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HEMINGWAY

I ’ve been riding for hours, but the winding road and the wind on my face have done nothing to soothe me today. I’m not only physically exhausted, but I’m mentally drained. I’m beginning to think it’s time to leave Rhode Island behind. Some days, the memories are almost too much. The reality that my life isn’t where I wanted it, where I dreamed it would be, hits harder than ever.

It's December, and I’m still able to ride my bike on days like today. But I can feel the winter weather creeping in. Ever since I shattered my back and hip on a mission, I’ve been able to feel the weather changing. The doctors said I was lucky to not have spinal cord damage, but sometimes I wish I hadn’t made it out of that godforsaken country. Coming home has been the worst part. Everywhere I look, there’s a memory of us.

I had to make a run up to another club in Jupiter. They want our club, Shiver of Chaos, to help handle some drug dealers in the area who are selling to kids. Jumper, our sergeant at arms, is at my side, and Grim, one of our enforcers, is bringing up the tail. I’m the acting treasurer, but my real position is secretary of our club. Shiver of Chaos is a bit of a fun name. People who don’t know what a shiver is don’t understand it.

A shiver is a group of great white sharks.

I get lost in my head for a bit as we ride along the winding back highway toward Eastport. Normally, I’d have music blaring through my Bluetooth helmet, but today, I just want to ride in silence. Something feels off. It has since yesterday. When we took off on Saturday, I expected to be home by Monday, but now it’s Tuesday.

My phone broke on Sunday, and I decided not to rush to replace it. I like the peace and quiet. The other guys have phones if the Prez or anyone else needs me.

Jumper signals for me to stop, and we pull over at the next turnout. He swings off his bike and hands me his cell phone.

“Yeah?” I bark into the phone.

I hate being interrupted. I’ve always been this way. I like to plan everything out, and when I’m on a task, I hate switching gears. But mostly, I needed the peace of the road to clear my head. This morning, I woke up seeing her face and feeling her body against mine. It’s a nightmare I hate to relive. One that I loathe. The guys know to stay away from me if I’m grumpy.

“Don’t get pissy with me, asshole. The sheriff and state have been trying to reach you. When I got the call today, they told me that if you don’t show up Thursday at noon at the child services building, you will be ruled ineligible.” Striker’s deep, scratchy voice breaks through the line.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Don’t you check your messages?”

“No. My fucking phone broke.”

“Goddammit, you asshole. Oliver was killed last night.”

The name stops me cold. It’s a blow that almost has me staggering off my bike. I kick the stand down and push myself off. I put some distance between me and the guys before crouching down, facing away from them. I’m going to lose it. My throat’s clogging up, just like it does when I think of her.

He was my last tie to her. He was all I had left of my old life. There were times when I would see him, and I swear I could smell her honeysuckle scent on him. Now, I’ll never have that again. That little hit was like a drug, and I couldn’t stop myself from taking it. I was an addict.

“What about Hartley?” I ask.

I grew up with my best friend, Sam—Oliver’s son. When Sam died, I was still in the military. I came home after graduating from basic training to Sam’s funeral. Hartley, his little boy, was still an infant at the time.

Oliver had waited until I got home to tell me about Sam’s death and that she had left me. No one wanted to contact me while I was at basic. I wonder to this day if she left because he died. I knew they were close, but she loved me. She was supposed to be my wife.

I reach into my front pocket, feeling the ring that sits there every day. It never leaves my side. It’s my constant reminder to never let my heart go there again. To never trust another woman. They are only good for one thing, and I make sure to wet my dick every six months or so. It’s been longer than that recently, but I don’t care.

I don’t need no bitch. I don’t need the drama, having them try to tie themselves to me by becoming my old lady. Nope, don’t need that shit. That ring and the damn book are my reminders.

“Did you hear me?” Striker’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I shake my head to get away from her. Away from the pain of the memories.

“No, what?”

“Hartley is okay. He wasn’t with him. The sheriff is calling it a suicide, but he’s got his second in command running a thorough investigation.”

