Page 50 of Can't Get Over You
“The only reason they didn’t call the police is because they were caught before a crime was committed,” Wyatt said.
“I didn’t know about that, but the Marco I knew was a good friend. He was there for me. And now that he’s gone, I owe it to him to take care of his son.”
“There for you how?” Wyatt asked quietly.
He supposed if they were decent enough to take off work to meet with him, he owed them honesty. “I didn’t really talk about it, but I didn’t do well when we first moved here. There was a lot of bad shit in the club?—”
“We know,” Wyatt said. “Because you were the one who protected us from it.”
Jude nodded. “But I got roughed up one day.” While he wouldn’t go into detail, he could tell from his dad’s pinched expression that he remembered when his six-year-old son had a split lip and black eye. “And I took off. Got lost in the woods, and Marco found me.” As he tugged on his beard, he looked into the sober expressions of three of the McKenna men. “In the middleof the damn Tetons, that kid found me. I was alone. It was dark, and I was scared shitless. And when I saw that flashlight in the woods, I broke out crying. I know it didn’t seem like it, but he was a good friend. And for a lot of years, he was my only friend.”
“I didn’t know about that.” Boone looked concerned.
“I didn’t say anything.” He figured he ought to get to the point. “But I’m pretty sure if I don’t step up, Cody’s going to turn out the same way I did.”
“What’re you talking about?” his dad asked.
Well, hell. He didn’t want his dad to feel bad. None of it was his fault. He’d done his best to provide for his kids in an impossible situation. “When we got here, I had to wear whatever the club gave me, so at school, they tagged me as a biker kid. When anything went wrong—if a kid got hurt on the playground or someone’s Tamagotchi got stolen—the finger was pointed at me.” He remembered when Gwynn Morrison came in after recess with bloody hands and her ponytail askew. The teacher looked right at Jude and accused him of pushing her down.
“I got a lot of calls from the school,” his dad said. “You saying you didn’t do all that?”
“No, I did some of it. I was a jerk, I’m not saying otherwise. But I’m not sure I had a chance to be anything else since I got blamed for things anyway. And Cody’s walking the same path. Last night before bed, I told him we needed to get him new clothes for school, and he got this panicked look. He started to argue with me about it, and I figured the do-rag, boots, and vest were all he had left from his dad. So I have to let him wear them, but at the same time, it’s going to get him in trouble in school. Parents aren’t going to want their kids to play with him.”
He didn’t like the concerned look in his brothers’ eyes, so he drank his coffee, forgetting that Wyatt had spiked it. Warmth sped through his bloodstream.
“Well, whatever happens, just know we’re here for you,” Wyatt said. “You’re not in this alone.”
“I appreciate it.” He’d always been closest to Wyatt. Certainly because of the two-year age gap, but also because he’d had to protect him in the club. “And I’m going to need the help. The last anybody heard of me was when Judge Adams kicked me out of town. He called me a loser.”
“He didn’t call you a loser,” his dad said.
“He looked right at me when he said it. Trust me, I heard.” Maybe it was the booze, but he felt compelled to let the deeper truth out. “I just don’t want my reputation to impact him.” Because associating with the guy who’d raised hell in this town for half his life might be a lot worse for Cody than wearing a vest.
“I don’t know why you say that,” Boone said. “You didn’t steal cars. You didn’t hurt people. The worst thing you did was put a snake in someone’s mailbox.”
“When dad was out hustling for work, you’re the one who took care of us,” Wyatt said. “When shit happened to me, you’re the one who stepped in. You’re a good man.”
“And we’ll stand with you in a courtroom,” his dad said.
“That’s good.” Jude doubted a judge would care what his family had to say. “Because Carlo thinks we’ll get a hearing Monday morning for temporary guardianship.”
“We’ll be there.” Wyatt stepped closer and pulled him into his arms. His big, burly lumberjack of a brother gave him a bear hug. “The right man for the job isn’t someone who checks off a list of qualities on a piece of paper.” He pulled away. “It’s a man who steps up for a kid who needs a father.”
“Dude, you’re wasting your time with animals,” Boone said to Wyatt. “You should make inspirational posters. That kitten hanging off a rope? ‘Hang in there.’”
“‘Don’t follow your dreams,’” his dad said. “‘Chase them.’”
“Fuck off.” But Jude was laughing, too. “I have to go check on Finlay. She’s done enough childcare.”
As he climbed the stairs, he felt lighter. He didn’t know how things would turn out, but it helped to know his family was there with him.
At the landing, he checked the cameras. No one was in the kitchen, so he pulled open the door and—just to be sure—grabbed a box of crackers on his way out of the pantry.
After setting his mug and the box on the counter, he crossed the living room. Sunlight glinted off metal, and he saw a white BMW parked out front.
Finlay’s ride.
Shit.
