Nowhere but Here

  Knots harden in my stomach as I lace and unlace my fingers several times. “You said they want me to stay. What do you want?”

  Dad lays his hand over my fidgeting fingers. “The same thing.”

  My head falls back and I fight the way my lower lip trembles. “So I’m in danger?”

  “No,” Dad says with force. “You’re not in danger.”

  “But I overheard Eli say—”

  “You overheard what Eli believes. If you want my opinion, this is a game.”

  His leg moves, causing us to slowly swing, and I contemplate his words. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you remember my cousin Josh?”

  I can’t help the lift of my mouth. Josh. He owns his own company, but odds are Dad’s referring to the conventions he attends where he dresses up as his favorite characters. It’s different from my world, but he’s a huge teddy bear and I adore him. “Yeah.”

  “Sometimes people create a world that gives them power. Sometimes people create a world to find friends with similar interests. To me, motorcycle clubs are a rougher man’s sci-fi convention.”

  A chill runs through me when I remember the men last night at the motel. “Are you saying that whatever is going on between the Reign of Terror and this Riot club isn’t real?”

  Dad merely inclines his head in answer.

  An unsettling jolt of nerves compels me to glance around to confirm no one’s overheard. A few hours with these people and even I’m aware that those are fighting words with men who are heavily armed. “I don’t know. They seem serious to me.”

  “What danger have you truly met? You saw men in a parking lot in the middle of the night. If people from Eli’s club weren’t there, you would have bought your water and returned to the room. Eli’s convinced himself this is a big deal. It’s amazing what people can make themselves believe.”

  I tap my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “If that’s the case, why have I been living in the seventh circle of hell for the past few hours?”

  Dad chuckles. “I like that you chose violence.”

  Dante’s Inferno and his nine levels of hell. It’s one of Dad’s favorite books. “It was a lucky guess.”

  “To answer your question, I thought you should come back to the motel immediately, but your mother felt differently.”

  My eyebrows rise past my bangs. “My mother? Mrs. Snowflake-is-the-devil’s-playground is the cheerleader on this?”

  “She hates you being here, but she went into hysterics when Eli showed at the motel. Crying and screaming like I’ve never seen. Your mother has secrets, Emily. Those demons we talked about, and they have a strong hold when they pop up. They don’t terrorize her often, but when they do, she’s unreasonable.”

  “What happened to Mom?” I ask. “And why is she scared of Snowflake—and Eli?”

  He sighs. “I love your mom. I’ve belonged to her since she walked into that free clinic with you on her hip and told me I didn’t know jack when I informed her that you had a cold.”

  I love this story. They’ve both told it to me a hundred times. Dad was volunteering at the clinic and my mother was a complete bitch to the know-it-all young doctor. She was right and I had strep. He was wrong and bought us dinner. The three of us have been together since.

  “Your mom is persistent, headstrong, passionate and full of life and love. I traveled around the world after med school, not knowing what I was looking for, and I knew I had found it when I met her...and you.”

  Even though it’s a million degrees outside and I’m minutes away from heatstroke, I edge closer to him. Sue me for this being my favorite part of the story.

  “With that said, your mother has had this uncontrollable fear of motorcycle clubs. Terrified of their reach. Terrified of their violence. Terrified that at any moment they were going to barge into our house and rip you out of our hands. She told me stories and for the first few years I believed them, but then year after year we heard nothing. Saw nothing. My fear receded and yet your mother’s stayed the same.”

  “Do you think she lied to you?” I broach. “About the club?”

  “Not intentionally. Your mother believes the same lies they tell themselves. They act bigger and badder than they really are. They probably threatened her and she fell for it. The most dangerous part of ourselves can be an overactive imagination.”

  My cheeks burn and I lower my head. How many times has Dad reminded me of that when it pertains to my fears? “So I’m safe.”

  “You’re safe. I guarantee they’ll act overprotective, but things will remain silent and this part of the game will be over.”

  A group of women pull up to the warehouse in a minivan then hop out. Two of them have babies on their hips and a toddler in a T-shirt that proclaims him a “Reign of Terror supporter” follows. “If that’s what you really believe then why do you want me to stay and feed into this game?”

  Dad’s blue eyes flicker over my face. He’s done this since I was young—encouraged me to discover the answers without his help. Sound out the word, Em. You can figure it out... Would a real friend treat you that way...? Don’t you wonder what’s out there in the world...? Aren’t you curious about your heritage?

  “You want me to know my biological family.”

  He relaxes back onto the swing. “You’re curious about them.”

  “I’m not. Trust me, I’m really, really not.”

  We swing slowly. His foot controlling the speed and how high or low we go. Dad’s thinking and I’m used to this, but the longer he waits to speak the worse it will be for me. He’s forming an argument, one I’ll surely lose.

  “There’s more to life than our home and Florida. More to life than me, your mom and the friends you’ve made there. The world is a huge place. How will you know where you fit in unless you explore beyond your comfort zone?”

  I wave my hand toward the warehouse in disgust, beyond caring that it’s obvious to the gawkers that I’m hating. “And this is where I should start? I’ll make you a deal, I’ll go home and visit somewhere safer in Florida, like a prison. Maybe a toxic waste dump.”