“Where is Hartley?” I wonder if Wayne has him or if he’s with Trevor. Maybe he’s in a group home. I hope not. I’ve heard how bad those places can be.

“Wayne called me too when he couldn’t reach you. He said the other guardian will pick him up and not to worry about Hartley until he talks to you.”

“Fuck that. I’ll push through and will be there before dark. Striker, do me a favor.” I hate to ask, but I need to know if it’s true. No one will take care of Hartley but me. I owe it to Sam and Oliver.

“Yeah, what?”

“Have your friend do a check for me. I don’t believe Oliver would kill himself.”

Striker, like Gambit, our president, had been in the military too. Both of them were in a dark ops group. They still have connections on the inside, including a computer nerd who could hack the White House, or so I’ve heard.

“I don’t either. You got an idea who would do this?” Striker’s question has me thinking hard. Could she have done this? Is it some kind of revenge? But why?

Like me, Striker grew up in Eastport. We watched our small town transform into a bustling metropolis of crime and drugs. He’s a few years older than me and had already been in the military for a while when Sam died, but he came home for the funeral. Everyone knew Sam. He was the son of a U.S. Marshal and also a football star. No one was a stranger to him. He’s how I met her. She moved in next door to him, and he took her under his wing, like a little sister.

From the moment I met her, she was never like a little sister to me. I knew she was mine. Guess she didn’t believe me, though. After she left, I learned about her attack. I’ve wondered for years if she blamed me for not being there to protect her. If that’s why she ran after Sam was killed in a car accident. She’s never been back. She didn’t even return when her foster parents died in a car accident too. She professed to love a lot but didn’t come back for anyone.

You’d think she would care about Sam’s son. Hartley was left orphaned when his mother got addicted to drugs and overdosed a year after Sam’s death. It’s all so tragic. As I replay everything in my mind, I can’t help but see the bad luck stacking up. There’s too much of it. It’s like someone was strategically getting rid of people, but doing it by accident. Could fate really be that big of a bitch? Is it just a cruel coincidence? Maybe that’s what Striker’s friend should be investigating.

An attack, multiple car accidents, drug overdose, and now suicide. How much can one group go through? What are the odds?

“Have him go wide. Like all the way back to Sam. Maybe this has something to do with Oliver’s past in the Marshals.”

“Want to go back to Bly?” he asks, and hearing her name is like a knife to my heart, twisted and black. It’s been nine years, and I still won’t say or think her name.

“Yeah.”

“Get your ass home. We need to get this figured out.”

Oliver had helped Shiver out several times when we needed it, so we will look into his death too.

“By the way, keep that fucking sheriff away from Hartley,” I growl into the phone.

I know his father was dirty, but I’m not sure about the son. So far, he’s seemed fair. But I don’t trust him. There is something about him I’ve always felt was off, like he’s hiding something. Even in high school, he was just a pretty boy who thought he could get by on his looks and his father’s name. It didn’t help that, even though he was older, he always had his eye on my girl. I didn’t like that. No one was allowed to look at or touch my girl except Sam, and that was only because he thought of her as a sister, nothing more.

“Wayne said he’s blocking the sheriff from questioning him until both guardians approve.” I hear something in his voice, but I ignore it.

“I’m on my way.”

I hang up and hand the phone back to Jumper.

This time when I get on my bike, I’m lost in the memories as I race along the roads toward home.

I remember the day I proposed to her. We were at our favorite beach, and I dropped to one knee. I couldn’t afford much, but I worked my senior year to be able to give her the best. When I slipped the ring on her finger, she looked down at me with those icy blue eyes, her platinum blond hair whipping in the wind. “Yes,” she said, over and over, and I jumped up to kiss her.

We made love in the back seat of my car after I proposed. I needed to seal her to me forever.

I should have married her before I left for basic. The note she sent me was a true Dear John . She said she was too young to get married, tired of living in Eastport, and wanted to move to New York to become a newspaper reporter. She didn’t send back the ring until years later.

