Page 9 of When You Stayed
“With the right person, it’ll work. You need to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
I felt that weighty inspection from across the room. Ford was watching me, but I refused to look. My teeth were practically glued together with how angry I was. New leadership meant things wereabout to get turbulent and if things got messy, that meant my shot at being the new manager of the Hollow was as good as gone.
Dad began talking about my sister, and how worried he was about how frequently she left without telling him where she was going, but I couldn’t focus. My gaze finally lifted, landing on the boy across the garage, who wore his own leather cut, similar to my dad’s. I hadn’t been surprised when I heard Ford was pledging, but I was shocked that his parents didn’t seem to care. Especially his mother. As far as I knew, Callie had always been against it, but perhaps she’d changed her mind.
This was all his fault. If there wasn’t a legacy to hand leadership to, then Dad wouldn’t even consider stepping down. My mind went back to when we were kids and how we’d once argued about me inheriting the club over him. Ford was so upset at the idea that I might get what had been my dad’s because he felt like it was rightly his based on his grandfather.
How stupid of him to ever assume any man would give me a shot like that.
It gave me an idea, though. If Rodney was so worried about things getting dangerous for the town, I’d have to stick around and make sure they didn’t.
THREE
FORD
My cat hated my house.
It honestly made me consider whether it might be haunted because whenever I took him from my parents’ and let him out of his carrier in my living room, he’d huddle in a corner. Which wasn’t like him at all, and it wasn’t like I had other pets in the house to scare him.
“Is he sick?” Johnson asked while biting into a candy bar.
With my hand stretched toward my cat, I glared at my friend. “He’s not sick.”
“Seems sick.”
Gus wasn’t coming out of the corner no matter what I did. “Fuck.”
Johnson finished his candy and wadded up the wrapper while huffing out a laugh. “Ever think it might just be your house?”
“What’s wrong with it?” I had a roof over my head, fuckin’ walls and plumbing. Sure, it wasn’t as nice as my parents’ house, but between their place and the club, I was hardly home anyway.
Johnson’s hair was white by choice, he liked dying it that color and using a shit ton of product to style it. Which was unfortunate because his helmet completely ruined it. “You have a wicker couch for starters.”
I stood, deciding Gus would come out on his own. “It was on sale.”
“Normal couches also go on sale, Ford.” Johnson waved at my dining room in a wild gesture. “And real tables, what is this?”
I shrugged because how should I know? It held my food, what more did I need?
“Did you pick up all the reports?” I asked while biting into a chip. I scanned my kitchen, trying to see if there was something wrong with it too. It was ugly, but it was functional.
Johnson reached for the backpack near my wicker couch. “I got all but Dead Roses.”
I resisted the urge to yell at him. While I was more subdued than angry most of the time, the longer I was around the Stone Riders, and especially now with this new role, the more frequently the urge to scream surfaced.
“Did you even try?”
Johnson’s eyes bulged. “Did I try?”
“Did I fuckin’ stutter?” Seriously, why did I pick him to be my second? He was always eating something with sugar, always singing along to some song in his head, and laughed way too loud. And apparently, he lacked a set of balls that had dropped.
He turned the wrapper of his candy down so he could take another bite. “Your dad scares the ever-loving shit out of me. Being there alone with your mom and having him show up is a risk I don't want to take. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. I’ve heard rumors about your dad reacting poorly to guys being near your mom.”
Fuck. This really was my dad’s fault; the rumors were all true.
With a heavy sigh, I held out my hand. “Give me the bag. I’ll go do it.”
“You sure?” Johnson asked as if I had any choice now that he had chosen not to do it. I scanned his five-foot-three stature, his stocky build, and his glacial eyes, and remembered he was one of the most loyal men I had ever met.