  Dad laughs. I wasn’t joking. “Anytime your mother even casually brings up the past, you pay complete attention. You’ve never been one to mince words so if you weren’t slightly curious about Eli, you never would have agreed to the visitations. You’re frightened of Snowflake because your mother raised you to be. If you stay, maybe you’ll figure out that there’s nothing to fear and maybe your mom will finally learn that she has no reason to be afraid of Eli or his club.”

  My stomach flips multiple times. Mom and Eli hugged. I’m not so sure that it’s Eli she’s scared of, but I choose to keep this tidbit to myself. There’s no way I could ever tell my father that my mother, his wife, touched another man.

  I listen to the creaking of the swing as I let the events of the past night and his words sink in. Dad informed me from the moment I walked off the plane that I wasn’t in danger and that everything was fine, but like Mom I permitted my fear to lead me.

  I release a long breath and bite the bullet. “Mom’s lied to me, hasn’t she? About Eli’s family?”

  The porch swing stills and my dad tenses beside me.

  “Olivia showed me a picture of me and her together. I was a baby and James the Elephant was seriously pink and fluffy.”

  He’s silent for a moment. “I promised your mother I would never discuss certain things with you. I agreed, not understanding the effect it would have on you both. I don’t break my promises. Especially to your mother.”

  No, he’d never break a promise to either of us. “Which is why you fought for the visits with Eli and why you think I should stay here.”

  Dad wraps an arm around me and squeezes my shoulder. “There’s a big world out there and you have blood family in it. I’m not sug
gesting that you forget us and fall in love with them, but—”

  “It’s okay to be curious,” I whisper.

  “It is,” he agrees.

  “I’m not saying I am,” I mutter.

  He ignores me. “Our fears are what stifle us and we’re only scared of what we don’t understand. Fear can be handed down generationally, kind of like eye color. I love your mom, but I also love you. I don’t want to see your mother’s fears turn into chains that drag you down.”

  I let my gaze roam. Men gather around their bikes. Another group of guys hang around the women and children. Mom still stares at us, as do Oz and Eli. It’s the same picture from when we sat down, yet it’s changed.

  “These people scare the hell out of me,” I say.

  “They’re flesh and blood like the rest of us. That, as a doctor, I can guarantee.”

  My mother was afraid. Very afraid. And she fled from here. Why, I don’t know, but I run the risk of letting fear paralyze me if I don’t overcome it and what better way to overcome it than to stay in the scariest town on earth?

  “If I ask Mom what happened, she won’t tell me, will she?”

  “No,” Dad says. “She won’t, and neither will Eli. Just like me, he made a promise to your mother—and Eli might be a lot of things, but over the years I’ve known him, he’s proven to be a man of his word.”

  Mom won’t tell me. No one will tell me...except maybe the woman I accused of being a liar—Olivia.

  Disorientation hits me as another shot has been taken at my relationship with my mother. Somehow this bleeding wound tastes like betrayal. My arm begins to itch. I scratch, not caring that it will make the hives bigger. “Hey, Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  I turn my head and look straight into his eyes. “Do you swear I’m safe?”

  “I swear it, Em. If I thought you were in danger, you would have been on the first flight home to Florida this morning with police by your side. Eli’s your biological father, but I’m your dad. I’m not asking you to stay here forever. A week. Maybe two. You decide the length, no matter what Eli thinks. I’ll miss you every second you’re away and we’ll talk as often as you want. I want you to discover your biological family, but I’m your dad and you’re my little girl. Always.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder. My dad. This is my dad. “I love you.”

  A kiss on my head. “I love you, too.”

  “For real, how long do I need to stay?” A sickening wave of homesickness hits me. I’m not just leaving behind my parents, but dreams for an entire summer.

  I was supposed to go on vacation with Trisha next week to her grandmother’s in New York. I had just discovered that I was selected to be the head volunteer at the food pantry. I had just gotten the attention of the cute guy in my math class. I was just on the verge of making some dreams a reality.

  A lot of supposed-tos and just-abouts and now I’m stuck here—in Snowflake—in hell.

  “Stay just long enough for you to get a taste of Eli and his family and for your mom to feel you’re safe in returning home. When you’re ready, I’ll come and get you. What do you have to say?”

  What do I have to say? From across the lot, my mother focuses on us with her hands locked together as if in prayer. Eli stands in the middle of a group of men, but his attention is fixed solely on me. My gaze reaches Oz and the moment our eyes meet, he glances away; then my heart picks up speed when he looks my way again. And I have my answer. “Mom is going to lose her mind when she leaves me behind.”

  Oz

  NEVER BEEN THE guy to develop a nervous habit, but I’m so damned twisted inside that I’m reconsidering. Violet taps her fingers when she’s wound. Chevy rubs his hands together. Razor will take out that big blade of his and flip it around, making everyone around him jumpy and ready to call the police. Me? I go quiet. Still. And observe my surroundings.

