Saving Axe (Motorcycle Club Romance, Cowboy, Military) (Inferno Motorcycle Club) (11 page)

“
Do I get boots and everything?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said.
 “I think sneakers may have to do for now.  We’ll have to look at getting boots for you.”

"Hey MacKenzie," April said, looking at me meaningfully.  "I have something inside for you."

"What?  Is it a present?"  MacKenzie bounced off, trailing behind her mother.

I met Cade's gaze, my heart skipping a beat as I took him in, standing there in his jeans, cowboy hat tilted down over his forehead.  He looked so much like how I remembered him.  So much like the man I thought he'd become.

"Junebug," he said.  "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I didn't expect to come here."

"June, I - " he started.  "About the other night, I -"

I shrugged.  "You were drunk."

"I was stupid," he said, his voice low.  "Coming over there like that.  I didn't mean - I didn't think you were going to just - "

"Screw you because you showed up, drunk, on my front porch?"

"Something like that," he said.  He grinned wickedly.  "I mean, a guy can hope."

I opened my mouth to say something, but Stan appeared in the doorway.  "
Everything look okay with the cattle?” he asked.

“Yeah, pop,” Cade said.
  "I noticed a couple of calves that were still slick though, I'll need to head back and separate them to get brands on them."  

“Good,” Stan said.
 “Cade, why don’t you come in and clean up.  Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Dinner was a rambunctious event, with lots of laughter and joking.
 After it was finished and MacKenzie was in bed, we sat around the table.  I sipped slowly at a glass of wine, my stomach full.  Despite my misgivings about coming here, I was glad I came.

April peered closely at the photos hanging on the wall, of Cade during hig
h school.  “Look at you, Axe,” she said.  “You were a football stud, huh?”

"First Team All-State Linebacker, b
aby,” he said, grinning.  He gulped down his iced tea and looked over at me.  “I was hot shit back then, wasn’t I?” he asked, winking at me.

“You were definitely something,” I said.
 “I don’t know if
hot shit
is the right term.”

“Whatever,” Cade said.
 “Captain of the football team?  All the ladies wanted me.”

Stan laughed.
 “Never had a problem with self-esteem, this one,” he said.

“No kidding,” I said.
 “He was always a cocky little shit.”

“Hand me that photo there, April,” Stan said, taking it in his hands and displaying it to everyone.
 “This picture is of my son when he was playing fullback his sophomore year in high school.  West Bend players had to play on both offense and defense, real Iron Man football.  Cade was the fullback and a linebacker."

“Dad used to
love to brag on me,” Cade said.

C
runch laughed.  “I want to see the bad prom photos.”

“Were you a cheerleader, June?” April
asked.

I laughed, cho
king on my wine.  “God, no,” I said.

“June wasn’t the cheerleader type,” Cade said, looking at me.
 “She was more into all the alternative stuff.  Grunge type.  Moody.”

“I was not moody,” I protested.

“Really?”  Cade asked.  “As I remember it, you wore black for most of sophomore year.”

“I remember you didn’t seem
to mind it too much back then,” I said.

He held up his han
ds.  “I didn’t mind it at all.  Your mom was the one who told you she wouldn't buy you any more clothes unless they were neon.”

I laughed. 
“She was so upset about the black nail polish all the time.”

“You were good for Cade, though,” Stan said
.  I could see Cade squirm uncomfortably in his chair. “Even if you wore black all the time.”

“
Is your family around here, June?”  April asked.

Everything got quiet, and it was like all the air was sucked out of the room.
 Stan and Cade exchanged knowing looks.

“Did I say something wrong?”
 April asked.  "Sorry.  I have a tendency to poke my nose in places it doesn't belong."

“You’re fine,” I sai
d.  “It’s not some big secret.”

“June, we don’t need to talk about it,” Stan
started, and I interrupted him.

“Really, it’s fine, Mr. Austin,” I said.
 “It was years ago.”  April looked embarrassed, and I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.  One thing I hated about coming back home was that it was like stepping back in time.  People assumed I felt the same as if it had just happened yesterday.  They assumed I was a child.

“It was years ago,” Stan said.
 “But it was my responsibility.”

“No, Mr. Austin, it wasn’t,” I said.
 “And April, it’s fine, really.  You’re not overstepping anything.”  April looked confused, while Stan sat across from me, studying his cup of coffee.  I only realized then how much guilt he carried with him for my family’s deaths, and it made me feel sad.  I wondered if Cade was carrying the same burden.

Cade cleared his throat and looked
up at me.  “June,” he started.

“No,” I said.
 “There’s nothing wrong with asking about it, and I want to clear the air.  April, when I was seventeen, my parents died.  They were killed in an accident, by a drunk driver.  The driver," I said, leaning forward as I looked at Mr. Austin, "was one of the ranch hands who worked here, for Mr. Austin.  My sister and him had a thing going on, that Mr. Austin didn't know anything about."  I emphasized the words, trying to make it clear to Stan that he wasn't at fault.

