Page 53 of Throttle

The thing I keep dear is my family. But with elements of my personal journey—it was harder to be honest.

And that leads me to this exact topic. After giving in, I revealed a glimpse of my life. Telling them I spent most of my time living here. Opting to avoid involving Jules and her family. It horrified my parents to discover that I was staying with a bunch of biker guys.

Maybe I should have stuck with my drug infested apartment building.

Maggie found out they were in town and insisted on that dinner taking place. Was I insane about doing this? Possibly. Nevertheless, I introduce these individuals as my surrogate family. Terrified out of my mind? Yes, but ashamed? Never.

Yet here we stand, outside the Steel Valley Chains clubhouse, and shock lines on my parents' faces. How could I expect anything less?

I dropped a bomb.

My dad. I'm worried he might collapse. First, he rakes over the gym, then the bike shop, and finally, he sees the large metal structures parked along the side of the building. Becoming paler with every motorcycle scan.

I wince. "So, this is where I work and live." I should have prepared them better.

“Is t-this a motorcycle gang?” My mother is the rational one, but now I'm losing hope of that.

“Club. And well, kind of. I mean, yes, but—”

“You work with bikers. A bunch of gang members?” My dad’s tone is raging. Quivering. And he mumbles something in Spanish.

“Club,” I repeat, a bit more stern.

“Oh, damn,” my brother, Andrew, mumbles in his hand and my mom elbows him in his arm.

As the silence stretches into minutes, my courage wavers and I consider suggesting we leave, but then Maggie emerges. The warmth from her smile brings me the comfort I seek. As she approaches, the crunch of fallen leaves resonates from her black boots adorned with chains. She didn’t hide her biker's motherly vibe.

“Hey there. I’m so glad you made it. I’m Maggie.” She offers a handshake to my mom.

I anxiously wait for her reaction, but when she reciprocates and holds Maggie's hand, my shoulders relax.

“Susie. We apologize if this comes across as rude, but it's not quite what we expected. We weren’t expecting…” My mom glances over Maggie’s shoulder.

“I understand how you feel because if I were in your place, I’d be the same.” Maggie smiles, easing away the tension.

We head inside after introductions, and Throttle immediately captures my attention. His hair is neater, and he's sporting sleek dark slim jeans instead of the usual ripped ones. He changed his band tee to a grey Henley, which I admire for showcasing his arm muscles. His club’s cut resting over it. It appears he's trying to win over my family.

Regardless of the situation, I become much calmer with his smile and intense gaze. I never desire to lose that sentiment or the way he studies me. Like I’m the girl who wears the invisible crown, can carry out anything, and I want to keep that close.

As for my parents, I’d say they look less terrified, but it’s still early.

“You good?” Throttle appears next to my side, invading me with his earthy scent.

“I think so. It’s funny. The idea of showing them my actual place made me more anxious than having them come here. I suppose a part of me wasn't concerned about their disapproval. Anyway, everyone has something to take pride in, but what about me? Nothing comes to mind.”

I'm surprised when he grabs me and brings me to his embrace. His warm body pressing against mine is soothing and when he kisses the top of my head, my heart stills. “You are the smartest woman I have ever met. Your mere existence is that to be proud of. Remember, my Tequila Rose. We'll be by your side no matter what. Especially me.”

My grin grows as he holds me tight against him. The solace I didn’t expect to need.

“And who may this be?” My mother tries to put on a fake and polite smile, but it makes her look like a drunken middle-aged woman at a retirement party. She takes in his features—features meaning his tattoos visible from his rolled sleeves, and I swear he stands up straighter. She won’t judge out loud, but I can see the wheels turning. I’ve never been with a guy covered in ink and part of a biker club. But I’m not with him, so it shouldn’t matter.

“Mom, this is Throttle. He’s a good friend.” My insides ache.

Throttle withdraws his arm from me, displaying signs of nervousness and for the first time, he was twitchy. When he says “hi” to her, his eyes flash with worry. “It’s nice to meet you. Tequila mentions you often. Mostly of how much she adores you.” He used the word adore.

“Tequila?” Her brows furrow in confusion, glancing a questionable look my way.

“It’s a nickname.” I laugh.

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