Page 15 of Selah's Wish

“Hell, yeah,” Butcher whoops. “Please tell me you’re calling in Marcum and Xavier LeBlanc.”

I've heard stories about these brothers. They're nomads who aren’t known for using their common sense. RiffRaff may havefun touring with them as they shed light on the dirty dealings of a certain lowlife residing there, but I’m not sure Cedar Creek can withstand the fallout of their visit.

“Good call,” Wrecker conveys, nodding his head in approval.

“Wait!” Brick shouts. “Aren’t these the two you warned us about not too long ago? I’m not sure they are the best men for this job.”

“This is the only way I can guarantee that nothing will happen to your dad,” Dragon proposes. “They're a little off hinge, but nobody is as protective as they are when it comes to family and friends. And I have a feeling if anyone can stand up to them and have them toe the line, it'd be RiffRaff.”

“Or he’ll join them and we’ll be bailing all three out of jail,” Butcher helpfully adds.

“Not helping,” Dragon hisses as he nails my old man with a ‘shut the fuck up’ look.

“Look at Brick,” Butcher chuckles. “He looks like he’s having a Jesus take the wheel moment.”

“Naw, that’s his I’m about to shit a brick look,” I tack on. Brick looks at me with a slack jaw, shaking his head. I could’ve sworn I heard a “fucking women” escape his lips before he raps his knuckles on the table and stands, walking out of the room.

“I guess he needs a minute,” RiffRaff guffaws. “If things don’t go his way, he puts himself in timeout.”

“Life around here is going to be fun,” Dragon huffs. “Nobody goes anywhere or makes any moves without my say-so. Got it?”

Everyone left in the room nods their heads as he follows Brick out of the room.

“Good job, baby,” Butcher says, kissing me on the temple. “Let’s go home and spend some time with the kids.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea to me,” I agree. Together, we walk out of the room. I have my laptop nestled in one of my arms and on the opposite side, my fingers are laced between his. This love, this companionship is what I dreamed would come to fruition, and I’m beyond joyful that it has.

My reality is better than any dream I ever had for myself.

This lifestyle we lead may not be for everyone, it’s a hard and brutal world, but it, along with the man at my side, saved me.

TWELVE

Butcher

Plans are still being hashedout in regard to my sister’s rescue mission. There’s still a lot we need answers to before we go in with guns blazing. Not all documentation has been accounted for, and that’s what’s holding us up when it comes to letting RiffRaff ride in. We won’t let him go into that situation blind.

In the meantime, Christmas is in the air. Everywhere I turn, holiday music is being blasted through the surround sound. The outside pavilion isn't safe from the tunes either. Even when I put my air pods in my ears and try to listen to some of my favorite rock music, it's drowned out by all of the holiday cheer.

It's not that I'm opposed to celebrating this time of year, it's that every now and then, a guy needs a break. Old ladies from both charters got together and put a big ass fucking Christmas tree in the middle of the communal yard. No matter where I go, somehow, tinsel gets stuck in my hair and snowflakes settle on my eyelashes—both the fake and authentic shit.

Can't even relax in my own home without hearing Christmas carols being sung by the kids. I'm beginning to understand the mindset of the Grinch when he stole Christmas. I don't mean to be humbug about the whole thing, but it's getting to the point where it's ridiculous. My woman though, she gets me. She walks up to me with two helmets clutched in her hands. My eyes roam up and down her as I release a whistle. She’s wearing leather pants and jacket that both fit her like a second layer of skin.

“Hot damn,” I sing, adjusting myself in my jeans.

“Feel like a ride, biker man?” she asks in a sultry voice, strolling up to where I’m sitting, trying to catch my breath. Thank fuck the roads have been cleared by the sand trucks because feeling the wind in my face as I wind through the mountains sounds like a good way to unwind.

“What kind of ride were you thinking, Darlin’?” I ask, steadily drinking her in. She’s a man’s wet dream in that getup.

“The kind where we let the wind lead us,” she purrs. “And if we take a break along the way, we’ll find a way to fill the time until we get back on the bike and head home.”

“Home,” I repeat, letting the word resonate. Home isn’t a structure or piece of land, it’s wherever she and the kids are. That’s something I sometimes forget when I’m lost in my head, but anytime that occurs, she’s there to remind me.

“Come on, baby. I’m ready to feel your steel horse revving between my legs.” Her innuendo has a certain part of my anatomy perking up and taking interest.

“You love it when I rev my engine,” I joke, reaching up and yanking her into my lap.

“I do,” she giggles. “It’s the highlight of my life.” She winds her arms around my neck and begins combing her fingers through my hair. “Let’s get away for a little bit and leave life in our rearview mirror.”

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