Chapter 5

Myla

“H as he called?” Lou asked carefully as she moved around the kitchen.

“No,” I muttered. My face felt tender and tight, and I knew that I looked like shit. About an hour after Lou and Frankie had knocked on my door asking if I needed anything, the numbness had worn off. I’d spent the three hours after that quietly sobbing into my pillow until I’d finally passed out.

I was an idiot. I’d known that I shouldn’t say anything. I’d known that throwing it in Cian’s face that we weren’t together wasn’t going to go over well. Now, I felt small and immature and really fucking bad that I’d blamed him for something that wasn’t even his fault. I was the daughter of one of the Aces on our own club grounds—if that hadn’t stopped the moron at the party, nothing would have.

“Well, last night didn’t go how I’d thought it would,” Frankie announced as she stomped into the kitchen. “How you doing? You good?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, leaning my chin on my hand.

“He’s an idiot,” Frankie mused, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “And a liar. He cares about you? Spare me.”

“He just seemed shocked,” Lou added. “I bet he’ll call today.”

“Maybe he’s just—” I shrugged. “I must’ve read it wrong.”

“You’ve read years of signs wrong?” Frankie asked doubtfully.

“A year,” I corrected. “If that.”

“Uh, no,” Lou chimed in. “Way longer than a year. He was undressing you with his eyes for a lot longer than that.”

“I can tell you exactly when it started,” Frankie said, leaning back against the counter. “It was that camping trip when you wore that little pink bikini. When was that? Freshman year of college?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lou agreed, nodding. “I remember that.”

“It was between sophomore and junior year,” I corrected. I remembered that bikini. The strap had broken halfway through the trip, and I’d had to wear a ratty one-piece from high school the rest of the time.

“See, it’s been years.” Frankie shot me a grim smile. “And if you weren’t reading the signs right, none of us were either. Everyone has seen how he looks at you. Not just us.”

“Well, he made it pretty clear last night that everyone was wrong.”

“I don’t know, My,” Lou said with a wince. “Really, I think he was just surprised.”

“He shouldn’t have been,” Frankie countered. “Myla’s always called him out on his shit.”

“Yeah, but it was different,” Lou argued.

“He needs to man up,” Frankie said flatly. “I love the guy, but seriously, grow a pair.”

“Do you think he’ll agree to just pretend it didn’t happen?” I asked quietly. “Because that’s really the ideal outcome at this point.”

Frankie laughed.

“He’ll call,” Lou assured me. “He probably just needed a minute to think about it.”

“He’s had enough minutes,” Frankie shot back. “I say we go out tonight and find you a random.”

“That is the worst idea in the history of ideas,” Lou hissed. “Don’t listen to her.”

My dad called Lou and Frankie the angel and devil on my shoulders. He wasn’t wrong.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll let you know what’s going on at some point,” Frankie said with a sigh, straightening from her slouch. “But right now you need to get your ass dressed and go thrifting with us.”

“Yes!” Lou cheered. “Thrifting makes everything better. It’s science.”

“We really shouldn’t be buying anything else,” I muttered as I stood up. “We don’t have any room for more shit.”

“There’s always more room,” Frankie argued. “Plus, we’ll eventually move out—”

“No, we won’t,” Lou called as we left her in the kitchen. “We’re going to live here together until we’re little old ladies with cats!”

“She really needs to get laid,” Frankie joked quietly. “Anyway, we have so much stuff that when we move out, we’ll already have all the furniture we need.”

“But until that point, we’ll look like hoarders,” I replied, leaving her in the hallway.

I didn’t really feel like going anywhere, but we’d all been friends long enough that I knew resistance was futile. They’d drag my ass with them whether I felt like facing the day or not. It was something I loved about us. No woman was left behind, even if that woman was feeling heartbroken and more than a little humiliated.

“I found an estate sale! We need to go soon or everything good will be gone,” Lou called through my door. “They open in half an hour!”

Throwing on some jeans and a sweater, I grabbed my raincoat out of the closet. It wasn’t raining yet, but the sky was an ominous gray. It was always safe to plan for rain in the fall. Even on days you thought it would be clear—in Oregon, the chance of a surprise rain shower was pretty high.

