It was a nice fantasy.
Was it possible?
You can't change who you are.
"On the other hand," Crunch said. "If we ditched everything, it would mean Mad Dog gets away with killing Tank..." His voice trailed off.
Back to reality.
"If we take care of Mad Dog, you know what that means," I said.
"War."
"Mad Dog started it."
"We just need to figure out if we're willing to finish it," Crunch said.
Inferno Motorcycle Club
Los Angeles, California
“The three men killed were our brothers," Mad Dog said. "Tank, Axe, and Crunch were our family. We will never forget them. And we will avenge their deaths."
Mad Dog looked meaningfully at Mud from across the room. Mud knew what that look was about. It meant that Mad Dog was finished with his tearful speech about brotherhood and loss, and was ready to get down to business. He nudged Tink and Fats.
"In the back," Mud whispered.
One at a time, the three backed away from the gathering of club members, who were busy drinking and regaling each other with stories.
Toasting their fallen brothers.
It was a spontaneous, informal memorial service of sorts, a reaction to the news reports of the bodies discovered in Benicio's warehouse. The brothers were angry. They wanted blood. And it happened in Benicio's warehouse, which meant Benicio was involved. It was a new day for Mad Dog.
In the back room, Mad Dog gathered his allies.
“Now,” he said. “Axe was one of the closest people in the world to me. I considered him like family, and I meant every word of what I said out there. It pained me to have to get rid of him, but he was in the way. So, understand that if I erased him, I would not hesitate to do the same to any of you who cross me. This is your only warning. You won’t get a second one.”
“Understood, Prez,” Mud said. “You have our undivided loyalty.”
“Good,” Mad Dog said. “Now, onto the business at hand. The Veep is still gone, but he’ll be back soon.”
“Has anyone been in contact with him?” Fats asked.
Mad Dog shook his head. “He’s off the grid. On his honeymoon.” He rolled his eyes. “Overseas- told us he was going to Mexico, but I wouldn’t put it past him to tell us he was going one place and go another. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s out of contact, and he will be back.”
“You have a plan, Prez?” Tink asked.
Mad Dog smiled, the expression not a pleasant one. “Of course I do. He needs to be dealt with. But we need to play this right. We can't afford any fuck-ups."
June
"Hey, June." Stan waved as he came walking up to the deck. Bailey ran out to greet him, and he bent over to pat her. Satisfied, she ran off to sniff the yard.
I waved back, my paintbrush in hand. "Good morning."
"This place is really coming along nicely," he said. "It's shaping up real well. I saw you out here working on the porch, and thought I’d stop by and see if you needed any help with the house.”
“Oh, things are going fine here,” I said. “I won’t say no to help with the sealing, if you want to give me a hand. But don’t you have other things to do?”
Stan shrugged. “Cade and Joe went into town to run an errand, and honestly, between the two of them, they’ve got everything on the ranch caught up. April and MacKenzie are napping, and I didn't want to disturb them. I was just sitting on the front porch having a cup of coffee, and saw you out here. I couldn’t just watch while you worked on the porch.”
“Well, here you go then.” I handed him a paintbrush. “You’re more than welcome to help.”
We painted in silence for a while, before Stan spoke. "I just can't tell you how glad I am that you came back to West Bend, June."
"That's nice of you to say." I moved along the porch railing, the rhythmic movement of the paintbrush soothing.
"It's the truth," Stan said. "It's selfish of me, and I'll admit it. I know Cade and Crunch's family are back here due to trouble, but having all of you back here has made me the happiest I've been since Molly died."
"It's nice to have family around."
Stan bent over, painting the underside of the porch railing. "Having a kid around again," he said. "It's like stepping back in time. Back to when you all were kids. I always considered you like - well, I'd say like a daughter, but then that makes it sound weird, since you and Cade used to date."
I laughed. "No, it's not weird," I said. "I know what you mean. I always thought of you and Molly fondly."
"I've always been real proud of you, too, June. When I'd heard you became a Navy doctor and all."
It was funny, hearing that from Stan didn't rub me the same way it did when Jed said it. When Stan said it, I felt warm, happy.
"June," he said. "I'm sorry if I stirred things up between you and Cade."
I had to turn away to hide a smile. There it was, the reason he'd come over. All the pretense, in order to apologize.
