The apartment was hideous to boot. Mashed carpet, peeling linoleum, light fixtures full of dead moths, take-out containers overflowing the kitchen trash can.
Aidan took a deep breath, regretted it thanks to the smells that assaulted him, and let it out in a rush. “Dude. We need new lives.”
Holly nursed a lukewarm cup of tea at the kitchen table and listened to the garage door rattle up and then back down below her. She felt the vibration of the opener’s motor through the soles of her sandals as she watched blue birds peck at the meal worms she’d left for them in a bowl outside the window. She listened to Michael’s footfalls move through the basement and come up the stairs.
“Dinner smells good,” he said as he entered the kitchen.
“Brisket,” she said of the slab of meat in the oven that was starting to make the entire house smell like peppercorn heaven.
He walked up behind her chair, and then his hands were on her shoulders, and then he was pressing his face against the top of her head and kissing her hair. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she echoed, reaching to cover his hand with one of hers.
“You feeling alright?”
“Mmhm.” She stroked his knuckles. “I was sitting here thinking, and I want to ask you something. Two somethings, actually.”
He straightened, hands squeezing her shoulders. “Okay.”
She’d been nervous about asking this a few weeks before. But the night of the ropes, they’d turned a corner into a new hallway for the two of them, one even more open and unguarded. So with a confidence that surprised her, she said, “Maggie has this tattoo. A pawprint. She said it was what Lean Dogs’ old ladies got, to show they belonged.” She squeezed his fingers. “You never mentioned it to me.”
She swore she felt him shrug. “It doesn’t matter to me. I know you’re mine; no tat changes that.”
Her chest swelled with bright emotion. “Really?”
“Really.”
She’d thought as much, but it was nice to have it put into words.
“What was the other question?” he asked.
This was the part that had her nerves dancing. “What do you think about the name Lucy?”
“Lucy,” he said, tasting the name. “Lucy McCall.” She knew he was smiling when he said, “I like it.”
She set her mug on the table so she could lay her hand on her belly.
Lucy.
Through the haze of smoke rising from the grill, Ava saw Colin approaching them up the back sidewalk. “He’s here,” she said, touching Mercy on the arm. “I’ll grab drinks and be back.”
He grunted an unhappy response, but his lack of verbal complaint was encouraging. At this point, Ava was convinced he only pretended to hate his brother.
She ducked in through the mud room door, grabbed two Buds and a tiny glass of wine for herself, then tiptoed back to the door, peering through the window at the two of them.
Colin had joined Mercy at the grill and they both stared down at the cooking burgers. Their stances were identical, the way they held themselves, the way their heads tipped forward on their necks. She could tell they were talking – the low rumble of their voices – but couldn’t make out the words from her side of the door.
Then Mercy’s head nodded the way it always did when he laughed. Colin mirrored the move. She heard their deep, similar chuckles.
Brothers, there was no denying it. And somehow, Ava didn’t think Colin’s last night in Knoxville was the end of their new connection – but the beginning.
She smiled.
~*~
There’s a rhythm to everyday life within this club. Steady pulses, like heartbeats. I’m learning them, finding a way to count them. I don’t know what “normal” is for other people, but this is the new normal for me, and it is wonderful. We are connected. We are family. Blood is measured by halves – and we are stronger for it.
Holly McCall
THE END
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Blog: hoofprintpress.blogspot.com
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Other Titles From Lauren Gilley
The Walker Series
Keep You
Dream of You
Better Than You
Fix You
Rosewood
Whatever Remains
Shelter
The Russells
Made for Breaking
God Love Her
Keeping Bad Company
“Things That Go Bang in the Night”
“Green Like the Water”
Dartmoor Series
Fearless
Price of Angels
Half My Blood
The Skeleton King