Page 25 of Jacob

The last bottle tossed in the trash, Sparrow threw away the stick from her lollipop with the disgusting gum and tugged the tray off the bar. Itwasromantic. The problem was the gesture wasn’t from the guy they assumed. Itshouldhave been. It’d be a hell of a lot easier it was from her damnboyfriend, butno. It had to be from someone else. How the fuck was she supposed to deal with that?

“Saudades.”Dixie nodded as her gaze fixated on Sparrow.

Fully intending to walk away from the pair and not participate in the conversation, she found her feet unable to move. The look in her mother’s gaze was one she hadn’t recalled seeing before. Her mother’s goofy grin, the light in her eyes.Was she proud? What the hell did she have to be proud about?

“What’s that?” Kimber asked.

“Something Ducky would say when he was out on runs,” Dixie said as she turned her focus to the arrangement. Her finger trailed along the outer rim of candy wrappers as she tilted her head to the side.“Saudades de você.”She deepened her voice and added an accent as though she were imitating his voice.

“What does it mean?” the bartender asked.

Her mom’s tongue swiped along her bottom lip and she lowered her eyes as though contemplating her next words. Her mother wasn’t this person. She always just said what was on her mind. She never thought beforehand.

When Dixie looked up, she bit her lips together and Sparrow didn’t expect the tears in her mother’s eyes. She sighed and smiled as her gaze flicked between the two women. “He tried to explain it once, but he said there wasn’t really an English translation. He said it was a Brazilian-Portuguese thing.” First, the right tear fell, dripping down her cheek to her chin with the left following quickly behind. Her mother swiped it away and sniffled.

In the years since her father had passed, her mother hadn’t openly grieved for him much. Sure, in the beginning—the first week or two—she was a blubbering mess, but it felt like she’d gotten over his death quickly. At that moment, seeing the tears, and hearing the emotion in her mother’s voice, she realized her mother hadn’t gotten over it. She mourned Ducky, just in her own—albeit very weird—way.

“He said it was a thousand times more than just saying ‘I miss you,’ that it was like a feeling of longing with a heavy heart being so far away from the one you love.” She pointed to the candy and eyed her daughter. “If he’s sending you that, baby bird, saudades de você.”

Like a freight train, emotions she hadn’t a clue how to handle barreled into Sparrow’s chest. Her father. Pipes. Jacob. A bouquet of goddamn lollipops. She both loved and hated both of them and all of it at that moment. She didn’t want or need to deal with that.

She couldn’t breathe.

The tangled web of confusing emotions lodged in her throat, choking her. She did her best to swallow it, to shove it down—to avoid it all.

Without a word, Sparrow stepped away from the bar, away from the bouquet, away from Kimber, and away from her mother.

“Where are you going?” Kimber shouted after her.

“Let her go. She’s probably going to call Pipes,” her mother dismissed.

Closing her eyes, Sparrow shook her head. The last thing she’d do is call Pipes. Though, she probably should. No doubt, someone would tell someone who would tell him. Bikers gossiped more than the women who hung around them.

What the hell would she say to him? Who would she say they were from? There wasn’t a way to explain that at all.You know that biker from out of town that’s been sniffing around? Yeah, I know him from way back. He gave me this. That would go over like a fart in fucking church.

Shoving the door to the bar open, she stepped out into the cool night air and inhaled a deep lungful of it. Letting the door shut behind her, she stepped out into the paved lot illuminated by sparsely placed floodlights.

She welcomed the quietness of the lot. She appreciated the empty wall. All the spots reserved for patched members were vacant. It didn’t mean the bar was free of bikers. It just meant there wasn’t a Roughneck Rider there. They were all at the clubhouse, which was fine with her. She needed a night off.

Running her fingers along the rough bricks, she walked along the building, trying to collect her thoughts.

She couldn’t officially remember if her father ever said those words to her, but now that she knew them, she could only hear them in her head, in his voice.

“Saudades de você.” On repeat in her mind.

While it was her father’s voice, it wasn’t his face she envisioned.

Sitting cross-legged on the picnic table side by side, listening to Godsmack playing on the main stage off in the distance, they shared a stolen beer.

“I think this one is Voodoo,” he guessed.

She strained to hear the music. They were far away, so hearing Sully Erna’s vocals was nearly impossible, but the very distinct drum beats were loud and clear. “I’ll agree.”

He lifted the beer to his lips and took a sip before offering her some.

Waving it off, she leaned against his shoulder and grinned. He’d gotten taller since last year and playing football meant that his arms were all hard and muscly. She fought the urge to squeeze his bicep.

“Hey, did I tell you?” he began.

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