In the Wind by Bijou Hunter
Dedication
Freckles, Tigger, Pooh, and Roo for making me laugh Mustang Sally for cracking her whip
Candy Girl Miranda for knowing me better than I know myself Saucy Sarah, Passionate Patty, and Seductive Stacie for kicking ass Naughty Nicole for her endless energy and Darling Daphne for her silliness
Chapter 1
Sawyer
Piece of My Heart
A great man's heart gave out, yet the world went on. How can anyone smile again when his smiles were gone forever? How will I laugh again when the funniest man I ever knew is dead? How will I love again when my pop made the world safe to trust?
Kirk Johansson was never sick a day in his life, yet he died. At his memorial, people said he never lost a fight, yet he's still dead. They claimed the world will never be the same, yet they just went on fucking living as if he never existed.
I hated them for finding their smiles. I hated them for even wanting to cope. I hated them for moving on. How could we ever accept the great Kirk Johansson was gone? How dare they forget my pop?
My brothers and sister have families, so they're strong for their children's sake. Cooper and Tucker work hard to keep the club steady without Pop. I know in my head how my siblings have responsibilities, but I resent excuses for moving past their grief.
Even Mom decides she needs to get away from the memories waiting for her in our house. I adore my mom. She's perfection, but her decision to take a cruise a month after Pop's death feels all wrong. Why should she want to forget when remembering is what keeps him alive?
Unwilling to move on, I refuse to join her on the cruise. I don't need to be strong. I only want to keep Pop alive, but the people in Ellsberg won't help me. Crowding me with their positive thinking, I feel their needs forcing me to hide my grief. Screw them and their well-meaning words.
My days and nights blur together. I finish my sophomore year of studies, giving me nothing to distract from my grief. When Mom flies out to meet her cruise, I join my siblings to say goodbye. They return home to their wives and husbands and an army of kids between them all. I return to a house haunted with memories of what I've lost.
Sleep is like a quickie lover, leaving me unsatisfied. I doze more than rest most nights. When I dream, I see Pop. When I'm awake, I feel him everywhere.
On Tuesday, I sit on the couch where I've been for over a day. I only move to use the bathroom and microwave food. My brothers visited earlier, but I ignored them. I hate seeing Pop in their handsome, living faces. My older sister leaves a message when I don't answer the phone. She's worried about me. Do I want to have dinner with her and hubby Nick and the boys? She'll even let me pick the restaurant.
Instead of going out, I eat half of the casserole our housekeeper made yesterday. Kim is a good woman who's worked for my family for years. She always braids her hair and smells like Pine-Sol even after she gets out of the shower. I know she misses my pop. She's a good woman in every way, but I hate when she tells me Kirk wouldn't want me to sit alone so much. As if he'd be happier for me to enjoy life when he no longer can.
Holding the remote Pop held so many times, I feel him in the room with me. I remember how weeks ago he sat with me just as I now sit alone. Pop knew I was lost since Jace left me. My heart broken, I craved my Mom and Pop. Now they're both gone, and I'm alone in this big house missing them both.
I never stop to think when packing my bag. Scratching out a note for Kim, I grab the keys to my red SUV and leave behind the life reeking of sorrow.
Where am I going? I ask myself every hour on the first day of the drive. The answer escapes me every time until I'm in Tennessee.
I spot a sign of two identical chicks showing off their bright white teeth. Suddenly, the answer is clear.
My phone doesn't have their number stored, and they aren't listed. Without warning, I show up at the front gate of their huge Texas property.
We haven't spoken in years. They used to be my Facebook friends until they deleted their profiles to prevent the government from stalking them. I remember rolling my eyes years ago. The rich redheaded twins were always so damn crazy, yet now they represent a new chance.
Answering the intercom at the front gate, the twins' brother Zane will only grant me access if I answer a question.
"Who was the killer in Friday the 13th?" he asks through the intercom.
"What's his face's mom," I answer.
The gates opening, I drive down a long road to a hotel-sized lodge-style house. The driveway filled with SUVs, trucks, and Harleys makes me feel at home.
"Hands up," a voice says as I exit my SUV.
Doing as I'm told, I remember the twins' love affair with guns. They appear on the front porch, and I see they've graduated from BB guns to automatic weapons.
"What do you want?" one of the twins asked.