  I lean against the wall of the clubhouse and my muscles are stiff from staying frozen for so long. This building used to be a three-car garage, but as the club grew, the cars received an eviction notice and a bar now runs along the wall. When it rains, they’ll lift the garage doors and park the bikes inside, but on dry days the place belongs to the pool table, mismatched couches, bar stools, tables, chairs and the bras tacked to the walls.

  It’s nine in the evening. Our caravan traveled home from Lanesville four hours ago. Olivia escorted Emily inside, Eli went into Church with the other board members and I returned home to get some sleep.

  Eli texted me forty minutes ago to get my ass to the clubhouse. I rolled out of bed and hightailed it on my bike. Now I wait with my feet cemented to the concrete floor, hands shoved in my pocket and my eyes peeled on the clock on the wall over the bar.

  Each passing second curls the coil inside me tighter and tighter and tighter.

  Tick...tick...tick...

  Razor and Chevy sit at the bar nursing the longnecks they bought twenty minutes ago. They could be here for the cheap beer since not a damn person at the bar cares they’re underage. Hell, they could be here to watch the Reds game with the other members of the club. But the brief glances they send me and the fact that neither of them has said a word to each other or anyone else informs me they’re here for support.

  I messed up at the motel and tonight I’ll learn my fate with the club.

  The door to the back opens and Razor’s dad, Hook, scans the room. He’s the sergeant-at-arms and there’s no doubt he’s searching for me. His eyes fall on his son, but they don’t linger. Hook would be the reason why his son had the longest prospect period in the history of the club. He refused to let Razor’s membership go up for a vote with the club until by-laws demanded it had to be done. Not sure why he did what he did, but Hook’s actions didn’t help his already messed-up relationship with his son.

  With one flick of a finger, Hook indicates for me to jump and, being in the position I’m in, I walk forward in a silent acceptance of how high. I barely catch the door before it shuts. Straight would lead me to the kitchen, but I hike up the stairs.

  The second floor holds a dormitory-type room with cots for any club member to crash, whether he belongs to this chapter or another. Farther down the hall are a few individual rooms for our more important guests or for couples who prefer privacy instead of doing their thing in public. Where I’m headed is the door on the right: Church.

  Church, for the club, is a reverent room. It doesn’t contain pictures of dead saints or candles in red glasses, and there’s no cross nailed to an altar. What is hammered into the wall is a huge black banner with a skull in the dead center, fire dripping from the sky and flames blazing out of the eyes. The white words Reign of Terror race across the top.

  I follow Hook in and let the door close behind me. This isn’t my debut visit in Church and hopefully it won’t be the last, but to each man in here, this should be my first time. No one comes in here without permission. Chevy and I snuck in here a few times as kids. Cyrus caught us the last time at eight and he wore the skin of our asses out for it. I learned my lesson, though. Respect the rules. Respect the club.

  Church is set up like any conference room with a long table and chairs, but the men in here are more serious than any CEO. Each member would die for their brothers or this club. That’s what membership requires.

  It’s hard not to look in Dad’s direction. He’s the business manager and has been a member since he was eighteen. Dad taught me from an early age that I’m my own man when it pertains to the club. I’m his son, but these are his brothers. I must earn their and his respect.

  I fasten my thumbs in the pockets of my jeans and hang next to the wall while everyone sits. Cyrus claims the seat at the head of the table. He’s the motherfucking chief of the tribe. Eli and I are the only ones left standing.

  Eli curls his fingers around the back of his chair and focuses on t
he mahogany wood in front of him. His knuckles are red and swollen. Two of them have been sliced open and are scabbed over with dried blood. He’s been in a brawl recently. Not a bruise on his face so that means he was the one doing the hitting.

  “You’re not a member, Oz,” he says. “You’re a guest in this room and guest alone, and guest in this context does not mean welcomed or privileged.”

  I nod to Eli, because I haven’t been granted permission to speak. Because of Eli’s past and the club’s bylaws, he can’t be a board member. While I don’t know the details, I do know that when Eli returned home after a long stint of being away, the club had a special meeting, a vote was taken and they allowed an exception to the rules in his case.

  While Eli may never be an official board member, he is part owner of the security company, and, besides Cyrus, the most respected man in our club. As Cyrus explained once, while Eli will never vote, he’s part of the board as a consultant and when he talks, people listen.

  My eyes sweep the room. The five other men eyeball me like we’ve never met. Eli’s words become a gathering storm in my mind and my gut twists. I’m a guest here. Not welcomed—no privileges.

  In this club, a member can’t hurt another member. You throw a punch on a brother then you’re out. But I didn’t make prospect last night, so there’s nothing stopping any of them from nailing me. If Eli swung at me now, Dad wouldn’t stop it. The patch is thicker than blood.

  “Want to tell me what happened at my daughter’s motel last night?”

  Best way to handle this? Short and to the point. “I fell asleep.”

  Eli’s nostrils flare. “Do you have any idea what would have happened to Emily if you hadn’t woken up?”

  The imagined possibilities cause a coldness to creep along my bloodstream. “No.”

  Eli lifts his gaze and meets my father’s stare. “Walk me through this, Oz. I need to know exactly what happened.”