“You’re having lunch with your sisters today?” Copper asked me as he poured a cup of coffee for us.
Holt ran up to him and yanked on his pants, and the small cup that he fixed for Holt every morning—cooled down by a single ice cube—was sitting on the counter next to him.
He liked to be like his mama and daddy—more so like Copper than me—and that meant coffee like the rest of us.
Webber came in moments later, looking flustered.
“What?” I asked as I took a sip of my coffee.
I’d been off the antidepression meds for half a year now, and I felt as good as new.
The blackness no longer took me over. I no longer worried that I wouldn’t be a good parent. I no longer wondered what would be the point in waking up the next day.
In the place of all those bad thoughts were new, better, more exciting thoughts.
Like, what was I going to decorate my new office in?
I had two of them to choose from, and I used both.
Though, the one at Copper’s actual office wasn’t all to myself. It was shared with the love of my life.
But I did decorate my corner, and I did it in bright colors because they made me happy.
“Did you hear?” Webber asked.
“Hear what?” I asked.
“The news about Joey,” Webber said. “Turns out, he decided to move when he got out of prison.”
Speaking of Joey, he’d gotten a year in prison and three years of probation.
I guessed when you only threatened to kill someone, it didn’t require a life sentence.
That’d pissed off both Copper and me—as well as the rest of the club—but we didn’t lose sleep over it.
Though, when he’d gotten out yesterday, Copper had met him at the prison walls and told him in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t be living in the state of Texas anymore. If he was going to live anywhere, it would be thousands and thousands of miles away from me and Holt.
Copper watched Joey buy a bus ticket as a matter of fact—at least, that was what he told me.
I didn’t ask if he’d done anything more.
I tried to give Joey as little space in my brain as possible.
“Is that right?” Copper asked.
Webber rolled his eyes. “You helped him come to that decision, I’m guessing.”
Copper shrugged. “It was either that, or kill him. He chose the easy option.”
Webber snorted. “Well, now that you know about that, how about y’all tell me what the hell I’m going to do about my daughter going to prom with a biker.”
I giggled. “A biker, eh? From which club?”
“One from Uncertain, Texas. His daddy was a Saint.”
“Fuck,” Copper grumbled.
“What’s wrong with a Saint?” I asked.
