Page 63 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

My missing leg will never heal, I still use a crutch from time to time. Saffie, though, she can mend and not need to be propped up anymore. While I would have stood beside her, there was too much between us that was wrong. And for her, already trying to deal with her grief, the differences were insurmountable.

On the other hand, leaving her alone might not make her miss me, it may only make her more determined to cut me out of her life. As time goes on, it’s this latter premise I settle on, and I start to have no expectation I’ll be hearing from her when the month is up.

I miss her more than I expected. My life which seemed so perfect before isn’t anymore. My brothers who once were my everything, can’t completely fill the hole that she left. But it’s all I have, because, if as I suspect, the weeks will pass with no contact from her, I’ll know her decision without having to ask her.I’ll have no place in her life.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow. She’d come to mean more to me than I’d anticipated.

I could wallow in misery, or, in preparation for the worst, throw myself back into the world that stops me from being a part of hers.

To that end, and no longer with a reason to be distracted, I look to deal with my other problem, Cyn.

After the stunt she pulled with Kid, I placed a call home. It wasn’t fair on my brothers for her to stay longer.

Instead of Mom, I got Grover. It was, to say the least, a strange phone call.

“It’s Niran. Mom there?”

“I’d like to talk to you myself, Niran.” There’s the sound of footsteps as though he’s moving to another room. My suspicion is confirmed when I hear a door firmly being closed. “How are you doing? You still with the club?”

Pulling my phone away from my ear, I stare at it in consternation. Not knowing how else to respond, I say simply, “Yeah.”

He chuckles. “I’ve known all along, Niran. For your mother’s sake, I’ve kept eyes on you. I kind of know why you hid it from us, and your mom still doesn’t have a clue. But, Niran, I’m ex-Army. One or two of my cohorts did the same as you—joined clubs when they got back.”

You could have knocked me down with a fucking feather. “And you still sent Cyn to me, knowing my life?”

“Could have done worse.” He sounds unrepentant. “You know Peg? He’s in Tucson.” I’ve heard of the man, and I tell him so. “Yeah, well, one of my friends who stayed in longer, he was in the same unit as Ron Rinter as he was known then. Was impressed as fuck with the man and kept up with him. He’s assured me the Satan’s Devils are an okay club.”

So blown away that he knows, and that he has no issue with it, it takes me a moment to remember the reason why I called. “Cyn’s stirring up trouble, Grover. She needs to go home.”

Another laugh, but this time there’s no mirth in it. “Rather she didn’t do that. Her, your mother, well, just let’s say, her mother and I don’t see eye to eye on some things.”

“Like what?” I tense at the suggestion there are issues in their marriage.

“Like whether Cyn should get back with Hester again.”

What the fuck? “You want her to go back to that abusive fucker?”

“No, no,” he refutes fast. “But your mom’s not quite of the same opinion.”

“Why the fuck would she even consider that?”

There’s quiet for a moment, then, “It’s complicated, Son.”

Once again, I move the phone from my ear and shake my head in confusion. It’s the first time in my life and far too late he’s indicated any relationship other than duty between us. I get suspicious why he’s now claiming it.

“Complicated is what’s at my end,” I rasp at him when I next speak.

“Please, Niran. Keep her with you a while longer. Until I can make sure Hester’s staying away.”

Flabbergasted by several elements of the call, still not understanding why in his view, Cyn’s in the best place, after a few more unsatisfactory exchanges, I find myself reluctantly agreeing.

Seeing as I’m stuck with her for the present, I determine to make the best of it. To that end, I’ve worked hard at cultivating a better relationship with Cyn. I’ve given her my time, both in the evenings and during the days at weekends. She’s never come to my room again, nor made any more accusations against any of my brothers or prospects.

I’ve taken her to the world-famous zoo in San Diego, spent a day with her at SeaWorld, driven across the Coronado Bridge, and had actually enjoyed being a tourist for a while as together we explored the Old Town and sought out new restaurants to try. I find out much about her, though not anything of importance. She likes creatures with fur, not so much those with scales and has a particular dislike for snakes. She loves ice cream and stuffing her face with junk food like hotdogs and burgers. She gasped when the view we had from Coronado showed the planes picking their way through the skyscrapers, and she giggled like an excited child when we watched the seals lazily basking on the beach at La Jolla. To my surprise, seeing old sights through her fresh eyes, our outings didn’t prove too much of a chore, even if I kept wishing it were another woman by my side.

The only blight in the new relationship between us is that the one thing I haven’t done is have her ride on my bike. Even when the club had a beach barbeque, she’d gone in the truck with the club girls when I’d resorted to using the excuse that with a prosthetic leg, I was worried her extra weight might unbalance the bike. I don’t think she accepted it, but to her credit, she didn’t complain too much.

Have I developed a love for my sister? The stark truth I have to admit is that I have not. I’ve come to a begrudging acceptance of her, and while I acknowledge the blood relationship, she wouldn’t be my friend out of choice. Our views are often one hundred and eighty degrees apart. For instance, however much I try to talk to her, she still believes she was the victim when Grover chased her boyfriend off.

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