks into another grin so big that the corners of his eyes crease up on the good side, and on the scarred side by his glass eye, the skin pulls taut.

“When Kael wants something, she’s not afraid to go after it.

Anyway. The why might not be clear in the present, but it often gets that way if we wait a while. ”

“So it’s actually selfish? Your reasons. Currying favor with karma?”

“Completely,” Dravin deadpans, because he gets Dom’s humor.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“He is not!” I gasp.

“Did I say it like it was a bad thing?” Dom brushes a kiss over my temple.

It’s maybe the most shocking thing that’s happened all night.

Even before, he never just kissed me like that, so carefree and…

happy. Never when anyone else was around.

“I happen to be an asshole myself. You’re in good company. ”

“Neither of you are a-holes!” I shove my hands onto my hips. “Do you want me to come to the house with you to pack?”

“Want me to grab some things out of the shop?” Dravin’s not in a hurry to get out of here, but he is efficient. It makes sense, given that he’s an ex-SEAL. He likes having a plan of action.

I expect Dom to say no, but he inclines his head, considering Dravin’s offer of help for a moment.

“I’d just like my tools right now. I don’t like the thought of them out here, far away from me, even if I’m not sculpting right now.

” His hand flexes against mine, opening and closing, curling our fingers together again.

For Dom, sculpting is like breathing. Going such a long time without doing that must be driving him insane.

He told me once that it’s not like he hears voices, but he does see images.

Sometimes they come in flashes and bursts, other times they’re like a movie playing out from start to finish.

He said that when he gets edgy because he needs to sculpt, it feels like crippling like anxiety.

I know that feeling. Or at least, what it’s like to know that you need to do something and not be doing it.

The longer you put it off, the stronger that sensation gets until it settles down into the pit of you, choking you.

“Sure. I can grab those. We’ll make a plan for the stones and anything else you need as soon as you find a shop in town, yeah?”

Dominic nods. “I guess I’ll just have to accept that I’ve done nothing to earn your goodness, or the club’s, but it’s there anyway.”

“Fucking rights it is,” Dravin confirms. “They’ll help you move if you ask them nice.

Even if you ask them not nice. Or ask them not to.

There’s nothing going to stop the old ladies from coming out in a big pack to help you make your way into Hart.

Not with Kael getting them all worked up, and you can bet if you’re moving into the house she’s probably going to move out of, she’ll be as worked up as worked up gets. In a good way.”

“I’d like to meet everyone, but do you think they’d like me? I’m a farm girl. I don’t swear. I don’t wear leather. And I’m a mom.”

Dom stiffens. He drops my hand, but only so he can inch his arms around my waist and tuck me into his side.

It’s a protective gesture, one that lets me feel all the hard planes of his body underneath his old plaid wool shirt he uses as a jacket because he runs hot.

So hot that he immediately warms me. We’ve spent so many cold nights together outside and I didn’t care about the elements at all when he was right there to chase the chill away.

Dravin picks the huge door that doubles as a ramp off the ground and hefts it up on the trailer. He snaps the locks in place. I guess anything Dom wants to take from here will be going in the truck. He turns around, dusting his hands off. “Do you like Kael any less for who she is?”

“Okay. I’m just… a little bit nervous. Maybe? Maybe it’s all excitement.”

“Excitement’s a great thing. Don’t lose that wonder. It makes you who you are.”

Dom gives my hip a squeeze before he releases me.

“Will you go with Dravin and help him gather up my tools? You know which ones I’d like.

You don’t have to take them all right now.

I’m going to go to the house and pack a bag and grab the things I want.

I’ll be done before you both will. I’ll join you in the shop and grab the records. I’d like to take them with me.”

“I’ll get the turntable ready to go too then.”

I’m not used to this version of Dom who accepts help. I still brace for an argument, but he doesn’t give one. He gives me that lopsided half smile that’s slowly becoming familiar now that he’s had his surgery and starts off towards the house.

I watch to make sure that he gets there and gets inside before I turn and walk to the shop with Dravin.

The truck’s headlights do wonders illuminating the path so that we don’t stumble and fall.

The country is so much darker than in the city.

When the moon and stars are out, you get quite a spectacular view, but when it’s dark, it’s fully dark .

Tonight is one of those nights, with plenty of cloud cover.

“You’re bringing him back to life, Bronte. You know that?” Dravin asks as he opens the shop door for me.

I step through and click the light on. The switch is just inside the door.

A few bulbs in ancient sockets groan to life, blinking on and off before deciding to stay on.

They give off a sickly yellow glow. I always hated how Dom spent all night sculpting sometimes, especially under these lights.

I’ve been here in the morning after he’s done an all-nighter and his eyes seem so sore.

He tried to hide it well, but I could tell that sometimes, he could hardly make them focus.

“I’ve been there myself. Dark holes and times where all you know is anger.

” Dravin walks over to the workbench on the far side of the shop, and I follow.

“The world is shit. You feel like shit. Life is shit. You start to question what the point of anything even is. I’ve been through those times where I thought I wouldn’t make it, but I did.

It was a miracle. But why? For what purpose? ”

I want Dravin to tell me what the answer to that is, but he falls silent.

He waits for me to point out the tools, which I do.

There are many in here, in chests, wooden cabinets stacked haphazardly on top of each other instead of being mounted to the wall, and on open wooden shelves that sag under their weight.