“I’m not supposed to be giving you food,” he says, frowning in a terrifying way. “I’m not supposed to go out to see you while the lockdown happens. I promised Bronco I wouldn’t. He won’t understand.”
“I can go back.”
“No,” he growls in a deep voice that makes me fear him for the first time.
“Why?”
“I need you to be safe.”
Hugging him, I rest my head on his wide chest. “Don’t worry. You are a ray of sunshine. You told me that the Bronco man is the one who gave you a home. Be honest with him.”
Anders’s face gets really grumpy, making him look like a baby that needs to sleep. “You don’t understand how things work.”
“No, you don’t understand how things work,” I insist, squeezing him tighter. “You live in a big house by yourself. You have all this stuff but no food. I think you’re confused. I’m not confused. You should call Bronco.”
“And if he won’t help your family?”
Thinking of Mama looking for me, I imagine her fear at the sight of those dead men. Will she be scared to see the big hole in Myles’s face? Will she believe Anders did the same to me?
“Is Bronco a bad man like John Marks?” I ask Anders, who now paces around the center part of the kitchen.
“No, but he told me the rules, and I broke them.”
When Anders spoke of Bronco by the road, I could tell he admired the other man. Now, he seems afraid of him. Will Bronco hurt Anders? Or is he afraid of disappointing the man he respects?
Thirsty, I stick my mouth under the sink and turn it on. Anders grumbles about how he fucked up. Then he gives me a can of soda like the kind I see people drink in town. Trying the sweet liquid, I watch him play with his phone.
Soon, he returns to pacing around the room. Every few minutes, he stops and stares at me. Then, he paces again.
After the sugar-filled drink, I feel so excited. I want to climb, but there are no trees. I jump on the couch and walk around up high. Clapping my hands, I don’t know why I feel so awake. I should worry about Mama, Dove, and Future. Though burdened by their fates, I’m also so happy. I want to jump on the chairs and touch the ceiling. I’m so amazed by all the new stuff around me that I nearly forget Anders is nearby.
At some point, two dark-haired biker men enter the house. Now, Anders looks more nervous than ever. My grand sequoia needs a hug, but he’s so far away, and I can’t calm down. I think the soda is made out of smiles and hugs. I feel happier than ever!
The men talk to each other and me, but their words hold little meaning. I want to climb higher. I also need to make Anders feel better. My grand sequoia craves a hug.
I climb onto his back, wanting to make him smile. But he refuses to give up his frown. The other men—Bronco with no beard and Lowell with a dark one—wear the same foul expressions. That’s when I realize they won’t save Mama, Dove, and Future. These biker men belong to the outside world, where no one cares unless you make them.
And I have no way to make anyone do anything.
ANDERS
Bronco is pissed at me. The Executioners’ VP is angry too, but Lowell isn’t the one who’ll throw me out of the club or put a bullet in my head. Bronco knows I owe him. I didn’t follow the rules with Pixie. I’m in deep shit. No getting around that.
But I’m mostly worried about Pixie. That soda she drank made her hyper-as-fuck. And I think she also realizes her family might not survive what happened today. During one visit on the side of the road, Pixie claimed death wasn’t scary.
“We get to go to our next story,” she explained, smiling despite the topic.
On an average day, I bet her Dandelion training holds perfectly. Yet, grief is still grief. Her papa went to his next story, but her pain remains. Now, she fears her family will be wiped out. All because she helped me.
I never had any family worth missing. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand the terror she’s feeling. For the last few months, I’ve dreaded something happening to her. If I lost Pixie, I wasn’t sure how I’d keep getting up every day.
Now, she’s in my house. I’ve dreamed of bringing her here since that first day. She can be my honey—what the club’s wives call themselves. I can experience what the other men do.
Except Pixie keeps looking around as if everything bothers her. She stomps on the furniture and keeps eyeing the door. I don’t know if she wants free of this place or me. No, she’s probably just worried about her family.
“I’m so used to people running from me that I don’t know what to do when they stay,” I mutter after Bronco and Lowell leave.
Pixie climbs on the dining room table and lets out a wild roar. At first, I think she’s playing. Then her dark eyes find my face, and she exhales like a bull ready to attack.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” I mumble, watching her thin body get wound up with anger.
“I want to go home!”
“I can’t take you back.”
Screaming, Pixie jumps up and down on the table. I hurry over to catch her if she takes a tumble. Instead, she looks ready to punch me.
“I know how people in the world are,” she says, swinging her fist like a little girl. “I can be a demon and hit you.”
“What’s that going to do?”
Pixie’s furious frown changes to a more confused one. “I don’t know. How does it usually work?”
“You can hit me, but I still won’t take you back,” I explain, and her usually smiling lips turn into