He and Cade were cut from the same cloth.
"It's okay, Stan," I said. "You didn't stir up anything."
"Now, I know that's not true," he said. "And I insulted you, implying that you'd be talking to a cop about Crunch and his family."
I shook my head. "It was really okay, Stan."
"That's good to hear," he said. "I wouldn't want to have wanted to stir things up with the two of you."
I was beginning to realize that Stan was as bad as one of the old ladies down at the hair salon, meddling in my personal life. I couldn't tell if he was trying to get Cade and I together, or warn me off of him.
Stan studied me carefully. “I fought in ‘Nam. I drifted for a while when I came back, was a little lost there for a bit. Got mixed up in some bad stuff.”
“What happened to change things for you?”
“Meeting Cade's mother is what happened to me,” Stan said. “She gave me a reason to live, a reason to get my head out of my ass.”
I walked over to the bucket, dipped my brush in the paint, returned to the porch. I didn't have a response for that. Was he comparing Cade and I to him and Molly?
Stan waited a while before he spoke again. "I've seen the way Cade looks at you. It's the same way I used to look at his mother."
“What?” My voice caught in my throat. No, that wasn’t right. Stan was mistaken. Cade did not have feelings for me. “But – but you’re the one who warned me away from him. When he first got here.”
Stan nodded. “I was wrong to say that.”
No.
I was not Cade's savior.
We did not belong together.
When I didn't respond, Stan finished his piece of the railing in silence, then wiped his hands on his jeans. "How would you feel about taking a ride tomorrow?"
"Me?" I asked. "Stan, I haven't been on a horse in years. I haven't ridden since I left West Bend."
Stan nodded. "I know you haven't, June. We took Sassy for you. She only passed on a couple years ago, right after Molly died. She was a gorgeous horse."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Sassy was just a colt when I'd left here. I'd bought her with my savings, two years worth of summer earnings before my parents would agree to chip in and let me buy her. Cade had helped me train her, the whole year before I’d left West Bend. I’d been raised around horses, sitting on the back of horses before I could ride a bicycle, but Sassy was special because she was entirely mine. When I’d had to leave her behind, I was devastated. I’d lost everything, and to lose her too, was too much.
"I know," I said. "My aunt mentioned it. I'm really grateful."
"You know she had a colt," Stan said.
"She did?" No, I didn't know.
"Yep," he said.
"I haven't been able to ride, Stan," I said. "I don't even know if I can anymore."
And I'd only even gone near the barn once since I'd been back here, too. To yell at Cade.
Stan nodded. "A mare,"
he said. "We named her Missy. She's that blue roan over there by the water trough. You should come by tomorrow and we'll get you saddled up."
"I don't know, Stan,"
"What's that old cliché?" Stan asked. "Get back in the saddle and all that?"
I couldn't tell if we were still just talking about riding.
"I'm calling in a favor," Stan said. "My back's been acting up lately, and riding out to the ridge to check on cattle is starting to get tough on me. Now, I was thinking that I might be able to have you ride out sometimes, when my back's real bad."
I narrowed my eyes. Stan looked just fine to me.
Stan set his paintbrush down, walked toward the porch steps. "If you wouldn't mind helping out an old man, I'd be mighty appreciative," he said as he started walking down the steps. "Time to get back on the horse."
I sighed. Stan had a way of making it so you couldn't say no.
I slipped a ratty tee shirt over my head and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, tucking the stubborn wayward strands behind my ears. Sliding my cowboy boots on, I looked at myself in the mirror. My arms were already tan from working on the house outside in the sun, and my face was starting to develop a rosy glow it lacked when I moved back here from Chicago, where I’d been inside the majority of the time. I was looking more and more like a local, and surprisingly quickly. It almost looked like I'd never left this place.
Inside the barn, my heart raced. It had been a lifetime since I'd ridden. I felt simultaneously thrilled and terrified. What if I couldn't remember how to ride?
Stan was standing outside the stall, tying off a lead rope. "Afternoon, June."
I heard Missy neigh, and I realized I felt just as skittish as she sounded. "I don't know, Stan. Maybe it's not the greatest idea."
"Come on over and meet her," he said. "She's been waiting for you."
