Page 89 of Busted Dreams

Beck in the zone as he played his guitar. Jonah deep in thought as he wrote in my old window seat. Rhys with hope in his eyes as he polished his hockey stick. Trinity holding her chemistry book to her chest while laughing at someone beside her. He’d even painted himself with a paintbrush behind his ear while lying on the grass and staring at a blue cloudless sky. Then there was me, my pensive face half obscured by my camera. Not dissimilar to the painting he’d done for me at school, as if he protected me from the attention I hated, even here.

The one thing we had in common was that we were all happy. Only Trinity was smiling, but there was a vibe around each of us that said life was good. Great even.

“Graves asked me to paint murals on the walls of the compound. For decades, this place meant drugs and fighting and even hopelessness for some, even while the club was salvation for others. But the last few years, they’ve worked so hard to turn this club around. They donate, volunteer, help those the club wronged. Together, they’ve built this dream, and it’s flourishing.” He briefly flicked his gaze to Jonah and Beck.

“They asked me to add their portraits as the founders of this era in the club, to signify to anyone entering the compound that anything is possible. And if or when anything threatens this compound, their faces are a reminder there is someone here to fight for what they believe in. For their own slice of happiness, you could say.” He grinned down at me, then Trinity.

She wiped her eyes quickly as she took in everything her brother had done.

“I heard what you said that night in the hospital, Trinity,” Thatcher lowered his voice so only Trinity and I could hear. “I don’t know what Dad did to hurt you so badly, and I hope one day you’ll tell me, but I wanted to do this for you. For all of us. There is no such thing as busted dreams. We are the owner of our lives, and no matter what obstacles are thrown in our paths, we have the power to push past them. Even when one door shuts for good, dreams are fluid, ever changing. And we aren’t alone. You aren’t alone, Trinity. I’ll always be there to help you.”

I laughed, and once again, I had tears streaming down my face. Only, they were happy tears now.

Then a little louder, “This part of the mural is temporary. It will only be here until the news and reporters leave. One, because this is a message I wanted the world to see, even if they don’t quite understand the meaning. And two, once this comes down, the last part of their mural will be visible.”

“And what’s that?” Beck asked as he stepped closer to his part of the canvas.

A knowing smirk lit his features. “I’m sure you’ll see it someday. Anyway, this canvas can be cut into different sections. When it comes down, I want each of you to have your own painting. My gift to you all for being there when I needed you most.”

A quiet sniffle escaped Trinity as she turned away from Thatcher, breaking his hold. She took a few steps toward the sparse woods with stiff shoulders. As much as this was for us, I thought Trinity needed it more. I gave Thatcher a kiss on the cheek and let him have a few private minutes with his sister. Walking over to the guys, I gave them each hugs, sharing in the emotion Thatcher’s work evoked in all of us.

“He’s really talented,” Jonah said, a hint of awe in his voice.

“We all are.”

“He’s going to be just fine without the semester abroad.” Beck tugged on a lock of my hair.

“We all are.” I smiled.

“A little obstacle didn’t stop him at all,” Rhys grinned, knowing already what I would say.

“Just like it won’t stop us.”

The rest of the evening was spent with the Devil’s Hands, and this time, there were no scenes, no drama, just a damn good time among friends and family.

“Beck, can I speak to you a minute?” Brady’s nasally voice had started to grate on my nerves so bad, every time I heard it, I wanted to throw a wrench at his head.

“Sure.” I dropped said wrench to my chest and used the undercarriage to push my roller seat out from under the car.

Wiping my hands on a discarded rag, I sat up and waited for whatever bullshit he wanted to spew. He’d backed off for a while after he learned of my family, but it lasted until that next Monday. Then his demands were right back in irrational territory. If I had a follower for every time he threatened to take my home, I’d have gone viral just from that.

“So, listen. You don’t have to worry about losing your place, and weekend work is off the table completely. Is that cool with you?” His hand shook as he adjusted his glasses.

“Why would that not be cool with me?” And where was this coming from?

“Okay, good. Good. Will you let Graves know you’re happy?”

Ah, fuck. Now it all made sense.

“Stop grinning, it’s scaring me a little bit.” Brady backed up a few steps, smacking into a cart.

“I’ll let Graves know. Now, I should really finish this before I leave today.” I jerked my thumb toward old man Richards’ car that was still in the shop.

“Sure, sure.”

Most people would probably be upset when their family overstepped, but I was over the moon. They’d turned one of the biggest pains in my ass into a blubbering idiot. How could I be upset?

After the car was done, I cleaned up my area, and left Tippy’s behind.

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