Pausing at my vintage vanity, I pulled my hair up into a high bun and swiped on some lip gloss and mascara. It didn’t do much to hide the fact that I’d clearly had a hard night, but at least I looked a little more put together. I left the room and met the girls by the front door just as my phone rang.

“Is it Cian?” Lou asked as I followed them outside.

My heart pounded until I pulled the phone out of my jacket pocket. “No, my mom.”

“He better get his shit together,” Frankie told Lou as I put the phone to my ear. “If he doesn’t call soon, we’re going to move on to the angry part of the Myla show. She’s sad now. Later, it’ll be rage.”

I flipped her off. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, baby, whatcha doin?”

“Headed to an estate sale. What are you doing?”

“I’m bored,” she said with a laugh. “Your dad’s doing something with Uncle Will, so I’m just sitting at home.”

“Why don’t you call Aunt Molly? She’s probably as bored as you.”

“No, she’s doing something with Reb today. That’s why Will stole your dad. He was the original bored person.”

I laughed.

“Ask her if she wants to come with us,” Frankie said as we climbed in her Tahoe. “I’ll pick her up.”

“You want us to come get you?” I asked Mom.

“Yes,” she replied before I’d even stopped talking. “I just need to put my face on.”

“Well, hurry,” I ordered. “We’ll be there in seven minutes.”

“Only takes me six,” she joked. “See you soon. Love you. Bye.”

I snickered as she hung up.

“Ground rules,” Lou said from the back seat. “Someone runs interference with Heather when it’s time to pay. She always pays, and then I feel guilty for weeks.”

“She likes doing it,” I pointed out, turning to look at her.

“And I love her for it,” she said in exasperation. “But I do have money.”

“Not the kind of money Myla’s parents have,” Frankie joked.

“Just because they have money doesn’t mean she needs to pay for my tchotchkes,” Lou shot back.

“I’m kidding,” Frankie replied, glancing at her in the mirror. She shot me a look. “Run interference for me, too.”

“No problem,” I said breezily, knowing my mom would see right through it.

Mom didn’t just throw money around. My parents lived in the same house that I’d grown up in, and it wasn’t anything fancy. They actually lived pretty modestly. Heather Hawthorne just liked to treat her kids when she spent time with them, and she considered Lou and Frankie her kids along with me and my brothers.

When my parents were young, my dad got a wild hair and bought a run-down house to fix up. He’d sold it, bought another, and suddenly a side business had taken off. He worked at the club’s garage full time, but he liked remodeling houses and he was good at it, so he just kept doing it. He’d kept some of the houses as rentals over the years, but he’d sold most of them—all for a profit, except for the ones me and my brothers had bought from him.

Frankie honked the horn as we pulled into my parents’ driveway.

“Thank you,” I said, watching the front door. “If I have to go inside to get her, we won’t leave for half an hour.”

“Their house is a little like a time warp,” Frankie agreed. “It never feels like we’re there very long until we step outside and realize it’s been hours.”

“Half the time I fall asleep on the couch,” Lou said, leaning forward between the seats.

“It works for you,” I assured her. “It goes with the homeless waif thing you’ve got going.”

“I don’t look homeless,” she protested, smacking me.

“Not a modern homeless person,” I replied defensively, leaning away from her reach.

Frankie nodded. “Like a Victorian waif. All pale and skinny and ethereal.”

“And they’re unhoused people,” Lou snapped.

“Poor choice of words,” I conceded. “I apologize.”

“You’re more like a fairy,” Frankie said conciliatorily.

“What, like Tinkerbell?” Lou huffed incredulously.

“No, like that one in Lord of the Rings ,” Frankie said, waving at my mom through the windshield.

“There are no fairies in Lord of the Rings ,” Lou argued.

“She means Arwen,” I said, watching as my mom threw her huge purse over her shoulder and sauntered toward us. “She’s an elf.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll accept that,” Lou said, sitting back in her seat.

“My girls,” Mom called as I rolled down my window. “I’ll sit in the back with Lou!”

“That’s good,” I replied as she opened the back door. “Because I wasn’t going to give you my seat.”

“Cute.” She wrinkled her nose before smiling. “Thanks for picking me up!”