"Hey there, girl." I ran my hand along Missy's face, then down her neck, listening to her heavy breathing and the swish of her tail. I breathed in deeply, the smell of the barn that had been so familiar in my youth. Standing there now was like taking a step back in time.
I didn't expect the flood of memories that came rushing back.
~ ~ ~
My sister tossed her head back, long blonde hair falling in curls down her shoulders, nudged the horse with her foot, and I watched her take off at a canter.
"Wait, Abby!" I called. I was still nervous, unsure of myself, afraid I would fall.
"Come, on, silly! You'll have to keep up, June! Ride!"
I felt a gnawing in the pit of my stomach, the feeling of fear. I was six, not new to riding, by any means, but my older sister was always wanting to go faster, jump the horses, take more risks.
"The horse will know you're afraid, June," Abby had said to me, over and over again. "You have to act like you're not. Act like you're brave."
~ ~ ~
Act like you're brave.
As we saddled her up and led her outside, my heart thumped wildly in my chest. I can do this, I told myself. You never forget how to ride.
I took a deep breath, willing my heart rate to slow down, and climbed on top of the horse's back. Sitting tall in the saddle, I inhaled deeply, letting the feeling of sitting astride a horse again sink into me.
Okay, so Stan was right. It did feel pretty good to be back in the saddle.
Stan stood beside the horse. "Look at that," he said. "Like you've been riding every day for the last twenty years."
Abby would be proud. No, I thought, she would be up my ass for not riding for all these years, calling me a chickenshit and laughing at me.
I missed her.
And I missed riding.
"Why don't you try a short ride right around here, something to get your feet wet?" he asked. So I tried it, just around the property until my heart stopped beating its objections wildly in my chest. When Stan gently suggested I go for a longer ride, I was ready.
I rode away from the house at a gentle pace, savoring the feeling of riding again. It started to feel less awkward and more natural as my body remembered how to ride, my movements syncing up with the mare's. I lost myself in the ride, drawing in deep breaths of the mountain air. The landscape fell out before me, hills rising in green grass as far out as I could see, meeting the horizon, the sky this weird mixture of blue and grey. It was a storm sky - that's what my mother called it, anyway.
I missed her too.
I loved this place, loved the land, loved growing up here. It was a part of me that I couldn't escape, no matter where I went. Years ago, I had thought that was the worst thing in the world, when I tried to leave my past behind and start over, divorced from the painful reminders of everything that had happened here. Now, I was beginning to realize that when something was so much an integral part of you, you could never let it go.
Maybe that's why I was having such a hard time getting Cade out of my head.
When I was older, after I'd gotten over my fear in middle school and high school, riding became a high for me. It was freeing, gave me space when I wanted to be alone. When I rode across the hills here, I remember thinking that this was the closest experience in the world to flying.
It must be how Cade felt riding his motorcycle.
I passed the grove of aspen trees. They were bigger now, but the grove was still there, untouched, just like it had been when I was younger. The sight of the trees triggered a memory of Cade and I, out here in the summer evening, so strong that it was like it had happened yesterday. A memory of my first time, with Cade.
~ ~ ~
His finger under my chin, Cade tilted my head up toward his. He looked down at me, his expression clouded with lust. I melted into him, my lithe body, taut from running track and swimming, pressed up against his. I could feel his chest, hard under my fingertips, muscled from wrestling and working on his dad’s ranch. My heart beat fast, so fast I thought I might have a heart attack. I was eager and completely terrified. Cade and I had gotten as far as second base before, but never this far. I’d never gotten this far with anyone before, and I knew tonight was the night. I wanted to go all the way, and I wanted to go all the way with Cade. He was the one.
Cade whispered in my ear. “I love you, Junebug.”
“I love you, Cade.” I felt his hand slid down my waist, to the hem of my tee-shirt, and he pulled it up over my head.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. His lips pressed against mine, and he kissed me, tentatively, his lips matching the hesitant movements of his hands over my shoulders, down my arms, then to the tops of my breasts. I felt goose bumps dot the length of my arms and my skin tingled in response to his touch, as if a current of electricity were flowing through the length of my body. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” I replied, breathless. Was I sure I wanted to do this?
I had never been more sure of anything in my life.
When he made love to me underneath the aspen trees, the summer