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“I’m looking for Magnolia?” I say to the very drawn out, skinny, hideously smelly man standing at the door to the apartment that is supposed to belong to my sister.
He really doesn’t look like anyone Magnolia would associate with, but then it has been weeks since the last text I received from her, the same amount of time since she’s answered her phone. I’ve been swept up since the news I received, and since then I haven’t had much chance to track her down, but an old friend of ours that lives here said she thinks she could be getting herself into trouble.
I had to come.
I can’t get surgery on Rupert until I’ve sorted her out.
I’ve nicknamed my tumor Rupert; it kind of makes it a little less scary to think about. Considering it’s mostly all I think about.
“And you are?” the man murmurs, crossing his arms and looking me up and down.
“Her sister. Is she here or not?”
He cocks a brow. “Haven’t seen her in weeks. Don’t know where she is.”
Load of crap. He knows where she is.
“Listen, buddy, you either tell me where she is or ...”
Dammit.
I have a flaw. A full human flaw. I can’t make a valid threat. You know those people that can just throw a threat out without even thinking of it? Yeah, that’s not me. I begin with my sentence, and then I can think of nothing that’ll sound scary enough to use. So I hang there, usually mumbling and stuttering, until I say something absolutely ridiculous to make myself look even worse.
I glance around, trying desperately to come up with a good threat to use.
“Or you’ll what?” he challenges, stepping a little closer to me.
“Or I’ll tip that pot plant all over your patio,” I say, crossing my arms and nodding to a huge pot plant next to the door. “Just imagine all that ... soil.”
Oh god.
Someone take me out.
Take me out now.
Soil.
I said soil.
The man laughs and shakes his head. “Very scary.”
“It will be when you’re sweeping it up for months. Now, tell me where my sister is.”
“Told you,” he growls. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”
“Bullshit. Let me in, I bet she’s in there. This is her apartment.”
“Hasn’t been her apartment for months. Your sister is obviously a good liar.”
Dammit.
Fuck, Magnolia! Fuck.
“Let me in to see for myself,” I say, looking past him.
“No.”
“Let me in!” I protest, going to step past him.
He shoves me.
It’s not a hard shove, but it’s enough to make me lose my footing and topple backward down the stairs.
I land on my bottom, thankfully, but the force I land makes my head scream in pain. A pain I haven’t felt. A pain I honestly thought I’d not see. Rupert isn’t happy, and neither am I right now. I grip the sides of my head and clench my teeth as it feels like a freight train is zig zagging its way through my skull. The door slams to the house; he doesn’t even see if he’s killed me or not.
Dammit.
I wouldn’t have fallen if I didn’t have a risky fucking tumor in my head.
It’s like when you kick your toe and suddenly everyone starts standing on it.
I need to be more careful.
“Briella?”
At the sound of my name I very carefully lift my head and look up to see Cohen standing on the front lawn, staring down at me, his face scrunched with confusion.
Oh, Cohen.
These guys are all part of the club, even when King had it. He brought them all on just before Alarick took over and he passed away. He picked them, and took them through everything, including the major hardships that come with club life, before finally patching them all in. There are still a bunch of older members, the ones that totally respect Alarick but mostly just hang out at the club and try to avoid getting involved in the dangerous side.
They’re like strays, I suppose. Members for life. Always there. Always will be.
I can’t say I don’t miss them. Some of those men became like my father. They protected me and helped me and laughed with me. They were always there for me.
Guilt slams into my chest as I stare at Cohen.
He’s the same age as Alarick, but Cohen is so incredibly beautiful. Alarick is scary, rough, rugged. Cohen is scary too, but he has the face of a biker Ken doll. His chiseled jaw looks like it has been sculpted by hand. His hair is dusty blond and always seems to fall over his forehead. His eyes are so silver, you’d have to see them to believe it. They sparkle in the sun, unique only to him. He’s tall, well-built, and covered in tattoos, just like the rest.
He looks like a biker, he’s a deadly man, he’s just far more approachable than most.
“Cohen?” I croak.
“What’re you doin’ down there on the ground?”
“Long story,” I groan, clutching my head.
“You hurt, here.” He leans down and helps me up and my footing takes a little longer than I’d like. He hangs onto me until I’m able to stand on my own, and only then do I step out and pull my sunglasses down because the sun is really hurting my eyes.
“Did that fucker push you?” he asks, looking over at the door that is now firmly shut.
“You could say that. I’m looking for Magnolia. I’m not having much luck.”
Cohen exhales. “Come with me, I’ll find somewhere for us to talk. That’s a long story. Are you staying in town? Does ...”
He trails off and I look to him, even though he can’t see my eyes, I can see his and I can see the flicker of doubt in them.
