Page 28 of Striker's Foul
“Honestly…” I shake my head as I think about it. “I believed the lies Harold and the sheriff at the time told me. That, and I thought I wasn’t good enough for her. Your mama was raised ina good home with two parents, clean floors, and plenty of food in the kitchen. I wasn’t raised like that. I worked to pay our rent and put a bit of food on the table as soon as I was able. My old man went to prison for beating my mother. My mom, on the other hand, was a drunk who didn’t care about herself or me.”
“That sucks. My mom’s always been there for me. She never misses a game. And if she thought I needed something, she’d go without. She’s the best.”
“Kid, your mom is the best. She didn’t judge me for having holes in my jeans. She came to every one of my games too when we were together, even though her father told her not to. Your grandma was a sweet lady.”
“Do you think it’s true what the other woman said, about murdering her?”
I think about it for a moment and realize just how wrong we’ve all been.
“Yeah. I think she was murdered. Your grandma didn’t care how much pain she was in. She always made sure she was there for your mama.”
“I wish I could have known her. Papa used to say she was the light in every room. He said that about Mom too.”
“She was, and your mom is too.”
“I’m going to head to bed. I want to go to school tomorrow.”
“Night, kiddo.”
He comes over and kisses Amelia’s cheek.
“I’m glad she didn’t let that woman take me. But if she stares down another person with a gun, I’ll let you spank her.”
I nearly choke. That was something one of my brothers said, that I needed to spank her. I don’t think my son realizes what he just said.
CHAPTER 8
AMELIA
It’s been over two weeks since we were attacked. A week too long of just sleeping next to Striker, nothing more. A week too long of only kisses and cuddles. I’m done waiting. Tonight, I’ve decided that changes.
We moved into Luke’s house over the weekend. It’s a four-bedroom Craftsman with a large game room over the garage. At first, I didn’t want to leave the roadhouse, but now I like that when I close up for the night, I can truly relax. I don’t have to worry if I forgot something. The cleaning service can come in right away, no more waiting until three or four in the morning to make sure I’m asleep enough they won’t disturb me.
Luke and I have our own space in the house, and it’s exactly the kind of place I dreamed about when we were teenagers. There’s no white picket fence, but I could have horse paddocks, and we’re far enough from town to feel at peace. Still, part of me worries it’s only temporary, so I don’t make any decisions about decorating or anything major about the house. I know in my heart we are together forever now, but I still worry.
My personal security is still highly ramped up with protection from both the MC and Julian’s men. I wave at them as I climb into the brand-new SUV Luke insisted I have. Aftergrowing up in poverty, Luke now has money he can spend on what he wants. He invested his earnings well and lived with minimal expenses for years. Now he’s set for life, he says. I’m not too worried about finances either. With my papa’s life insurance, Jude and I can live comfortably too.
The sheriff hasn’t been able to prove Harold tried to hurt us, and the woman who claimed she killed my mother isn’t talking anymore. I told Luke we’re just going to get on with our lives and forget about them.
Since I released the statement with Blythe’s help, there haven’t been any more questionable news stories about us. Part of me feels like it’s the calm before the storm. I had to cancel my tattoo appointment in case I’m pregnant. I haven’t taken a test yet, but I don’t feel like I am. Then again, it’s been so many years since I last was, I could be seriously wrong.
Jude and Luke are at the house, hanging out in the garage, working on Luke’s bike that was damaged in the shootout. Luke also talked me into letting Jude help him build a new bike, one that will be Jude’s when he turns sixteen.
I pull into the long driveway and see the lights are on in the den, meaning Luke is still up working. He and Browser won’t give up on finding proof against Harold. I circle around the side of the house to the garages and pull into the first bay. That one’s mine, according to Luke.
My arm is healing, and I haven’t had a headache in a couple of days. I slip off my cowboy boots and leave them by the door. I don’t want to track in dirt or sticky roadhouse mess. As I walk through the kitchen and family room, I spot Luke working on the computer. He’s wearing a pair of glasses that make him look so studious and sexy. His long hair is down, and he’s in a pair of basketball shorts with no shirt, which tells me he showered after working in the garage.
“Hey, babe.” I lean against the doorframe and peek at him. It’s hard to act sexy, so I just go for being myself.
“Hello, angel. How was your night?” He slips off those sexy glasses, and I straighten up, turning to give him my backside.
“It was good. Want to see my new jammies?”
His computer pings, and he turns back to it. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit.”
“They’re very tiny,” I say over my shoulder as I walk away, leaving him to think about that.
I race up the main staircase to change into my pajama set before he figures it out. I rush into Luke’s room. It has a large king-size bed, two basic nightstands, and not much else. He keeps telling me to pick out some decor or furnishings, but I remind him it’s his house.
