“Ron, come meet my brother,” she called.
Ronnie climbed out; his shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath.
Ava risked a glance toward the two Dogs beside her, and saw them wearing identical smirks. She kicked Aidan in the shin before Ronnie got around the tailgate, then pasted a wide smile to her face. She reached for his hand when he drew up alongside her, pulled him in closer to her.
“Ronnie” – her voice was artificially sweetened – “this is my brother, Aidan, and his best friend, Tango. Boys” – a sharp glance between the two – “this is my boyfriend” – little squeeze for Ron’s hand – “Ronnie.”
“Boyfriend,” Aidan repeated. He pushed his shades up into his hair and gave Ronnie a narrow-eyed up/down look. “For how long?”
“Almost a year.” Ava felt Ronnie’s palm grow damp against hers. She knotted her fingers through his.Be brave, she willed.He’s not that scary.
Aidan put his tongue against the inside of his cheek, an old childhood gesture he’d never outgrown. His thinking face, she called it. He glanced at her. “Do the folks know?”
So that’s how he’d play it, then: let Dad be the bad guy and reserve the right to trounce Ronnie if he so much as slipped up. Sneak attack style.
Sometimes, Ava wondered if that was his true nature, or if he just thought that was how one-percenter big brothers were supposed to act.
“Mom knows.” She kicked her chin up. “She can’t wait to meet him.”
Aidan scratched at the stubble on his chin and looked like he hid a smile. “Oh, I bet.”
She glared at him.Stop being an ass.
His eyes laughed back at her.Try and make me.
Tango, deciding to be the buffer, as he’d always been, stepped between them, and extended a hand to Ronnie. “Good to meet you, man.”
Ronnie, his always smiling mouth tucked down at the corners, regarded Tango’s tattooed fingers a moment too long before he finally accepted the shake. “Yeah. You too.”
Tango noticed the snub, the reticence. He sent Ava a dancing glance that suggested he’d have plenty to say about all this later.
But he said, “The girls are inside, getting ready.”
Ava let out a deep, suddenly-exhausted exhale. “Good. I’m sure they could use my help.”
Aidan dug a crumpled pack of smokes from his back pocket. “Ronnie, what do you know about hanging crepe streamers?”
“Later, guys,” Ava said, firmly, one last scowl for her brother. She tugged at Ronnie’s hand, and started for the clubhouse door.
“I’m sorry about him,” she whispered. “He won’t ever get over the fact that I’m not twelve anymore.”
Ronnie didn’t respond.
The line of bikes, she noticed as they walked, had been reinforced. Out of town members had come for tonight’s celebration; by the end of the night, at least four chapters would be in attendance.
With her free hand, she shaded her eyes against the slanting sunlight, and thought she spotted a familiar bike. One that didn’t belong to any of the Knoxville guys, but one she knew well. One she’d been on the back of more times than she could count…
“Oh, hey,” Aidan called from behind her.
She paused and half-turned. “What?”
Aidan’s expression lost its teasing aggression and became serious, unusually so. “NOLA’s in the house.”
New Orleans. The city that was the birthplace, former and current home of…
She sucked in a breath through her teeth, unprepared for the sudden ferocious stab of pain in her belly. The hurt that came spilling out of her heart and began to boil in her insides. Heartbreak was never cured; it just went into remission. And here it came roaring back, leaving her feverish and weak and unable to move in the bright afternoon sun.
It took her three tries before she wet her lips and said, “So what do I care?”