The day I got it, I was actually thinking about going to look for her. I had searched everywhere but couldn’t find her. I’d already done a couple of tours overseas, trying to forget her. I’d tried to kill myself over and over on missions. Living life in extremely dangerous ways. Every jump from a plane into enemy territory felt like a chance, but it never happened.

She had her twenty-first birthday, and I missed it. It was like she’d disappeared off the face of the earth. Then, the ring came to my barracks a week later. It was in an envelope with a brief, typed letter. She’d felt I needed it back because she’d moved on.

It broke me. I was done with thinking of her, but I lied to myself. When I was injured and in the hospital, a nurse told me I was calling out for Bly in me sleep. Just thinking of her name hurts.

I smile as my bike glides around a corner. She loved riding behind me. Her foster parents hated it. Even Sam hated it, but I loved how she would giggle and wrap her arms around me. The first time we rode together, I pulled up to her foster parents’ house and Sam stormed out of his house next door.

“Dammit, Reed, you’re not really Buzz Lightyear and she isn’t Jesse. You need to be careful with her and take care of her.” He got right in my face, and for the first time, I thought about hitting him and meaning it. We’d fought before, but never to really hurt each other. He was like my brother. We didn’t need to share blood; we just were.

“I know that. But she’s mine.” I shoved him back. Bly stepped between us, and my hands went to her hips. “Bumblebee, I don’t want you to get hurt.” I pushed her aside, and when he swung at me, I blocked the hit and shoved him back again. It was his father and Bly’s foster dad who stopped us from really going to blows. She was a year younger than my sixteen, and I promised her foster parents that night that I would wait until she was sixteen before letting her back on my bike. And I did.

On her sixteenth birthday, not only did I take her for a ride on my bike, but I popped her cherry and claimed her as mine forever. I guess forever was only until I was out of sight. Sam’s death will always be wrapped around the fact that Bly left me.

“ H em,” the President’s voice cuts through as soon as I pull off my helmet and shut down my bike. “Get your ass in your truck and go get Hartley. I don’t like what’s going down. We owe it to Oliver to protect his grandson.”

Gambit is a big guy. We might be the same height at six one, but he’s wider than me. He’s got an imposing bulk to him that most men won’t challenge. I’m most men, so I just nod and flip my keys around as I head for my truck. He falls in step with me, matching my pace.

“What did you find?”

I’m gritty and dirty from being on the road, but I’ll go get the boy. It’s only seven in the evening. I know Hartley isn’t in bed yet because it’s winter break. But I still don’t know where he is, and I won’t bring him back here to the clubhouse, where chicks are roaming around.

“He’s staying at Trevor’s. He was there when Oliver was killed, spent the night with Trevor’s twins. But my friend, Browser, is finding some interesting shit. For one, Oliver has a safety deposit box that you are named on. Did you know that?”

I stop and face him. In the setting sun, I can see the questions in his blue eyes.

“I didn’t know. He’s never said anything to me about it.”

“Did you also know that the day after Sam died, Oliver was on a plane out of state? He was only gone for a day.”

“That’s when…” I pause, still unable to say her name.

“Your girl.” He finishes the thought for me. “Yeah, about that.”

“She’s not my girl,” I grit out the words and step toward him.

He doesn’t back down. Prez has been on a short leash lately, itching for a fight, and none of us know why. Striker, Cowboy, and Grim step in between us.

“Hey now, boys, no fighting. We need to think of Hartley.” Striker, the club VP, is bigger than both of us. Cowboy is not as big, but Grim is huge. He’s taller than all of us and lifts weights like he’s got nothing else to do.

Cowboy is currently a nomad and has been hanging with our group for a few months now. Grim is used to dealing with me when I get like this.

I hear the bark before I feel my dog slide into the mix. He’s been more than man’s best friend to me, he’s my PTSD dog. After I was out of the hospital, the nightmares from my captivity didn’t go away. That’s when a local organization helped me get Moose. He's been by my side for a year and a half now.

As soon as I feel him press his head to the side of my leg, I start to calm. Anger has been one of my worst traits, and he helps me with that, along with the nightmares. I don’t have panic attacks, but I get so angry I don’t even realize what I’m doing.

