Chapter 2

CHAPTER

TWO

SPENCER

The drive from Austin to Pineville would take me six hours if I didn’t have to stop to recharge my car. And if I didn’t have to map out the route so I could recharge it. I make the stop around Waco and charge there as I get something to eat for lunch and use the bathroom.

I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to charge my car when I get to Pineville. I might be completely out of luck. I’m so used to Austin, where there is always somewhere to get a full charge, and I can even do it at my apartment complex.

Once my lunch is eaten and my car fully charged, I get back on the road. As soon as I reach East Texas, the scenery begins to change. The pine trees appear tall and grandiose as they guide me to my hometown.

It feels like home, too. The smells, the sights, the curves of the roads, all of it. I hate that. I don’t want this to feel like home . I want it to feel foreign and wrong, not perfect and right. It pisses me off.

Pressing my lips together, I try to keep from crying because of how that makes me feel, but a few tears leak out, regardless of what I want. This place holds a million memories—good, bad, and ugly.

Once my car passes the Pineville sign, I dry my tears, but mainly because my anger takes over. These assholes let my brother get thrown in jail. He’s going to prison over this shit because I know he won’t rat his men out.

Instead of driving straight to the clubhouse, I decide to take a cruise down Main Street. I can’t imagine much has changed. Color me absolutely shocked at the state of the shops along the street.

It’s actually cute.

When I was last here, it was a bunch of seedy bars, but that’s not the case anymore. I let out an audible gasp at the sight of a bakery. I pull into a parking spot that happens to be right in front and open the car door. Shifting my legs to the side, I place my feet on the asphalt road.

Slowly, I straighten from the car, then close the door behind me. I make my way toward the glass door, reaching for the handle and tugging it open. I’m not sure what I expect, but when I step into the bakery, I’m surprised all over again.

Instantly, I’m hit with the sweet scent of bakery treats.

My God.

It smells heavenly.

Before I can even look at the case, a cheerful voice greets me. When I shift my gaze from the bakery case to hers, my eyes widen. She’s stunning, like, beyond beautiful. She’s smiling at me with a little baby strapped to her front, just sleeping away.

She looks like she’s out of a movie.

“Have you tried any of our bakery items before?” she asks.

I’m taken aback by everything about her. She’s stunning in so many ways that she’s taken my breath away. I’ve never seen anything like her here in Pineville. Things sure have changed in a decade.

Swallowing hard, I shake my head a couple of times before I answer her. “I haven’t been here before. I was just driving by and noticed the bakery.”

Her eyes light up, and then she starts to tell me all about her products. It’s the most Austinite bakery I’ve ever encountered. It’s an all non-GMO, Paleo, vegan, gluten-free place. I would have never imagined that Pineville could ever have something like this, let alone sustain it.

“I don’t even know what to order,” I say once she’s finished going over all of the items in the case.

She lets out a giggle, then she turns and grabs a box. “How about a six-pack? It’ll be a mix of different things—cupcakes, brownies, and cookies. Is there anything you’re allergic to?”

“No, nothing,” I say. “That sounds amazing.”

She gives me a wink, then fills up the box. She asks me little chatty questions, like where I’m from and what brings me here.

“I’m actually from here,” I say after I tell her that I live in Austin now.

She lifts her eyes, her lips still curved up into a big smile. “Welcome home.”

It’s not that kind of trip home, but I also decide she doesn’t need to know the ins and outs of my trip. I don’t even know who she is. I pay for the treats and thank her, then she calls out for me to wait before I leave.

“If you’re around on Saturday, I’ll be at the farmers’ market. There are always a bunch of great vendors there.”

My heart squeezes at the mention of the farmers’ market. Not because my family went there or anything, but I remember Atomic loving the market, and in turn, Brew did, too. He took me a few times when I was a teenager and expressed an interest in it.

It wasn’t a complete lie. I did like going, but I was mostly interested because he was into it. Teenage starry-eyed dreams were of us going to the farmers’ market together, hand in hand, and buying fruit together. What an idiot I was.

“I’ll see if I can make it,” I say, giving her a wave and thanking her again before I head back to my car.

Settling my bakery box on the front seat, I shift the car into Reverse and head to the motel in town. I am doing everything I can to avoid going to the clubhouse, but I know I need to before I run out of electricity.

Ophelia sits behind the desk of the motel, and I can’t help but wonder if the woman has ever left her station. As soon as the little bell rings over the door, she lifts her head, and I step into the office.

Her eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t recognize me immediately. I almost laugh, because this woman knew me as a kid. She used to catch us swimming in the motel’s pool and run us out, but she always did it with a smile on her face.

“I would like a room,” I state.

She frowns, no doubt attempting to place my voice. When she asks me my name, I tell her.

Spencer Maddison.

That’s when her eyes widen as they shift from the computer screen to meet my own. “No,” she breathes. “Little Spencer Maddison?”

I can’t help but laugh. The fact that she called me little when I’m well over five foot nine. “In the flesh,” I say, giving her the best smile I can muster.

Her lips curve up into a grin that dies almost immediately. “Your brother,” she whispers. “He’s one of the good ones. I hate that he was thrown in jail that way.”

