Chapter 04

Killian,

Here is your Cedar Harbor Weekly Update:

I got a new cat… well, I found a new cat, and said cat didn’t get along with Sir Remington—no one gets along with Sir Remington.

Declan now has a cat—yes, you read that correctly. Raven convinced Declan to keep the cat on a trial basis. I know you’re laughing. We’ve all been. Turns out, the cat may like Raven, but it loves Declan. L.O.V.E.S. him. Raven has pictures of Declan sleeping with the cat under his chin—I’ve attached one of those pictures.

Lucas and Stacey broke up. He’s more upset than he’s letting on. She’s dating Sebastian Jr. now. It’s weird.

David’s taking Mom on her first vacation since she had us. Raven convinced him to surprise her with a trip to Ireland. Yes, you read that right. Mom is going to Ireland. We’re all putting together a pile of gift cards for her so she can feel guilt-free buying all the things for herself. Let me know if you want in.

Mom still hasn’t quite admitted out loud to us that she’s dating David. Declan is worried she’s ashamed—like she shouldn’t be doing so. He did say that Mom and Raven have had a lot of conversations about it. For as good as Raven is for Declan, I think Raven is good for Mom too.

Sam kicked Finn out. Dropped him off on Mom’s doorstep after he accidentally set the kitchen on fire. It was a huge fiasco.

Esther and Vera put up the zombies again. They’re dressed as superheroes this year. The costumes are impressive.

My next book releases in a month. Declan also found out about the notebook. I’m currently hiding it from him because no. I’m not giving it to him.

We’re all ready for the Fall Games. Declan is coming—he actually took time off work to do the whole trip with us.

We’re going down in three cars. Declan and Raven will go down in his truck with Holly, but Declan plans to stay back so he can take your motorcycle like you asked.

Halloween is coming up, and since you’ll be here, we drew names. It hasn’t felt right without you.

You got Lucas.

Declan got me.

Finn got Declan

Sam got you.

Lucas got Finn.

And I got Sam.

I’m going to steal one of Sam’s overall sets I think. And maybe a wrench or something. Wrenches are used on cars, right? To Google, I go.

We miss you. See you soon.

Nolan

Well, at least he didn’t sign off this one with his cats as well. I grinned as I read over the email one more time. Declan was actually going to the Fall Games. Fuck, I couldn’t remember the last time he participated in them. And the fucking cat picture? Fucking gold. I was saving that shit to make Declan’s contact picture. And Mom going on vacation? She deserved it. If anyone deserved a vacation away from Cedar Harbor, it was her.

Shit.I read through the email once more. This would be the last one—a wild fucking concept to me. Nolan had been emailing me weekly for three years to tell me everything going on. I never emailed back, he never asked me to, and yet, here we were. Somehow, his emails had become a lifeline while I was gone. They let me keep a part of home always, even though I couldn’t bring myself to return until I was ready.

At least, I thought I was fucking ready.

I sank down to the edge of the bed and stared at my shit.

My life fit in two medium suitcases, a carry-on bag, and one small box. Oh, and my guitar case. How fucking pathetic was that? Had I really been living off so little for three years? Shit, I was fairly certain I had more random crap on the floor of my Jeep than I had in that fucking box.

My eyes roamed over everything I owned. Yeah, definitely pathetic. Granted, the last time I’d set down roots and settled in, my whole world had been ripped to fucking shreds. There was something safe about just sticking with the basics and knowing I could leave at a moment’s notice. Maybe it didn’t work for everyone else in my life, but it worked for me.

“You know,” Roan began, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway, “you don’t have to go back. Dad said the house is yours as long as you want it. I think he’s a fan of the constant vacation.”

Didn’t blame him in the least for that.

“I have to,” I said. “At the very least, if I fucking fail, I have to look my pack in the eyes and tell them I fucking suck and they deserve better than the likes of me.”

“I think you’re underselling yourself,” he replied. “You’ve always had your pack’s best interests in mind.”

“No, I ran away with my tail between my legs and fucking left them,” I snapped. For as much shit as I’d been through, that was the harsh reality of that. My family loved me. They got it. But my pack? I’d fucking bailed on them without a fucking word. That shit haunted me.

Maybe I wasn’t meant to stay in Cedar Harbor. There was a very good chance of that. A real fucking good chance. But my pack deserved my honesty about my shortcomings. And so did my brothers. If I was going to let them down, I had to do it to their faces.

“You do you, man.” Roan sighed and stretched, rapping his fingers on the top of the doorframe. “Me? I don’t think you did a fucking thing wrong. There’s nothing wrong with doing you for a while. Fuck. Axel up and leaves whenever the hell he wants. We never make a big deal of it.”

I just stared at him. Me and Axel were nothing alike. For starters, Axel battled childhood cancer. Twice. And the second time damn near killed him. The kid could do whatever the fuck he wanted at this point, and no one would say a fucking word. Me? I fucking left my broken-hearted and hurting wife in the hospital, got drunk in a bar, and drove my ass to Roan’s house. I’d spent three years avoiding her and chasing fucking criminals around. Me and Axel weren’t on the same fucking boat. Ever.

“You guys ready to go?” I asked, changing the topic. Roan and I would always disagree on that topic. He’d been trying to justify my leaving for three years. My guilt wasn’t having that shit.

