He loves her. He may not even think of it like that, but I see it in the worry lines around his eyes and the way he carries himself. She has no idea who he is, but he’s always known her. Every year that Ma lit two candles on Alexandra and Michael’s birthday, every Christmas that she pulled out those ornaments with their names on them, every time someone asked her about her kids…
In a way, we all love her. There has never been a Ruby without an Alexandra and a Michael. In that way, thinking of the weight of her presence in our family, I get why Ian looks like he can’t decide between barfing or starting a fight. We’re in the middle of nowhere and we have over two thousand more miles to log before we can chill out a bit. This somber shit has got to fucking go.
“Around back,” I say with a smirk. Ian’s expression darkens. Alexandra gasps, her wide brown eyes shooting up to mine. Her cheeks are beet red. She lowers her head back to the ground in obvious embarrassment.
“You’re not funny,” he responds. Ma scoffs from a distance and walks up to our small group. She gives me a light shove and turns, giving Ian a glare. Her face softens minutely as the pain in his features registers in her mind. Sometimes, when you know people well enough, you just know what they’re thinking. Mancuso, the scar on Ian’s face, the sacrifice she made so many years ago. It’s like I’m witness to the most excruciatingly painful moment either has ever experienced.
“You,” Ma says to Ian, “fill up the tank.” Wheeling around, she slaps my bicep. “I ought to rip your ear off for that comment, Ryan,” she says. And just like that, she’s back to being the woman who raised me—tough as nails and ready to take on anyone.
I walk away to check my phone for messages. So far, so good. The prospects know to call one of us if there’s a problem, and as of right now, I don’t have a single message. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I look up to see Ma waving me over to her. I close the distance between us, toss an arm over her shoulder, and bend down, kissing her cheek. Pop got it right when he hooked this one. She’s the only woman I think I’ll ever love.
“And this punk is Ryan, my step-son,” she tells Alexandra.
“Don’t let her tell you nothing,” I protest. “She lies.” Ma laughs loudly as Alexandra looks shocked as all hell. What kind of bubble has this chick been living in?
“See? A punk,” she says and jerks her thumb at me. “No respect.” For the first time since I saw her for the first time, Alexandra looks relaxed. A small laugh escapes her, and she shakes her head ruefully. Her laughter dies down quickly, and she shuffles her feet in the dirt before she spins around and rushes into the now vacant bathroom.
Ma’s smile falls as her eyes suddenly fill with tears. She wipes them away quickly. I can’t help but envelope her in a tight hug. With her head against my chest, I give her back a pat and kiss the top of her head. Sometimes I forget that this is hardest on Ma. I think we all do. She’s so fucking tough it’s easy to gloss over the reality of what’s happening here.
“Chill out, woman,” I say. “She’s real. She’s not going to fucking float away.” Ma sniffles then pushes me away with a clipped laugh. Pop walks up, and I happily hand her off to him. He married her, he can take care of this weepy shit. If he weren’t here, I’d do it, but being in Ma’s arms makes me feel like I’m ten years old all over again.
A hard object rams into my back, sending me toward the dirt floor. Pain radiates from my shoulder blades and shoots down my spine. I catch myself before my knees hit the ground, and spin around to see Chief—whose real name is Charles—grinning at me. Once recognition dawns, I throw my fist at his face, connecting with his jaw. It’s barely a second before he flies at me, fists wailing and excitement in his eyes. I fly backward from the impact and hit the ground with a heavy thud, this stupid bastard on top of me. I manage to throw him off only to move the wrong way and end up in a headlock. I need this shit. The adrenaline keeps me awake, and aware.
Pop shouts, getting everybody’s attention. I shove Chief off me and stand, brushing the dirt off my arms. Rig’s crew and the rest of our charter stop what they’re doing and form a loose circle in front of Pop, ready to hear what he has to say. As usual, his speech is short, it’s just not short enough. “We’re making good time. We need to keep it up. If anybody can’t keep up with the hours we’re pulling, turn in your fucking patch. We didn’t get this far to fuck up now. Straight through to Nevada, boys.”