Own the Wind (Chaos, #1)(88)

“Like usual, not payin’ a lick of attention,” Shy returned.

“Really?” she asked sarcastically. “Oh. Right. In the circles you run, threatening middle-of-the-night visits are probably mandatory.”

“No, but when they happen, they’re fun,” Shy replied casually.

She snorted.

“Ellen just, please, go get him a bag,” his uncle cut in.

She threw his uncle a look and stomped out.

Shy dropped his eyes to his boots.

“Is there something that prompted this evening’s visit, Parker?” his uncle asked, and Shy looked to him.

“Yes,” he answered.

His uncle waited. Shy was quiet.

The man tried something else, “Landon home safe?”

“Yes,” Shy stated but said no more.

“Well, thank God for that.”

Shy didn’t reply.

His uncle lifted a hand his way. “Son, I—”

“Save it,” Shy bit out and he shut his mouth.

Seconds slid by.

Then his uncle tried again. “Maybe, with your aunt not there, we should find a time to sit down and talk.”

“And maybe that’s never gonna happen,” Shy returned. “Maybe I like it better knowin’ that my brother’s a soldier, a brave man, puttin’ his ass on the line for this country. Maybe I like knowin’ that I got a woman, gettin’ a house, and soon we’re gonna make a family. Maybe I like knowin’ that you know that you had not one thing to do with the good that’s in us, the good that came to us, the good we deserve, the good we’re gonna make. Maybe I like knowin’ that you know that we had to escape this prison in order to carve out that goodness. Maybe I like knowin’ that your kids don’t give one shit about you because they think you’re as weak as I do, and they only have time for their mother because they know she’ll give them shit they ask for.”

His uncle’s eyes flashed and Shy knew his aim was true.

“Bet those *s don’t even send birthday cards,” Shy continued.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought on things, you boys gone, and—”

“Don’t care what you thought when we were gone,” Shy interrupted him. “The time for you to think and f*ckin’ act was when we were f*ckin’ here.”

He watched his uncle close his eyes in defeat as he heard his aunt coming back down the hall. Shy moved to the door, stopping and turning to his uncle.

“Last, and best and it isn’t a maybe, it’s a definite. I like knowin’ you’ll finish your life at her side. You deserve that shit. And that’s what it is that anyone gets from her. That’s all she’s got to give. Shit.”

He heard his aunt gasp in affront, turned back to the door as she slid in, careful with her body like being too close to him would rub off criminal vibes and she’d be arrested on the spot.

He reached out a hand, yanked the bag out of hers, opened it, looked inside, and counted boxes.

When he needed to move some to keep count, he reached in, and she snapped, “They’re all there.”

Shy looked at her then to his uncle. “They aren’t, another visit.”

Then, without looking at either of them again, he walked right the f*ck out.

*

He rode home feeling something he didn’t get, something he hadn’t felt, not once, not in sixteen years.

He realized what it was when he got to Tab’s apartment and saw her electric blue car shining in the streetlamps illuminating the parking lot.

He felt free.

The feeling was overpowering, suffusing him, forcing everything else out and allowing him nothing but that.

Feeling free.

Fucking free.

He swung off his bike, jogged to the stairs, took them two at a time and turned the handle on the door. He knew by the light coming out the bottom it wouldn’t be locked.

It wasn’t.

He walked in and saw her curled into herself on the couch.

She shot to her feet the instant she saw him. Her eyes on him, her expression concerned, cautious, even scared, she whispered, “Shy.”

He closed the door, turned, locked it, and then turned back to her.

Free.

He was free.

He thought his brothers gave him that, and they did.

At the same time, they didn’t.

True freedom came from Tabby.

He stalked toward her.

“Bedroom,” he growled. “Take your clothes off on your way.”

Her body jerked but other than that she didn’t move.

He rounded the armchair, positioning to herd her to get her on her way to where he wanted her to go, and when he was a foot away, she stumbled then started backing up.

“Bedroom and clothes off, Tabby.”

“Shy, I… what…?” Her head tipped to the side as he rounded her wide and changed her direction, aiming her down the hall. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“You aren’t taking your clothes off.”

She licked her lip and Jesus, he was hanging on by a thread.

“Clothes, Tabby,” he growled, rounding her wide again to move her to the bedroom.

He moved her through the bedroom doorway and she stopped when the backs of her legs hit bed.

Shy stopped too.