“Before my time.”
I nodded, slowly. There were a lot of brothers—and lovers—I struggled to accept hadn’t been in my life since forever, but Nash was probably the hardest. I’d never told him, but I reckon we all fell in love the day his uncle rocked up on the compound with Nash on the back of his cruiser, and thinking aboutwhyFergus McGovern had felt the need to uproot a teenager from the only life he’d ever known churned my stomach.
Cos I knew why now—Viktorhad told me.
“Earth to Cam?”
River. You were talking about River.
I rubbed my lips. “Rubi understands all this better than me, especially now, but that hit to the head fucked River up. Scans were clear, but he’s never been the same. Add in everything he’s been through on top of that...” I trailed off as River emerged from the garage with a ladder. “The fuck is he going with that?”
Nash leaned back in his seat, tracking my chaotic youngest sibling. “Want me to check?”
“Nah, we’ll find out soon enough. Why are you asking about River’s brain? Something else happen?”
“ADHD can be hereditary.” Nash tipped forward again. “The midwife asked if there was anything in your family, and it was all we could think of?—”
Nash’s phone lit up. He snatched it off the table, taking the call without stopping to look at the screen, even though Locke had checked in ten minutes ago and I couldseeOrla from where I sat, giving the prospects at her disposal the royal fucking run around. “Yeah?”
The caller spoke and pure aggression stole over Nash, violence so potent I pushed back my chair, already halfway to pandemonium. “What in the ever-lovingfuckare you calling me for?”
6
CAM
For all I was the infamous president of a notorious outlaw motorcycle club, I spent a disproportionate amount of time in fucking Waitrose.
It wasn’t even the closest shop to my house, but fuck it. I liked the chicken. Not that I was buying chicken tonight. I chucked spring onions, eggs, and butter into the basket to go with the Irish potatoes and moved to the self-checkout till, still bristling with the fury the call to Nash’s phone had treated me to.
Sometimes people got out of my way because they knew me. Sometimes it was pure vibes, and let me tell you, that self-service till didn’t help me make any new friends.
I left the supermarket without a single person meeting my gaze and hit the road, pulling up ten minutes later outside the three-bed semi I’d once called home.
A new family lived there now. Folk saw me coming on the security cameras and waited at the door, watching me dismount and stride up the driveway with my bag of tricks like I thought I was Rubi fucking Matherson.
“What you got there?”
“Dinner.”
“Why?”
“You’re knackered and we need a fucking chat.”
“You’rebleeding,” Folk countered, unmoved, “and Ivy’s here.”
Bleeding. Blood.Goddamn it. I flicked a glance at my split knuckle and shook it out. “I punched the self-service till in the shop.”
Folk eyed me a moment longer. Then he shrugged. “Fair enough.”
He stepped aside, allowing me into the house I’d grown up in. Decoy hadn’t done much with it when he’d first moved in, a fucking shell of a brother just trying to survive. But living with Folk had changed that. The walls were brighter now, the windows wide open more often than they were closed, and the whole place was alive with family life.
Toys.
Kids shoes.
Terrible artwork stuck to the fridge.
The place felt like home again, even if it lacked the stale scent of my ma’s old gravy pot.