“I love you. Just remember that and everything will be fine.”
This time his smile does reach his eyes. I stand there and watch my husband drive off then turn back to my mother, who still looks disappointed. I feel terrible for being the one to put that look on her face when all she has ever done is support me, love me, and remind me every day that my happiness is all that matters to her.
She grabs my hand and waves to our nosy neighbor as we walk up the sidewalk to our house, but when we climb up onto the porch, she pauses at the doorway.
“Let me talk to him while you go up and pack a bag. It will all work out, I promise.”
Her smile is tight, making me nervous and frightened, it is telling me something she can’t. I can feel it, and all I want to do is run back down the stairs, jump into my car, and go after Cain.
I rush up to my room, pull my already packed suitcase out from under my bed and toss it on top. I gather up a few more pairs of shorts, t-shirts, and panties, then stuff them inside and close it up. Clasping the handle and lugging the case onto the floor, I turn back around and exhale deeply as I say goodbye to my childhood room full of so many happy memories.
I drag the suitcase downstairs and sit on the couch. It’s been almost an hour since Cain has been gone. Those earlier feelings slowly dissipate with each passing minute. No news is good news, I keep telling myself.
My parents emerge from the backyard, my dad walking right past me and into his office, slamming the door shut. My mom sits beside me.
“It didn’t go so good, huh?” I ask, scooting forward and placing my elbows on my knees. I curl my hands into fists and rest my chin on them.
“Not really. Just give him some time, sweetheart. Give us all some time. You ready?” she asks coolly.
“Yes. But I can just take my car, if that’s okay with you?”
She nods. No talk of what to expect on your wedding night. No talk about anything at all. Just a simple nod and a kiss on my cheek as I grab my suitcase and practically run out of the house and to my car.
The Sinners of Revolution Clubhouse is in Sterling Heights, about a half an hour from my parents’ home. My palms are sweaty, my mouth is dry, and I am shaking as I pull up to the gated drive leading in. Two security guards with rifles stand outside, forcing me to come to a stop. I push on the button to roll my window down. An older, dark-haired man with the longest beard I have ever seen sticks his head inside my window, inches away from my face.
“Well. When the news traveled that young Cain up and got himself married, they didn’t say she was a pretty little thing. Welcome, young lady. I was told by the Prez himself to send you right up.”
He taps the side of my car, then backs away. My nerves settle in an instant. If everyone around here is as nice as he is, then we should all get along just fine for the next month. I drive slowly up the paved road. The winding trees sway back and forth with the warm, light breeze that sweeps into the car.
After a moment, the compound comes into view. Every type of Harley in every color you can think of is sitting out front. The garage is open, and I can see men inside working. The club whores, as Cain calls them, stand outside smoking and giving me the evil eye as I drive by. I hold my breath as I come to a stop in front of the office, where Cain told me to meet him when I texted him to let him know I was on my way.
I shut my car off before exhaling and climbing out. If I’m going to be one tough ass bitch of a lawyer, I may as well face my fears now. I need to suck it up and deal with Cain’s dad.
My flip-flops smack against the wooden steps as I climb. I tug on my jean shorts as I knock on the door. They’re too short, and I hate them, but for some reason Cain loves them and asked me to wear them when I showed up.