I step back and take a deep breath. Everyone else stands down, but I can see in Gambit’s eyes he wanted me to lose control. He wanted the fight. Maybe he needs to spend some time with Moose too.

“Take him to Oliver’s for the night. I’ll send some prospects over to sit on the house and check it over before you get there.” Gambit shakes his head.

I wonder what’s got him so on edge lately. There have been rumors that he’s found himself a woman, but he won’t confirm it. I also know a good friend of his from the military is in a lot of trouble, and he’s been helping her.

“Okay.” I nod at him and open the door so Moose can jump into my pickup. As I close the door, I watch Striker say something to Gambit, who just shrugs, and a funny look crosses his face.

I need to get Hartley before more shit can go down.

Blythe

T he plane touches down, and I wait for the doors to open. Nervously, I pull lint from my clothes and slide my hands down my skirt, pressing out the wrinkles. Looking through the window, I see the sedan waiting for me. Standing at the door is the man who’s been there for me every step of the way over the past nine years. He helped hide me, was there when I graduated from college, celebrated with me when I got my full-time job, and cheered me on with every award I’ve received as a reporter. He was with me for every surgery I went through, and he held my hand as I learned to talk about what I went through.

When the doors open, I step out and try to give him a tentative smile, but the tears start. I move down the stairs toward him. It’s been about six months since I last saw him. He’s gotten greyer in his dark hair, but he’s still handsome at fifty-one. His big body pushes off the car, and he takes me in a big hug. I’ve always felt the love he feels for me. He never married or had kids. I’m the closest he’s ever had to a family, and I was seventeen when he took me in.

“Hello, beautiful. Love you.”

“Hello, Dad.” I force out the chuckle through the tears. He knows I’m just trying to forget why I’m here.

Calling him Dad has been part of my cover, but it’s also turned into a joke between us. He jokes all the time that he never thought he was father material until I came along and made him a girl dad. When he finally releases me, he grabs my bag from the crew and puts it in the trunk.

“Come on. I have a condo set up for you. I called in a favor from a friend at the practice. It’s a rental that one of his clients normally uses, but he said it’s available for you. It’s in a new, secure building, and it’ll be safer for you than a hotel. We’ll get you a car in the next couple of days too. This year, you get to spend the holidays with me here.”

“Okay.” Normally, he comes out to see me when he can.

I slide into the passenger seat and pull my seat belt across my body, finally looking at what was my hometown. It’s no longer small, though even back then it was growing. As Wayne drives, I see the new, larger hospital and the skyscrapers. Some of them were being built before I left, but now there are more. Another huge structure proclaims that it’s the future home of the Eastport Ravagers hockey team. There are box stores and several outlet malls.

“Eastport isn’t a small fishing town anymore.”

“Nope. It’s a metropolis now, rivaling Providence in size.”

“A hockey team?”

“Yeah, we’ll see. The owner of the team is dealing with some medical complications. If his son comes home to take over, it will help. We could use it.”

Moving through the edges of downtown, we pass the old brick structures—factories, canneries, and more. Some are dark, others are thriving. A brand-new nightclub is under construction. As we drive through what’s now called the Art district, I spot a bakery being built and then a tattoo parlor. I love where the town is headed and wish I could have been here to see the transformation.

“Weren’t you and Erika Arnold friends? You knew her brother too, right?” he asks.

The memories crash through my mind, and I think of Erika. She was another of my best friends. She was very artsy and wanted to go to art school.

“Yeah.” My voice cracks as I think about hurting her too. I remember Leif was older than Sam, but Erika graduated with him.

“They’ve done most of this. Leif made a lot of money a few years ago and started buying up the old industrial park buildings, converting them into businesses. They are on trend now.”

I turn to smile at him before looking out the window again. I notice we are heading toward one of the neighborhoods that was upper-class when I was in high school. The lawns are large, with big lots and huge houses. Some of the homes sit on the cliffside, overlooking the bay.

“Where are you taking me?” I turn to look at him again, trying to pull myself out of my thoughts about everything I’ve missed.

