Page 7 of Judge's Mercy

My mouth opens and closes like a fish as I struggle to voice even the simplest of greetings. Tinleigh must share in my confusion because neither of us says a word, even when Myla stops in front of us.

“What?” she asks, cool as a cucumber.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Tinleigh hops off the stool. “You can’t possibly be my sister because she would’ve called me before changing her entire appearance.”

Myla’s chin lifts. “The same way you consulted me when you made plans to keep me safe from Neal?”

Damn, she went right for the jugular. It’s no secret that Tinleigh has kept a lot from Myla over the years. While it was done with the best of intentions, I can see that not telling Myla about what was going on has hurt her.

Tinleigh rears back. “You know why I did that.”

“I guess.” Myla reaches into the pocket of her hoodie and produces a cell phone she places on the bar in front of me. “I only stopped by to give you this.”

So that’s where I left it. I didn’t even notice it was gone until this morning.

“Thanks,” I say, keeping my thoughts about her makeover to myself—mostly because they aren’t appropriate. I’m just glad I’m sitting at the bar because she looks like sin, and I never claimed to be a saint.

“Myla—”

She cuts her sister off with a hand in her face. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean it; I’m just in a mood.”

“Don’t you start training today?”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much the only good thing to happen this morning.” She tucks her hands in her pockets.

“Why? What happened?” Tinleigh plays with a lock of Myla’s new hair.

“I just woke up with another one of those stupid headaches.”

“Did you call Bones?” I interject.

She narrows her icy blue eyes at me. “No.”

“Maybe you should,” Tinleigh says.

“And maybe everyone should stay out of my business!” Her booming voice echoes in the open space, drawing attention from everyone.

“Everything okay?” Sugar pops her head out of the kitchen, looking concerned. Having Mustang’s mom live with us is one of the best decisions we’ve made. Our club’s secretary might be her only biological kid, but from the day she came to live on the compound, she’s been a surrogate mom to all of us.

Myla ignores her, keeping her attention on Tinleigh. “Look, I just stopped by to give my babysitter his cell back before I head to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tinleigh looks defeated, and I feel pulled in two directions. On the one hand, I want to comfort my friend, but on the other, I want to give chase to the vixen who’s turning tail and sprinting out the door. Instead, I do neither.

“It’s all good, Sugar.” I flash her an appreciative smile.

She nods and disappears into her kitchen. The whole building might be owned by the Sons, but make no mistake: the kitchen is hers, and no one says shit because, before her, we ate nothing but processed meals from the freezer. Now, we eat like kings, and even more than that, we have the comfort only a maternal figure can give, something I had never experienced before. It didn’t take long for me to realize what I’d been missing all my life.

“What was that?” Tinleigh asks, reclaiming her stool and resting her chin in her hand.

“You know it had nothing to do with you, right?”

“Oh, I know.” She straightens her posture and huffs. “That was all her. I just wish I knew how best to support her.”

I cover her hand with mine. “The only thing you can do is be there for her, even through the ugliness.”

Our attention is pulled once again, but this time to the back door where Lucky walks in. Dressed in coveralls with a patch on the shoulder that says The Garage, he strolls past the large game room and stops alongside Tinleigh, his eyes locked on our joined hands. I smirk, stroking my thumb over her wrist before pulling away just to fuck with him.

He places his hands on his hips. “You know, I get that the two of you have this theological connection or whatever the fuck this is, but that doesn’t mean you need to put your hands on my woman.”

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