“Yeah, about that…” He clicked his tongue. That wasn’t good.

“What the fuck’s wrong?”

“So, you know how I’m asking Sawyer to step in while the three of us are gone?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. Sawyer Atwater was Roan’s best friend. The guy was about as damn near an Ironwood as he could get without actually being one. He was as involved with their pack’s well-being as the Ironwoods were. No questions asked.

“All he asked was that we do something for him,” Roan said. “Well, that I do something for him.”

A slow grin curled my lips. Poor fucking bastard. I knew exactly what he was about to say.

“He asked me to bring Violet,” he continued. “Apparently, she wants to see the Stone pack house and get a tattoo from the infamous Beatrice Stone.”

I bit back a laugh. Violet Atwater was the bane of Roan’s existence. Freshly twenty-one and a fucking lingerie model, the girl was drop-dead gorgeous with her honey-blonde curls, hazel green eyes, and curves a man could lose himself in. While the girl could’ve had anyone, everyone knew she only had eyes for Roan—apparently the nearly fifteen-year age gap only made him more attractive to her. And the girl loved to play with fucking fire, testing his limits every chance she had.

The real problem was just how much Roan liked it. He liked toying with her just as much as she did with him. He’d never cross the boundary—she was too fucking young for him—but damn if she didn’t try. There was no way that man would survive the trip with that girl on the back of his motorcycle the whole way. Not with her hands all over him.

“And what do you want me to do about it, Roan?” I stood and grabbed the backpack I planned to take with me. I didn’t need much for the trip. “Sounds like you’re shit out of luck. Karma’s going to make you her bitch—and Vi’s.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Killian!” Roan exclaimed as he followed me through the house. “Don’t make me ride the whole damn way with her. You know her hands will be on my dick before we ever hit the highway. That’s fucking torture, and I ain’t no cradle robber.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” I teased. My smile widened. I loved watching him fucking flinch.

“Just let her ride with you, man,” he practically begged. “She likes you. She’s always bragging about her singing lessons with you. And she won’t cop a fucking feel when she rides with you.”

No, she fucking wouldn’t. I’d put a stop to that shit real fast when I started teaching her how to sing. Yeah, Violet Atwater had a thing for older men. Much older. But me? I was married and made sure she knew it. All my appeal vanished apparently when I’d told her that.

“Fine,” I said and was greeted with a heavy sigh of relief. I should’ve made him work for it more. Watching him beg would’ve been fun. “But you fucking owe me.”

“Deal.”

“Whatever, wherever, whenever. I mean it.”

“Done,” Roan agreed all too readily. “Whatever you want.”

“If I tell you to go fucking streaking down Main Street, you fucking do it. Got it?” I demanded.

“You twisted fucking bastard.” He laughed. “If I knew you wanted to see my dick so much, I wouldn’t have invited you to stay.”

“Please, you wave that fucking thing around like it’s a prize to be shown off,” I scoffed. True story. Roan didn’t need being a wolf as an excuse to be naked. “I grew up with your dumbass. I’ve seen more of that fucking thing than I’ve ever wanted. You and that fucking helicopter bullshit.”

“It makes the ladies smile.”

“It’s not making me smile.” Keys in hand, I locked up the house after we stepped out on the front porch. Sure enough, Violet paced the short drive alongside Roan’s motorcycle, her expression bored as she popped that goddamn sucker in and out of her mouth. I didn’t know a single fucking adult in my life who kept suckers around like this woman did. It drove me fucking nuts during her singing lessons. Fuck, I’d be dealing with that goddamn popping sound for the whole fucking trip. I glared at Roan. “You fucking owe me, you furry asshole.”

“I know,” he grumbled. “Better you and that stupid sucker than me and my dick. Shit.”

“Debatable,” I shot back before grinning at Violet, a gesture she returned. Truly, I liked the kid. She wasn’t horrible by any means. I just had a real hard fucking time hanging out with anyone so damn young. The generation gap made my old man ass feel just that—old as fuck. Sometimes, when she said shit, it was as if she spoke a foreign language. “Violet, you’re with me.”

“What?” Those pink glossed lips pouted around that damn sucker, and she glanced at Roan in confusion. “I thought I was riding with you.”

“I get you on the way there,” I said casually. “We have to work on your singing before karaoke next week. We’re getting you up on that stage.”

Her eyes widened at the mention of a stage. Violet wanted to sing—and she was a damn good singer—but the poor girl got so nervous that she couldn’t get out a single word when put in front of an audience. Waltz around and be photographed in lingerie? Sure, she could do that. Sing while fully clothed in a bar full of strangers? Nope. That one got her.

“A little road trip karaoke never killed anyone,” Roan chimed in cheerfully. “And you’ve got your teacher the whole time. It’s a match made in heaven.”

I snorted, shaking my head. More like a match made in Roan’s version of hell. I swung my leg over my bike and settled in.

“Come on, Vi.” I patted the seat behind me. “You know I won’t steer you wrong.”

Steer her wrong? Never. Take the fastest fucking route possible so I wasn’t stuck with a passenger all the way to Colorado? Definitely.

Granted, the sound of Violet talking and singing my ear off for a few hundred miles might’ve been exactly what I needed to keep my mind off the same topic I seemed stuck on. I didn’t need to spend the whole fucking trip thinking about her.