“I thought you’d want to see Hartley right away. I’ve arranged for you to get him for the next few nights before you meet with the caseworker on Friday.”

“Thank you. Yes, I want to get to him and make sure he’s safe.” I start to settle, knowing I’ll have him close by and won’t have to worry about him.

“I assured her you were stable, that you wouldn’t have him in a hotel and that he knew you. Also, the Deputy Chief Sheriff wants to speak to you. I’ve tried to get him to wait a couple of days, but I can’t guarantee anything with him.”

I think about the fact that I’ve had to watch Hartley grow from a distance, always through Wayne, or when I would meet Oliver and Hartley on vacations. We made it look like we didn’t travel together or at the same time. They never came to Seattle. Instead, I met them at places like Disneyland and Disney World, once in San Diego, and more recently Hawaii. These were all spots no one would guess Oliver was meeting with me, just in case.

I hate that I could have put them in danger, but Oliver and Wayne both felt I needed it after everything else I lost or gave up. I needed some kind of family stability. Even though Wayne tried, he couldn’t always be there for me.

“I want you there if Hartley’s questioned. I don’t trust that department,” I say.

“I will be. Are you ready to start?” He doesn’t have to clarify what he means. I know what he’s asking.

“Yes.” I don’t elaborate further. The less said about the plan, the better. It’s for his protection. No one will know he’s involved too. I’ve done my best to scrub myself from everything, using some of the techniques Briar taught me.

We pull into a driveway with a ball hockey net set up with a trampoline on the lawn. Bikes are scattered across the driveway, forcing Wayne to dodge them. This is a house made for kids. I wonder if I’ll have to consider getting us a home like this too.

“Before you get out, he knows only that Oliver died, not how. Also, we need to decide if you are going to take him back or not. There’s a second guardian listed who hasn’t returned my phone calls yet, but you’ll meet them at your meeting with the caseworker. There are stipulations to your guardianship for both you and the other party,” he says in one breath.

The front door opens, and a handsome man steps out. A faint memory flashes, but I can’t place him at first. I’m too focused on the way Wayne kept saying “other party.” I’m really concerned now. I look between Wayne and the guy.

I open my door and shift my body, letting my heels hit the driveway before I stand up. I make sure the slit of my skirt doesn’t show too much leg.

The man takes me in, his eyes moving over my body. I don’t feel anything, and when he walks forward, I have another moment of déjà vu. I watch as a beautiful dark-haired woman steps out behind him. She stays back, just watching us.

“Hello, you might not remember me. I’m Trevor Myer.” His voice is like a sledgehammer to my memories, and it hits me instantly. I reach for the car, gripping the hood for support. “Whoa, are you okay?” Trevor moves to my side and takes my other hand. It takes everything in me not to pull it away. It’s him, the voice from the night the old Blythe died. The woman is now beside us too.

“Is she okay, love?” she asks Trevor.

“I remember you.” I push back the tears and hold my head high. I’m stronger now. I give the woman a limp smile, then look at him again.

“It’s okay,” he says and steps back as another vehicle pulls in behind us.

I turn to see a lifted, blacked-out truck. It’s grown darker out, and the headlights are on. I can’t make out the driver.

“Fuck,” Trevor says. “Emmy, go back by the house. This might not be good.”

“Why?” she asks, and I’m distracted from his answer when Wayne blows up.

“What the fuck? I told him to call me,” Wayne exclaims and heads toward the truck.

“Auntie Bly,” Hartley yells, and I turn to see him flying out of the house. He’s tall for a nine-year-old. His blond hair reminds me of his father, and just like every time I see him, it’s a punch to the gut how much I miss Sam.

He plows into me and holds me tight. I’m glad Trevor is standing close enough to catch me, because Hartley almost knocks me off my heels. He starts crying, and I can tell he’s been holding them in when I look over to see the pity in Trevor’s and Emmy’s eyes. I crouch down and hug him back. He clings to me, and I do the same. It’s been so long since I just held someone, and I realize I like being touched by him. I’d do anything for him. Even if it means coming back here or going to prison to make sure he’s safe. He’s mine now.