Page 22 of A New Era

“Feels like deja-vu,” she quips.

This time I don't take a seat. I don’t want this to turn into a conversation, this is simply me telling them what to expect when they’re around the club and Holly and their granddaughter.

“Last night Rayna questioned Holly about being her mom. Holly came and got me right away and I had a talk with her and with Rayna.”

“And why does that bring you here?” Slade asks.

“Because like when I first came to you about my relationship with Holly, I wanted to show the same respect and let you know that Rayna wished to call Holly's mom and I let her know that she could if that was what she wanted. I explained she has two mommies. India will never be pushed out.”

Slade pulls out a chair and takes a seat, Kristen lowers her eyes and turns her back to me.

“I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. Holly is every bit a mother to her,” Slade says.

His reaction is what I expected. I wait for Kristen to say her piece. She’s the one I’m really here for.

“If I’m honest, it cuts me. I'll never hear Rayna call my India mommy but if she was the one to bring this up, she must need it.”

“That’s what I thought too. I can’t promise you enough that India won’t be pushed out of her life but when Holly and I have children, I don’t want Rayna feeling any way about it other than included.”

“I don’t want that either. I suppose it was always going to come to this,” Kristen says.

“For a while, I didn’t believe so but I wouldn’t be marryin’ Holly if she couldn’t be the mother my daughter needs.”

I wish I could see her face, to see if the words from her mouth were as truthful as in her eyes.

To lighten the room, I say, “I doubt there’ll be any more shocks to come.”

Kristen scoffs. “Let’s hope not.” She finally turns and adds, “Thank you for coming to us, but in the future you don’t need to make these trips to let us know things. We’re family and that won’t ever change, but it is time we all move forward. You, Holly, and Rayna are a family, and Slade and I are here when Rayna needs us.”

I step out of the McCarthy’s house able to breathe and light that damn cigarette. Happiness is a heavy fucking burden. But at the end of the day, as long as Holly is comfortable and happy and my girl is happy, that makes me happy. And since I didn’t think I would be ever again, I’ll take it while I can.

“You got any more business in town while we’re here?” Shane asks as I keep my cigarette between my lips and mount my bike.

“No, we’ll head back to the club.”

Bringing my bike to life, I take one last pull on my cigarette and flick the butt across the street before riding away from the McCarthy’s.

With the Rayna situation dealt with, I ride for home with the next situation to be dealt with that’s weighing on my mind. Effie Rathbone. My gut is telling me accepting her offer isn’t the direction the club needs to go, but it’s also tearing it in two because declining it isn’t in our best interest either. One day her offers are going to stop, and we’ll be dragged farther into the Rathbone/Hayward war.

Police sirens disturb my train of thought and the sheriff’s cruiser speeds up in my rearview mirror.

I’ve been president for over a year, and I’ve not had the displeasure of meeting her. I pull over and Shane follows suit.

“Keep your mouth shut and don’t do anything to warrant her putting you in cuffs.”

He nods. “Sure.”

I don’t give her the pleasure of watching her approach or arguing about why she’s stopped us. She’ll get to it in her own time.

“Leo Jackson. I must say you have the look of your father, but do you run the club like him?”

Keeping my mouth shut, she carries the conversation for the both of us. “I admit the town’s been quiet of late, but I doubt it will last for much longer.”

“Since I’d rather swallow razor blades than talk to you, get to why you pulled me over. I’ve got shit to do.”

Her smug grin turns sour. “You forget I can make any charge stick to you, your brothers, anyone I see fit. If I wished, I could have you back in Bolton Corrections whether you deserve to be there or not.”

It becomes difficult to keep my mouth shut, and in fact, I don’t. My father told me to set out what kind of president I’d be and it’s time the sheriff finds out.

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