I almost, almost laugh in her face. She acts as if my brother is innocent and that this is something that unjustly happened to him. Instead of saying that, I give her a tight-lipped smile.

She nods, then turns back to her computer and types in some things. I give her my credit card to keep on file, and then she hands me a key.

“Now, if you get bored in that room, you just come on down here. I can always use someone to play cards with,” she says with a smile.

Thanking her, I tell her that I’ll definitely do that. Because I probably will. It’s not like I have anything else to do once my computer work is finished for my clients.

Taking the key, I walk over to my assigned room, open it up, and look around. I know that at least here, I’ll be safe. Which is more than I could say for my parents’ place or the clubhouse.

I gather all of my things, including my box of bakery treats, and carry them into the room. I want to try the desserts, but I decide I’m going to wait until I’m back from yelling at the Dark Horse MC. The sugar will probably help calm my anxiety.

brEW

The clubhouse is in a fucking uproar over Clink being arrested. It shouldn’t have happened. We have a new route, a new system, and it hasn’t been completely vetted yet. Of course, this happens to Clink, our treasurer. Why would it happen to a brother who didn’t hold an office? Because that shit would be far too fucking easy.

Lifting a beer to my lips, I take a pull. Fuck. I cannot believe this has happened. Then, the door to the clubhouse swings open, letting the light into the otherwise dim room. The sight of her causes my fucking breath to hitch like a goddamn idiot.

“You assholes got my brother thrown in jail,” she snaps.

Spencer Maddison .

Fucking hell.

The room goes completely silent. A growl escapes my lips, and I march toward her. The closer I get to her, the more she must realize who I am. Her eyes widen, and she takes a few steps backward.

She’s taller than she was the last time I saw her, filled out a bit more, too, sexy as all fucking hell. Once I’m directly in front of her, I lean forward, growling again. This fucking woman. She’s just as beautiful as she was when she was eighteen years old. No, she’s more beautiful, which I didn’t even know was possible.

“Outside,” I snap.

“Fuck you,” she grinds out.

My eyes widen, and I lift my brows in surprise. Then my lip curls. “Outside, or I drag your ass out, babe.”

She rolls her eyes, then spins around and walks out the door. I watch her ass for a moment. Fuck me, but she looks amazing. Better than she did when she left. She fucking should. She’s almost thirty now, a woman.

“Now that the whole clubhouse isn’t watching, wanna tell me what the fuck, and how the fuck you got here so fast?” I grind out.

Her lips twitch into a smirk. “He didn’t tell you he was arrested.”

“I just found out. What the fuck?” I demand.

She lets out a laugh, and the sound hits me straight in the dick. Fuck me. I absolutely love the sound of her laugh, even if it’s at my expense. I watch her, unable to take my eyes off her, and if she notices me staring, she doesn’t say anything.

“He called me about seven hours ago. I got in my car and drove straight here,” she says, lifting her hand to point at a white car.

Flicking my gaze to the car, I snort, then shift my attention back to meet hers. “A Tesla?” I ask. She doesn’t respond, so I continue. “You really bought into that Austin lifestyle, yeah?”

She rolls her eyes to the sky and then lowers them to connect to my gaze. “I like my little car.”

Her words come out flat, as if she’s bored with me, but I know that’s not the case. I could stand here all day long and talk to her, spar with her, hell, just stare at her. But I don’t. I have club shit to handle. I have Clink to handle.

“What do you want, Spencer? What are you doing here?”

She stares at me in the moment of silence that follows my question, her eyes searching my own, and then she lets out a sigh. She appears annoyed with me. I think it’s cute as fuck. My lips twitch as I wait for her to answer me.

Lifting my arms, I cross them over my chest as I tip my chin and look down at her. Her next words should piss me off, but they don’t. I understand her anger. I’m pissed off, too. I’m also wondering how the club is going to fix this.

Unfortunately, I don’t know if it’s fixable.

“I came here to see how you people are going to fix my brother’s situation. He will not go to prison for this shit.”

Spencer may have left Pineville, but she never left her brother, and that shit is admirable. My fingers itch to touch her, and I try as hard as I fucking can not to do that. Keeping my arms crossed over my chest is the only way I can keep from touching her.

“Do you think we don’t want to help him?” I ask. “That we want one of our own locked away?”

Her eyes narrow, then she looks away for a moment before shifting her attention back to meet mine again. “All I know is you made him do illegal shit, and now he’s locked up.”

I don’t laugh. I want to, but I don’t.

“Nobody makes anybody do illegal shit, babe. Clink has been part of this club since he was sixteen. He’s an officer. Nobody made him do a goddamn thing.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but I shake my head once. “You know he loves the club, Spencer. Just like I know you fucking hate it. But that doesn’t mean we don’t love him. We do. And none of us want to see him locked away. We took all the necessary precautions. It was a whole new route. He knew the risks.”

“That’s not good enough,” she shouts.

Dropping my hands to my sides, I close the short distance between us. My hands cup her cheeks as I search her gaze.

“We’re going to fight for him, Spencer. We will fight with him.”

“He’s all I have,” she whispers.

Shaking my head once, I clear my throat. “No, babe. We’re your family, too. You got this whole fuckin’ club.”