"
Anyway, my sister went out to a party with him, and my parents went out looking for her.  It was bad luck, what happened.  And my sister felt guilty.  She killed herself later."

I
watched Cade and Stan, neither of whom would look at me.  "No one was responsible for what happened, except the ranch hand, and he’s dead.  My sister was running wild back then, and even if anyone had known, she wouldn’t have listened to anyone.  It was just how she was.”

“
I’m sorry,” April said.

“Thank you,” I said.
 “But it wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t anyone else's, including Mr. Austin or Cade’s."

April averted her gaze.  It was shit like this that made telling this story difficult.  People heard it, and it was such a tragedy that they wouldn't look me in the eye because beca
use they were so uncomfortable.  I hated that more than anything.

"Everything about what happened was senseless," I said.  "But it's
even more senseless if you all are still taking responsibility for it."

I looked directly at Cade.  I knew he blamed himself.  It was the kind of man he was, always accepting responsibility for others.  It was part of his nature.

“It’s good of you to say that, June,” Stan said.  “But -"

“No,” I said.
 “There are no ‘buts’.  This was never your fault.  It wasn’t Cade’s.  And it wasn’t mine."

The room was silent, and the air felt thick.
 I wasn’t sure what else to say.  There had been so much that had been unspoken, for so long.

It was late when I finally left Stan’s house, and I’d walked a few feet across the
pasture when I heard the screen door slam, and footsteps behind me.

“June,” Cade called, jogging up behind me.
 “I’ll walk you home.”

“It’s a hundred yards away
.  I don't need an escort,"  I said.  I couldn't help but add, "Certainly not one who thinks he's going to come over and I'm going to beg him to screw me."

Cade took my forearm, and I turned to look up at him, surprised by his touch.  "June," he said.

"What?" I forced myself not to think about the heat that ran through my body where he touched me.

"
What you said tonight, about your sister, your parents -”

"I don't want your dad to blame himself." 
Or you to blame yourself.

Cade nodded, his expression serious.  "My dad," he said.  "It tore him up, what happened to your sister."

“I know,” I said.  “I mean, I didn’t know back then.  I realize now.”

“It ate at him,” Cade said.

We weren't just talking about his dad.

"It wasn't his fault," I said.  "He couldn't have known about the ranch hand.  And my sister, you know how she was."

"You know how my father is," Cade said.  "How he's always been.  Protective."

His eyes burned wi
th intensity, and I suddenly became aware of the tension between us.  I stepped away from him, away from his touch.

"Well, I just wanted to clear the air," I said.

“Junebug,” he said.  “It wasn’t just him that was torn up.”

“I know, Ca
de," I said, before I turned and walked away.

Axe

I walked away from June's house, filled with this strange mixture of emotions I couldn't place.  What June had said about her parents, about her sister - that it wasn't my dad's fault.  That part was true.  But it was mine.  She thought I was blaming myself for no reason.  She didn't know everything.
  If she did, she wouldn't be able to do anything except blame me.

She didn't know that I'd caught her sister and the ranch hand, walked in on them together in the barn.  She'd only just turned eighteen and he was older, too old for her.  I sent her home, warned him to stay away from him.

But I should have had a more physical conversation with him.  If I'd have run him out of town, none of the rest of it would have ever happened.  He may have been older than I was, but I should have beat the living shit out of him right then.  Everything would be different.

Not only for them, but for June and I.

We might have ended up in West Bend, running the ranch, a couple of kids in tow.  We might have grown old together, the way we'd talked about.

Back then, I'd thought she was it.  The one.

Back then.
  Who the fuck was I kidding?  She
was
the one.

She always had been, from the very beginning.

People say you don't know yourself well enough when you're in high school to know if you want to get married.  They say you'll change so much you'll just wind up growing apart.

The part about changing was true.  I sure as shit wasn't the same person I was in high school.  But growing away from June?

I had been trying to do that for years, and I couldn't.

No matter how hard I tried.

And it was destroying me, eating me up from the inside.

Standing there with her outside the house, I could barely think.  I was the one who wanted to beg
her
.  I wanted to grab her, throw her over my shoulder, carry her inside the house.  It was painful standing there, but not just because of what she was talking about.  She was a painful reminder of who I used to be.

Of who I could have been, with her.

Of what I would never have now.

That night, I slept fitfully, the way I always did.  But it wasn't the dreams of Iraq that haunted me.  It was dreams of June.

The next afternoon, I walked down the sidewalk, headed for the general store.  MacKenzie wanted cowboy boots, and I was going to get her a real pair.  She'd ridden one of the horses this morning, squealing with delight perched high on top of the saddle.  I figured I'd make her day if I could find her a little pair of boots all her own.

Maybe I was getting soft in my old age, but that kid killed me.  Having her here was like getting to peek into another life, the one I would have had if I'd have stayed here.