“Anytime,” Frankie said, putting the SUV in reverse. “You ready to hunt for some treasures?”

“Yes. I’ve been looking online—”

“Mom’s the queen of social media shopping,” I cut in.

“Shut it,” she replied, no heat in her tone. “When people sell shit in the local groups, they just want to get rid of their stuff, so it’s usually cheaper than actual estate sales where they’re trying to make a profit.”

“She’s not wrong.” Lou chuckled.

“Anyway,” Mom said. “I’m looking for jadeite, so if you see some, let me know.”

“Got it,” Frankie replied. “I’m still searching for matching nightstands. The condition doesn’t matter as much because I’ll refinish them anyway.”

“Any specific style?”

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for yet,” Frankie replied. “I’ll know when I see them.”

“Pyrex for me,” Lou said. “Any of them. I’m not picky, but condition does matter.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” my mom said happily. “What about you, daughter? Looking for anything specific?”

“Nope, just there to browse.”

“Which means you’ll come home with more than the rest of us put together,” Lou joked.

“Probably,” I said, grinning at her over my shoulder. “I’m keeping an eye out for Christmas, though, and anything I get for someone else doesn’t really count.”

“That seems fair,” Lou agreed.

“I’m already half done with Christmas,” my mom said proudly. “I thought buying for five kids was overwhelming when you guys were little. I really should’ve realized at some point you would have families of your own and the gifts would multiply exponentially.”

“We should do an exchange,” I replied distractedly, looking at my phone again. No notifications. “We could do a secret Santa or something. Then you wouldn’t have to buy so many.”

Mom hummed. “No, I like getting presents for everyone.”

“Okay, well, the rest of us wouldn’t have to buy presents for twenty people,” I said with a laugh.

“You can discuss that with your sisters-in-law,” Mom replied. “But I’m buying presents for everyone.”

“Fair enough.”

“Aw, shit,” Frankie grumbled, pulling into the grass in front of an old house. There were cars everywhere. “There’s so many people here already.”

“Divide and conquer,” my mom advised.

We trudged up to the house and weaved our way through the crowd. It always felt a little weird at estate sales. Garage sales were different, people put the things they wanted to sell right out front—you weren’t actually in their house. At estate sales, it was like walking into life interrupted. There were clothes in the closets, dishes in the cupboards, and furniture set out in the rooms.

I always wondered where the people had gone. Were they dead or just downsizing? The estate sales that a company was hosting were the creepiest, because inevitably I overheard them saying too much about the owners of the house or absolutely refusing to say anything—which always made me imagine the worst. It felt intensely personal to go through a stranger’s things, deciding if there was anything you wanted to take home with you. It was even worse to see other people being careless with the treasures someone had spent their life accumulating.

The whole thing gave me the creeps, but I ignored it as I followed my mom through the house. I wished I was home in my pajamas.

To be fair, I did like searching for treasures, I just liked finding them in second-hand stores more.

“Stick with me, kid.” Mom twined her arm through mine as I watched some guy pick up an old watch and then toss it carelessly back onto a table. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“These people should have some respect,” I said, not bothering to lower my voice. “All this stuff was important to someone at some point.”

A woman hurried out of our way.

“It’s easy to forget,” Mom said, tugging me along. “But I hear you. When me and Dad die, just take what you want and donate everything else to a woman’s shelter or something. I’d rather give it to someone who needs it.”

“You’re never going to die,” I replied. “I refuse to even think about it.”

“That’s my girl,” she teased. “Bury that head in the sand.”

“Besides, our family is so big, by the time everyone’s done picking it over, there won’t be anything left.”

“I knew there was a reason I had so many children.” She paused. “There’s a couple of nightstands.” She pointed across the room.

I looked at them. “Too bulky.”

“Too bad,” Mom mumbled, pulling me along. “So, what’s new with you?”

My head whipped toward her. “What makes you ask?”

Mom snorted. “Nice try with the mascara,” she said dryly. “But what you really needed were some cold cucumbers for those eyes.”

“Me and Cian had a thing last night,” I confessed, looking down at the table. “A fight, I guess.”

“What, another one?” She looked at me in surprise. “I thought you guys weren’t talking. How the hell did that happen?”

