When I'm With You (Little Hollow Series, #2)(32)

I walk across the parking lot and nod across at Frankie and Grinder talking by their bikes, then I peel out the lot. I make it to my childhood home in ten minutes and steel myself to walk in there, I don’t come back here often.

The memories of my mom assault me as soon as I kick the stand on my bike down.

She chuckles and wipes at my chin with a tissue as my ice cream drips down onto it.

“What we gonna do with you, huh?” She asks, tickling me.

I pull away nearly dropping my cone. “Mooommm, stoooppp.”

“You’re nine years old, I will not stop babying you just yet,” she says with a smile on her face. “When did you get so independent?”

My pop comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing her swollen belly. “Leave the kid alone, Arlene, you’ll have another one to baby before long.”

She looks at me with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Oh I know, Trent, I just…”

“I know, baby,” he says soothingly, placing a kiss on her neck. “But he’s gotta grow up sometime.”

She sighs as I finish my last bite and she hands me the tissue. “I just don’t want to let him go yet.”

My mom had such a beautiful nature, she was always there for any of us when we needed her, and she made my pop soft. He loved her more than anything and when she got sick three years ago, he’d stepped down as Pres so he could have more time to look after her.

She died a year later. The big C.

I shake the memories off and make my way up the steps to pull open the screen door and push down the handle of the front door.

“Pop? It’s me,” I call out into the house, but I don’t hear anything. “Pop?”

I round the corner into the kitchen-diner and stop short. Him and Pres are sitting at the table and I have to stop my fists from clenching at their ambush.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Pres?” I ask, sitting down in the chair opposite him, my pop sat at the head of the table between us.

He narrows his eyes at me and I have to remind myself about what my pop said yesterday, I need him on my side.

“I asked your pop to call you here to get you away from the clubhouse, you caused quite the shitstorm yesterday, Bear.”

He steeples his hands in front of him.

“Yeah, about that… I shouldn’t have blindsided you, and I’m sorry for causing a rift between the brother’s.” I pause and then say, “But I’m not sorry I put my name forward.”

He taps his chin with both hands. “If you have trouble with the way we run this club, you come bring it up with us privately, you don’t go putting on a show in front of every brother. You’ve been in this life long enough to know that,” he grinds out.

“And If I’d thought you’d listen to me, I wouldn’t have done what I did yesterday in church.” I try to keep my voice calm.

Pop’s gives me a steely look.

“Boy,” he practically growls.

I throw up my hands in a defensive stance.

“Any grievances come directly to me, you understand that?” Tank, the almighty Pres states, trying to intimidate me.

In his heyday, he was probably formidable, but right now, after everything he’s done, I only see him clutching at straws, trying to stay in power and it makes it hard to take him seriously.

I look between my pop and him and nod my head. “Got it, so while I have you here-”

“Not now, Bear, I have club business that doesn’t involve you. Snake, you coming?”

“Yeah I’ll be there in a minute,” he says, not taking his eyes off me.

When Pres leaves, pop scrapes his chair back. “Did you not listen to a word I said last night? You’re on his shit list, Bear, watch out,” he warns, and walks out of the room, leaving me to question what he meant.

I run my hands through my longish on top hair and look around the kitchen. Images of baking with my mom wash over me and I can’t help but remember Tank’s daughter, Keeley, being in most of my childhood memories. She was always over here at one time or another.

Her childhood was sketchy. Tank and Kirsten, Keeley’s mom and dad, didn’t have the sort of relationship that my mom and dad had. My dad met mom when she was waitressing at a local restaurant, typical boy meets girl and falls in love, he made her his Old Lady not long after and that was them.

Kirsten however, started out as a club broad. I used to hear my pop and Tank talk about her all the time. She came to the club looking for refuge and Tank knew she was different the moment he laid eyes on her, but their relationship turned sour about four years after they had Keeley, and he didn’t know why. She started drinking heavily, and Keeley was left to pick up the pieces as her dad was never there for her. I guess you could say our house was a sort of sanctuary for her, she used to crawl into bed with me at night when we were younger, saying she felt safe when she was with me. She was always a strong girl even though her childhood probably should’ve beaten her down.

I kick back my chair and push out the back door needing some fresh air. No one could blame her for the way she turned out, for rebelling. I guess you could even say it was Tank’s fault for what happened, I just wish he hadn’t chose to do what he did. It made me feel like a traitor as I drove her to get a car and told her to get the fuck out of here.

I didn’t know what I believed at the time, but I wasn’t going to let them hurt her like I knew they would’ve.