I lingered on the sidewalk.  It was amazing, how much the town had changed.  And how little had changed, all the same.  Funny how that worked.  The old barber shop was there, with its same outdated sign, repainted a hundred times, the cracks showing through the layers of paint.  There was a new sporting goods store, with expensive gear.  Catering to the tourist crowd, I supposed.  And Nina's coffee shop was still there.  I glanced in the window as I passed by, and saw her.

June.

No, not
her
.

Them.

Her and a sheriff.  I stood there, staring through the window like a crazy person, but neither of them noticed. 
Shit.
  June and a fucking cop.

I squinted.  It took me a minute to recognize him.  Fucking Jed Easton. 
He looked different, but it was him.  He'd always had a thing for June, back when we were kids.

I turned around, fists clenched, headed back in the direction of my dad's truck
.  I needed to leave now, before I did something colossally stupid, something that would jeopardize Crunch and his family.  I needed to think about them, not myself.

Fucking Jed.  So he was the town sheriff now.

And June.

My mind swirled with possibilities. 
Would June be ratting us out to a cop?  Or...was she dating him?

I didn't know which alternative pissed me off more.

“I’m going for a ride.”  I stormed past my father on the way to the bedroom to change clothes.  What I wanted was a fucking drink.

Screw June and whatever it was she had going on with Jed back in town.

"Cade."  My dad stood in the bedroom doorway.

"What?"  The word came out as a snap, harsher than I intended.

"Did something happen in town?"

“No,” I said automatically.
 “Maybe.  I don't know.”

“Anything that’s going to affect that little girl in there?” he asked, referring to MacKenzie.
 My father was already protective of her, and I felt a pang of guilt that she was involved in all this club bullshit.

“I don’t know, Pop,” I said.
 I could feel the blood pumping in my ears, and I could barely hear what he said above the din of my own blood pressure.  All I knew was that I had the nearly irrepressible urge to throttle that Jed guy.  "Do you know Jed Easton?"

"Yep," he said.  "Sheriff in town."

"What do you know about him?”

“Why are you asking?”
  My father's eyes narrowed, immediately suspect.  I'm sure he thought I was asking for some reason that had to do with my criminal enterprises.  My father thought I was scum of the earth, I knew it.  I couldn't exactly fault him for thinking that way.  Not when it was true.

"June was at Nina's, having coffee with him."

My father studied me.  "Do you care because she was having coffee with a cop, or because she was having coffee with someone that wasn't you?"

Screw my dad, too.
  I reached for my hat.  "I need to get out of here."

My dad nodded, a knowin
g look in his eyes.  "Saddle up Moonie.  She needs to be ridden."

As I rode away from the house, I could feel myself start to calm down, the same way as when I rode the bike.  That bike had been my saving gr
ace too many times to count, a way to get away and leave it all behind.

You can't run away from this,
my dad had said when I'd joined the Marines.  He didn't understand that I needed to get out of this town.  It was filled with memories of her.

Memories of
my failure.

My dad thought I
had run to the Marines because of June.  He didn't know it was also because of what I'd done.  I'd kept that secret, about June's sister and the ranch hand.  If I hadn't, if I'd have done something about it, they'd be alive right now.

He didn't understand that I never wanted June to stay.  If she stayed, she'd find out that I'd done nothing to stop what happened.  She'd never forgive me.

Joining the Marines was a way of atoning.

How could I have known I'd wind up being a sniper?

So much for atoning.

I had a hell of a lot more to atone for now.

I stopped at the ridge and dismounted, stood there with my hand on the horse, feeling her breath rise and fall, the warmth of her flank under my palm.  For the very briefest of moments, I was sixteen again, standing on this ridge, imagining my life stretched out before me.

Infinite possibilities and
boundless optimism.

Fuck if it ended up that way.

Maybe I began my descent during the Marines, after all the bullshit deployments had finally eaten away at my soul.  But I didn't go full fucking throttle into the abyss until I joined the Inferno.  I was drifting, after I got out of the Marines.  No, not drifting.  I was fucking lost at sea with no rudder.  No structure, no purpose.  Just me and all the memories of the shit I'd done and seen.  I was filled with rage, and no amount of talking about my feelings was going to change it.  And I couldn't come home and face all the people who knew me, once upon a time.  I couldn't face my dad, most of all.

So I'd picked Los Angeles.  I figured I'd always heard people talk about how soul-sucking it was.  It would be a perfect fit for me, the man without a soul.  I got a job as a supervisor at a warehouse.  Turns out
, being a supervisor at a warehouse is really fucking boring.

So when
one of my buddies introduced me to Blaze, Vice-President of the Inferno MC, it seemed like an ideal place for someone like me.  I wasn't the only disillusioned veteran there.  My buddy fell out while prospecting, but me?  I went full monty, prospected and patched.  Worked my way up pretty quick, too.