“Who told you we weren’t talking?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“He came over to boss me around—”

“Typical,” she muttered.

“And it pretty much went downhill from there,” I hedged. I generally told my mom everything, but the argument was still a little too raw to give her a play-by-play.

“You two need to just get over it and have sex already,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Mom,” I hissed, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we didn’t have any eavesdroppers. There were people everywhere.

“I know we’ve had the birds and the bees conversation,” she said, moving down the table. “But we can go over it again if you need to.”

“Why can’t you clam up and change the subject like other moms?” I whispered, following her.

“Sorry, baby, you’re stuck with the mom you got.” She grinned unrepentantly.

“He doesn’t want to have sex with me anyway,” I mumbled.

Mom froze and looked at me over her shoulder before bursting into laughter.

“I’m serious.”

“I can see that,” she said, still smiling. “But you’re still wrong.”

“That’s what he said.”

“He said he doesn’t want to have sex with you?”

“He said he cares about me,” I admitted.

“I’m sure he does.” Her lips twitched.

“Yeah, it’s real funny,” I griped, pointing at my face. “I obviously thought it was super funny half the night, too.”

“Aw, baby,” she said, the smile dropping off her face. She pulled me into a hug, bumping into a middle-aged guy that was trying to see around us. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that,” I replied glumly, slumping against her.

“Oh, but I can,” she said, pulling away. “I’ll bet you ten dollars that Cian calls you by the end of the day.”

“You’re on. Plus, I want that silk robe you bought when you knew I wanted it.”

“The one from the garage sale last summer?”

“Oh, don’t play coy,” I shot back. “You know exactly which one.”

“Fine,” she said, tugging me along. “But if he calls, I get your vintage lace-up Docs.”

“That’s not an even bet!”

Mom hummed as we made our way through the house. “Okay, then the vintage Pendleton flannel. The blue one.”

“Fine.”

“Easiest thrift I’ve ever had,” she joked. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. There’s nothing in here I need. I want to search for those jadeite dishes. I got the cutest little salt-and-pepper shakers a couple weeks ago, and I really want a butter dish.”

“Are you going to do other dishes too?” I asked as I followed along. I wasn’t really seeing anything that was my style. “Like, to eat off of?”

“No, I’m keeping the cheap white ones,” Mom replied. “Easy to replace when someone breaks it.”

“If you wait until the grandkids are grown, you’ll never have cool dishes,” I pointed out.

“Who said it’s the grandkids? Your brothers break my shit, and they’re all grown.” She shrugged. “It’s not worth getting a set of dishes I’m too afraid to use.”

“Fair enough.” I helped her start going through the kitchen cabinets. “But you should get a cake stand and a pitcher, at least. So, it looks like a theme, not just random green pieces.”

“Ooh, a cake stand would be gorgeous in the corner of the counter.”

“Maybe even a big bowl to put fruit in,” I added.

“I like the way you think,” she said gleefully, her hand shooting out to grip my forearm. “I see a hutch in the dining room. This is not a drill.”

I chuckled as she rushed to the other room, following along a little more slowly.

I kept my phone close and checked it at least once an hour for the rest of the day. We went from sale to sale, following any little neon handwritten signs we found. There was a surprising amount considering the weather grew more and more miserable as the day went on. The girls were good at keeping me distracted, and Mom was even better—she’d been doing it since I was born. I barely had time to obsess over the fact that Cian still hadn’t reached out. It was only when we were in the car and they were discussing what they’d found that I had a few moments to wonder if I’d ruined things completely. A part of me had assumed that he would reach out, even if it was just to say that we were fine.

My mom talked us into having dinner with her and my dad, so we went there after we’d exhausted our shopping options and it started growing dark outside. Dad was already home, screwing around in the garage when we got there.

The moment I saw him, my stomach twisted with nerves. I’d seen my dad since he laid into me at the club, but we hadn’t really spent any time together. Usually, my brothers and their families were around as a buffer.

“Go say hello,” my mom ordered as Frankie parked. “Break the ice.”

“Stop reading my mind,” I grumbled.

“Why do you think I invited you over for dinner?” she scoffed, climbing out of her seat. “You walked right into it.”