“Alarick knows I’m here. Alarick is also not happy about it. Look, I get it, I left, and nobody got to say goodbye. I’m not here to cause trouble, I’m here to help my sister and then I’ll go home.”
Cohen studies me, then says in a gruff voice, “Look it’s not my business, yeah? Where are you staying?”
“That was my next question. Is the Inn still the best place to stay?”
He frowns. “It is, but crime is real bad around town at the moment. Don’t want you stayin’ on your own. You can stay with me.”
“With you?” I say, frowning. “Not sure that’s a good idea. It’s safe to say Alarick isn’t happy about me being in town.”
“You’re family, it’s my choice. Come on, we’ll talk about Magnolia when we get there.”
I exhale, because what other choice do I have? At least I know Cohen. At least I trust him. He’s always been good to me and I’d rather be around someone I know right now then to be alone. My fear of dying in my sleep and nobody finding my body for days is incredibly real and strong. It terrifies me to the point some nights I don’t sleep at all. I am forced to take sleeping tablets to try and get some rest.
Doc reminded me rest is more important than anything.
“You look like you’re in pain?” Cohen asks, as we turn and walk to his truck.
“I am. Just a headache. What were you doing walking past anyway?”
“Was heading to see someone when I saw you sittin’ on the ground. You were the last person I expected to see again.”
“Yeah, well, this ghost has unfinished business.”
He chuckles and opens the truck door for me. “You can tell me all about it.”
I get in the truck and stare out the window as we drive through town, passing by familiar houses and buildings. We pass Alarick’s house, which was once King’s house. We all grew up there, well, for most of my childhood anyway. I close my eyes and lean my head against the headrest, my heart aching as old memories try to flood my brain. Memories I’d do best to keep out for now.
“How have you been, Bri?” Cohen asks.
I keep my head on the headrest and answer him. “I’ve been okay, working and enjoying life. You know, the usual.”
“You know you’ve always been the worst fuckin’ liar?”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
“You’ve gotten no better at it.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. It’s like as I got older, the flaws in me get stronger and not weaker. I just threatened that guy back there with his own pot plant. I threatened to tip it over. Tip. It. Over.”
Cohen laughs, deep and throaty. “Fuck me. You really haven’t changed.”
“Nope.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you, darlin’. It’s been too long. Know the other guys will be glad to see you, too.”
“Sissy wasn’t glad to see me,” I point out.
Cohen grunts. “Sissy is a fuckin’ bitch. Don’t let her bother you.”
I smile.
Just for a moment.
Because right now, here in the car with Cohen, it feels like nothing in the world could bother me.
Like nothing has changed.
Like I’m right back where I was five years ago.
With my family together.
Now I’ve got Rupert.
And he’s one determined little tumor.
Time is running out.
~*~*~*~
“YOU STILL LIVE HERE, huh?” I say to Cohen as he opens the door to the one story, incredibly large house that he grew up in.
“Yeah, Mom passed, and she left it to me.”
“Oh,” I say softly as we walk up the front steps, Cohen holding my bag in his hand. “I’m sorry, Cohen. I loved your mom.”
“Yeah, I know. It was fucked but I’m here and we’re doin’ okay.”
“Have you still got ...?”
I can’t finish my sentence when a massive German shepherd comes skidding around the corner and bounding toward me, tongue hanging out, happy tail wagging. “Germy!” I cry, dropping down to my knees as the huge dog launches itself at me, and we both fall to the ground, my fingers tangling in his fur.
I love this dog.
Cohen’s family got him when I first met them and he was just a little puppy. They couldn’t figure out a name for him, and I kept calling him Germy which in my mind was short for German Shephard and it stuck. He’s been Germy ever since and I love him as much as I did the day I first met him.
“I swear you’re the only person he loves like that,” Cohen murmurs, staring down at me.
I laugh and standing, Germy pawing at my leg to get back on the ground with him. “Soon, buddy. Soon.”
I look to Cohen. “I can’t believe you still have him.”
“He’s not going anywhere, you should know that.”
I smile. “I’m glad. Which room should I put my stuff in?”
He points down the hall and I follow him as we walk to a room and he opens the door. It’s pretty plain, with just a double bed and a dresser but it’ll do. I’m not after anything fancy. After all, I’m not staying long.
“Thank you for this,” I say, turning to him.
He nods and puts my bag down. “Freshen up and then come out and talk to me, we’ve got a lot to cover.”
I exhale.
That doesn’t sound good.
Magnolia is in trouble, I just know it.
It’s not what I need to be dealing with right now, and yet I have to sort it out before my surgery.
One thing at a time.
Just one.