Chapter 1
Collin
“Hellock, it’s your lucky damn day.” The officer on duty looked pissed as hell as he narrowed his yellow eyes at me through the cell bars. “You’re free to go.”
I stood, stretching my back. Eighteen fucking hours had felt like a lifetime. I’d been sitting in that freezing cell on a metal bench trying to remember the night before. After my fifth beer, everything went fuzzy, but judging from my busted knuckles and torn jeans, it had been a rough one. Flashes of vague memories assaulted me: a burly guy getting in my face, smashing a bottle over his head, stumbling to my bike, then laying it down on a gravel road with blue and red lights flashing behind me.
“Happy Thanksgiving to me,” I muttered as the crotchety guard unlocked the door, stepping aside for me to pass.
Go through processing.
Get my shit back.
Get bitched at.
I’d gone through the same routine more times than I cared to count.
Walking out into the cool morning air, I got a few seconds of peace before Ryder crushed out his cigarette on the bottom of his boot and shot me a glare that would have killed me on the spot if I wasn’t so fucking used to it.
“Do you know what strings I had to pull to get you out of this one, Collin?” he barked before getting into the driver’s seat of his Ford pickup.
I rubbed my hand over my face. “I don’t even know what really happened.”
“Assault with a deadly weapon and a fucking DUI. How many more times am I going to have to pay off a damn judge for you?” Steam was billowing from his nose as my brother-in-law drove us to my mother’s house.
I was defeated. He was right. I kept fucking up, and Ryder kept cleaning up my messes.
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much, but I didn’t have anything else to say.
He reached into the back seat before handing me my cut.
“This is fucking earned, Collin. You of all people should know better than this. We all have our days—fuck, you know I’ve been bailed out more times than Raine or Holt would ever care to admit—but at least I didn’t do stupid shit like this to land me in the slammer.”
I felt like a beat damn puppy. Ryder wasn’t just my family; he was my president. He had more important things to worry about than me screwing up all the time.
“I’ll get my head on straight, promise,” I mumbled as we pulled into the driveway.
“This is your last chance, man. You better make good on that promise. Now, let’s move on and have a good fucking holiday for Crickett and Raine’s sake.” Ryder put his hand on my shoulder before adding, “You know I only get this mad because I see your potential and love you like a brother, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, love ya too.”
“Uncle Collin!” My nephew, Abel, sprinted for me as I got out of his father’s truck.
Scooping the kid up, I hugged him tightly to my chest. “Happy Thanksgiving, punk.”
The five-year-old squeezed my neck as he giggled. “I’m not a punk—you’re a punk.”
Little Abel looked more and more like his name sake every day. His bright eyes and crooked smile made me miss my old man so damn much.
“Little brother out of the big house, I see.” Raine ambled down the front steps wearing an apron and a coy smile.
“Gotta keep life interesting.” I kissed her cheek as I carried her son into the kitchen.
My mom was chopping carrots and onions for her stuffing, humming to herself. It was one of my favorite sights in the world. Through all the tragedy she had seen in her life, my mother still was able to enjoy the little things and find reasons to sing to herself while she cooked for the whole Unacceptables family.
“Why don’t you go play in the living room while I help Grandma in here,” I whispered to Abel before he sprinted off to play with his Legos.
“Hey Ma.” I grabbed a beer out of the fridge before taking the knife from her. “I’ll chop the onions—can’t have you crying before you have to see everyone.”