Page 24 of It Should Have Been You

What does that mean?

An older man steps forward and reaches out his hand to me. Wrinkles set deeper as his mouth widens. There are only flecks of black left in his grey hair, an impressive physique hidden under a white T-shirt and leather vest. “Please excuse my nephew’s rudeness, darlin’. I’m Skip.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Ace is the next to shake my hand, a wicked smile plastered on his lips before he runs his fingers through messy blonde hair.

Very Sons of Anarchy.

Very mouth-watering.

People continue to introduce themselves, others don’t. Some look at me with what I think is curiosity. Maybe it’s suspicion.

Logan ends whatever conversation he’s having with a dip of his chin and takes my hand again. “I need to get inside. And for fuck’s sake, when she comes around taking photos, leave her alone. Maybe some of you might even smile.”

“Now why wouldn’t we smile for a beautiful lady?” Another wink from Ace.

Another growl from Logan.

There's too much testosterone here. So, when he pulls me through the crowd and into the shop, I follow.

With so many people inside, it looks different. A buzz vibrates in the air.

All eyes fall to Logan again. He has that effect on people.

It’s a big shop. We should blend in with the crowd, but people notice when he enters.

Briefly, I catch sight of the poster on the wall. I saw a similar one outside, but I couldn’t get a proper look when I was caged in by cavemen.

“A Heart for Evie.”

The face of a little girl—I’m assuming is Evie—is beneath the words, her dark hair falling in loose curls around her shoulders. She’s only a toddler. Her eyes are as blue as the dress she’s wearing, but my heart breaks when I notice the oxygen tube in her nose.

I look at Logan and back at the picture.

They have to be related.

Does he have kids?

“You okay?” he asks.

I don’t realize I’ve stopped walking until Logan speaks. My fingers are cramping from how hard I’m squeezing his hand.

His eyes follow what I’m looking at. He smiles, but it’s too sad. “My niece, Evie,” he explains. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She is. What happened to her?”

“She was born with a rare heart condition. It was diagnosed right after her birth. Doctors said she probably wouldn’t survive the first surgery, but she proved them wrong and survived many since.”

Pride shines in his eyes.

I’m almost afraid to ask. “Is there a cure?”

“No.” His pride quickly fades into something resembling fear. “But everyone is here today for her. I think it gives Archer and Molly hope, and we focus on that. We focus on the hope.”

I can only imagine if it were my child, I would cling onto hope wherever I could find it.

I clear the emotion clogging my throat, then ask, “And what is today exactly?

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