Page 15 of Ringer's Freedom

Sasha and I weren’t able to go thrifting on Friday, so if she’s still around with my dad, I’ll drag her with me today.

Sunday is the only day of the week I don’t work at the bakery, same as every other business the club owns. A long time ago, when my grandfather was the president of the Outlaws, he decided that the Lord’s day was strictly a family day. Unless it was completely unavoidable, any and all club business was to be put on hold for the entire twenty four hours.

When I set to open the bakery, being closed on Sunday was the only stipulation my dad and Ghost had with funding me the extra money to purchase equipment.

Part of me was extremely pissed because I knew Sundays would be a huge day of sales for a bakery. On the other hand, I knew growing up that Sunday was my favorite day of the week because I always had my dad and my pop all to myself.

I never had a lot of friends growing up. I was an only child, and both of my parents were also only children, so cousins were out. All of the other club kids were either older than me or a lot younger. It made for a lonely childhood. I was the weird girl with biker parents, and it didn’t help that I dressed the part in Dad's old shirts and ratty jeans.

When I was in seventh grade, a new girl moved to town. We became instant friends the moment she walked in wearing an Aerosmith t-shirt. She sat right next to me and introduced herself as Sparrow. We became inseparable for the four years she lived in Arizona. Her dad worked for a company that had them moving every few years, so her time here always had an expiration date.

She moved a few months before Ringer got arrested, so it’s safe to say that my junior year of high school was the worst year of my life. I lost three of my best friends all in one year. Sparrow moved away, Ringer was sent to prison, and my nana passed away.

Luckily, Sparrow and I were still able to keep in touch over the phone, but the other two I lost completely.

To this day, I talk to Sparrow almost everyday, whether it’s a phone call, FaceTime, or just a simple text. We are soul best friends, soulmates, and no amount of distance can change that.

The cold stream of water splashing my skin brings me back into the present. Shutting the water off with my goose fleshed arm, I reach for the fluffy towel with the other. I dry off quickly, and pad into my closet.

An entire wall of clothing racks takes up one side of the room, and the other is lined with shelves of supplies. A table sits in the center with Nana's sewing machine perched proudly on it.

I grab the pair of shorts on the top of the pile and the first tank I see. Slipping a bandeau bra over my head, I quickly throw on the rest of the outfit, completing the look with one of my favorite tops. This particular shirt I stole from my dad already had the sleeves cut off, so I had to make do with the fact that the arm holes show almost everything. I’m not sure everyone in town would appreciate a peep show, so I wear the bandeau bra as a courtesy.

I slip on my yellow and white checkerboard Vans and grab my purse before locking the door behind me. Stomping down the stairs, I make excessive noise while unlocking the side door into the kitchen. I really don’t feel like getting a glimpse of my dad nailing Sasha this early in the morning on the table where I eat my meals.

Cautiously, I open the door and see Dad and Sasha sitting at the small breakfast nook, coffee mugs in hand. Sasha has that thoroughly fucked look about her that you just can’t hide, even though she’s doing her best not to make eye contact with me. Dad is shirtless and wearing the same jeans from last night. He looks like he’s been up for hours, while Sasha looks like she just rolled out of bed.

“Mornin’, baby girl,” Dad says, forcing a smile as he blows the steam rising off of his coffee.

My gaze volleys back and forth between the two, and finally lands on Sasha. When she looks up at me, I toss her a wink and thumbs up.

“Morning love birds,” I reply, making my way over to the steaming coffee pot.

After filling my cup and adding two scoops of sugar, I hop up on the counter and face them.

“So, how was y’all’s night?” I ask, trying to break up the awkwardness I feel swimming in the air.

Knowing how shy and quiet Sasha can be, I look at my dad and watch as he winces before breaking out into a shit eating grin. “It was just fine.”

After a few silent, awkward moments, Dad pushes back from the table and makes his way over to me. Although I’m still sitting on the counter, he pulls me into a hug. When he pulls away, he leaves his forehead resting against mine. “I know how you feel about him, baby girl.”

“Dad...” I interrupt him.

“Lilah, I’m your dad, and I’m not stupid. You don’t think I watched the way you looked at him when you were a kid? I’m not blind.”

“Daddy, that was eight years ago. I’m 23 now, not 15.”

“You also haven’t seen him since you were 15. I saw his face light up last night when he saw you for the first time. Lilah, feelings don’t just vanish because you haven’t seen someone in a few years.”

“Your dad's right, Lile,” Sasha adds quietly from her seat at the breakfast table.

“I’m going to stop this conversation right now. Not because I think you’re wrong, but because he just doesn’t think about me like that. The look you think you saw him giving me was probably just an initial reaction of surprise. Then he actually realized who I was. It’s fine, you guys. I’m fine.” I hop off the counter.

Dumping the last few drops from my mug into the sink, I turn towards Sasha.

“I’m going thrifting today if you want to join. I know we didn’t get a chance Friday, but if you’d like to come, I’m out of here.”

Sasha looks towards my dad, and when he gives her a curt nod, she turns and smiles at me. “Let’s go.”

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