Page 70 of Stone

“It happened because of me,” he argued back. “You lost your shit at Dad because I didn’t explain myself properly.”

I crossed my arms across my chest and flung myself back in the passenger seat.

I’d lost my shit with Bandit because John’s letter blindsided me and blamed his change of plans on his dad. However, we’d already argued over it, and it was his first day home. It didn’t seem fair to get into it with him.

John turned to study me, his lips twitching, and muttered, “See? Sass.”

My eyes rolled upward.

I’d suggested stopping off on the way home, grabbing a pizza, and renting a motel room for a couple of hours. Mr. Protective John Stone told me in no uncertain terms that there’d be none of that. His first port of call was the clubhouse so he could ‘see to his shit.’

‘His shit’ turned out to be ‘my shit,’ which got me madder than a March Hare because ‘his shit’ interfered with me getting to know my ol’ man again. John had introduced me to sex and made it so good that all I could think about was jumping his bones.

It had been a long time.

But no. John had to ‘see to his shit,’ so screw my needy vagina, or in this case—not.

“Buckle up. We’re here,” Stone said, turning the corner and driving Bessie onto the main road that led to the farm.

I knew he didn’t mean my seat belt.

By then, it was four p.m., and the light was dimming. The nights were drawing in, and the sky was made duller by the hint of snow in the air and the distinct icy chill that made your bones rattle. Going by the clubhouse, though, it may as well have been a hot July evening because groups of men and women stood around a raging bonfire, which lit up the winter sky like a beacon, leading John home.

I sensed his entire body slumping as if he’d been holding his breath for all the months he’d been gone and coming home finally allowed him to breathe easy. I could’ve cried for John because I knew how much he missed Connie, probably more so than his dad. It didn’t help that our relationship had also taken a hit this time, and he had to smooth things over between me and the club during his visit.

My throat went dry as a thread of guilt wrapped around my windpipe and squeezed. I hated John had to deal with my crapwhen he should’ve been making the most of the time he had with his family. But he’d started the chain of events that led us here, and it was good he wanted to smooth things over.

John slowed, turning into the opening and heading past the bonfire. He raised his hand in greeting as he drove by the brothers. Parking at the front of the farmhouse, he turned off the engine and then angled his face toward me. “Stay there; I’ll come around for you.”

I watched him jump out and jog around the hood, then he pulled open my door and held his hand out for me.

Filling my lungs to calm my racing heart, I took his hand, smiling nervously as he helped me down and slid his arm across my shoulder before we walked toward the crowd of people waiting.

Bandit walked toward us, and my heart thudded because he didn’t spare me a glance. His stare was glued to his son, taking in all the changes I’d already had time to process.

We slowed to a stop as we approached Bandit. I shivered at the ominous silence hanging in the air as the two men eyed each other warily.

“You went away a boy and came back a man,” Bandit bit out.

“No shit,” John drawled.

His dad’s eyes narrowed. “Mind your lip, boy. I can still put you down.”

“Maybe.” John shrugged. “But you’d have a hell of a fight on your hands now.”

Bandit’s eyes flicked to me and then back to John. “Is she worth it?”

“Is Mom? Is Iris? Are any of those asshole’s ol’ ladies?” John bandied back. “She’s not worthit.She’s wortheverythin’.”

A wide grin spread across Bandit’s face. “Fair enough. You’ve convinced me,” he stepped aside to reveal a wall of brothers, “now you’ve just gotta convince them.”

I watched, fascinated, as John’s face turned to granite. His eyes flicked over the crowd of people, and suddenly, it hit me.

It could’ve been Bandit standing there.

John’s voice rang out loud, clear, and clipped with anger, “Where’s Seth?”

Feet shuffled, whispers and grunts filled the air, and the crowd parted to reveal the man himself, standing tall and somewhat cocky.

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