Lou and Frankie laughed as I cursed.

I made my way slowly over to the garage as the rest of them abandoned me and headed inside.

“Hey Dad,” I called as I got closer.

“Oh, you’re talkin’ to me?” he called back, tossing something onto his workbench.

“I wasn’t ever not talking to you,” I hedged.

“Bullshit.”

“Well, you were an ass.”

Dad raised his eyebrows in surprise. To be honest, I was a little surprised I’d said it, too.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“I find your phone and blood on the ground,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not gonna put me in a good mood.”

“Once you saw I was fine, you should’ve—”

“Doesn’t work that way,” he cut me off.

“I’m sorry you were worried—”

He made a sound of disgust in his throat. “Worried doesn’t cut it,” he said flatly. “Not even fuckin’ close.”

“Okay, well, still,” I said, throwing my hands up. “I wasn’t wasted. I didn’t get sloppy and dumb—I did everything I was supposed to.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t find you out back with that piece of shit,” he said, leaning against the bench. “Killin’ the member of another club would cause more problems than you can even comprehend.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be hanging out with shitty clubs,” I snapped.

Dad just looked at me. We both knew that the clubs they associated with weren’t known for their good manners. The men I’d been surrounded by my entire life weren’t exactly polite company, to be delicate about it. I was allowed at the club during parties, because most people knew that I was Tommy Hawthorne’s daughter. The club was a protection I’d always been able to take for granted—but I’d been warned that there was always a chance that there would be someone stupid enough to cross the line. I’d gotten complacent. Cian was completely justified when he’d questioned my common sense—I’d just been too angry to hear it.

“I had it handled,” I said, lowering my voice. “Even before Cian got there.”

“Somethin’ like that happens again, you come find me.”

“You were asleep.”

“You come find me,” he repeated.

“I will,” I said in exasperation. “We cool?”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he muttered, grabbing a rag off the workbench to wipe off his hands. “Just like your mother.”

“Aw, Dad,” I sang, clasping my hands under my chin. “That’s the nicest compliment you’ve ever given me.”

“Smartass.” He grinned and slung an arm over my shoulders. “Come on, I need a beer.”

“Mom wants us to stay for dinner,” I said, walking in step with him as we headed toward the front door.

“Oh, yeah? What’s she makin’?”

“No clue. I thought you’d know.”

“I never know anythin’ around here,” he complained. “I came home the other day, and she was tryin’ to peel beadboard off the walls in the hallway—she tell you that?”

“Nope.” I huffed out a laugh.

“It was a goddamn mess.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Keeps me on my toes, though,” he said, grinning as he let me go.

“You’ll never be bored,” I agreed, following him up the porch steps.

“Woman, what’s for dinner?” Dad called out obnoxiously as he threw open the front door.

“Make your own fucking dinner,” Mom shouted back. “You’ve got two hands and a semi-functional brain!”

“Shit. I’m gonna have to order somethin’,” Dad muttered. He stomped toward the kitchen.

“I got new curtains for the bedroom,” my mom announced cheerfully.

“Well, thank God,” my dad said dryly, walking straight for her.

“You could be a little excited.”

“We’ve got fuckin’ blinds in our bedroom,” he replied, reaching for her.

“Shield your eyes,” I yelled dramatically as he pulled her in for a kiss.

Frankie laughed like a lunatic as I threw my hand in front of my face.

“I think it’s cute,” Lou said dreamily.

“Ugh.” I peeked through my fingers, and my dad’s hands were still gripping my mom’s ass. “That’s not cute. Hands to ourselves, people!”

Mom giggled and danced away from Dad.

“Weren’t you headed back to your own house?” Dad asked me, hands on his hips. “I swear you said somethin’ about not bein’ hungry.”

“This will always be my house, and I’m starving ,” I shot back.

“That’s right,” my mom agreed. “Tommy, order some food, would you?”

I laughed when my dad’s eyes met mine, his face expressionless.

For the next hour, with my parents playing grab-ass and my friends lapping up their particular brand of crazy, I barely thought of Cian at all.

Well, I pretended anyway.

The next morning, I called Mom to tell her she owed me ten dollars and a silk robe.