Page 21 of Brave as It

On the small screen of my phone, there she was. Karma looks to me at the same instant it hits him, “Is that?” I nod.

Emmalee Van Etten.

Stocking the laundry supplies and wiping down machines.

What in the actual fuck is going on?

SEVEN

EMMALEE

Life lesson with Emma: When a road splits and you have to choose a path, don’t think just go.

My phone ringsand I grab it from my back pocket. I don’t use this phone often. Everyone here has my prepaid flip phone I keep going to call me for work or my room. The only people who call this number are Diem, my mother, and the people who are in charge of my life until they get whatever the hell it is they want from me. Having two phones is a pain in the ass I never realized I would have to deal with.

The caller ID says it’s him. My heart beats faster, my palms get sweaty, and my mind races. In the beginning he called frequently. I didn’t answer. I got to the point, I even called Diem from prepaid phones for a while trying to let him think I cancelled this number. Whatever number I would call Diem from, he called me back. I didn’t answer. Eventually, he quit calling, and I made peace with it. I also started video calling her from my laptop rather than a phone which cut back on him trying to reach me. Seeing his name, all these feelings well up inside me.

Wesson.

I don’t answer and send him to voicemail.

He rings again.

I can’t do this. Tears fill my eyes. I’m at work. I have things to do. He can’t be calling. We have nothing left to say. I keep this phone on me for Diem, my mother, and the strangers only. Wesson is none of those people. I can’t change things. There is nothing for either of us to say to each other.

I send it to voicemail.

He rings again.

I send it to voicemail. I’m not doing this. Plain and simple. If he calls again, I’ll turn it off. I have a life here, one that isn’t perfect, but it’s mine … sort of. These few decisions I’ve made are mine to own and I do. This is far from perfect, but I like where I’m at mostly.

The chime on the door gets my attention as I watch Stone walk in. He scans the space and there is a hard look on his face I’ve never seen before as he approaches me.

My phone still in my hand, it rings again. I look down and send it to voicemail. Before I can tuck it away in my back pocket it goes off again.

Fuck.

This can’t be happening right now. I have it good here, the Sinister Sons pay me in cash, they don’t ask questions about me and where I’m from and I don’t share. Stone is in my space when it goes off again. He looks to me, looks to the phone, and takes it before I can react.

“Hello,” his voice is firm. There is a pause while Wesson speaks. “Way I see it, she didn’t answer this shit the last two times you called, she doesn’t want to talk. That’s a you problem, not a me problem, and not an Emmalee problem. Give it up and don’t call again.”

I can hear Wesson through the phone now, “I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know who the fuck I am, but Emmalee is mine.”

Stone smirks as he moves closer to me making it easier for me to hear. Then he goes right in on Wesson. “I don’t give a flying fuck who you are. I don’t think Emmalee agrees she’s yours seein’ as her ass is here with me and been with me for months.”

I gasp as he lets my secret out. I haven’t been traveling like Wesson thinks. More than that, I have a feeling Wes will read into what Stone said since he lets there be this unspoken thing that I’m with him, like with him.

I’m not, but how can I tell Wes that? Does it matter? It doesn’t but it matters to me. I don’t know why but I don’t want Wes to think he wasn’t important to me. He was. It’s just complicated.

“I’m a motherfuckin’ Hellion and it matters she’s mine. Back off biker,” Wesson comes back.

Stone laughs, “Hellion, don’t start a war. Sinister Sons won’t let you walk away unscathed. Seems our Emmalee has a type and it’s the biker variety. You know the life. This is the only warning you get and it’s only because you got history with someone who means something to me. You make your way here, it’s war. Emmalee is free to answer her phone as she chooses. She didn’t choose you.”

“Put Emmalee on the motherfuckin’ phone. War doesn’t fuckin’ bother me.”

Stone clicks to end the call instead. Handing the phone back to me, I’m dumbfounded.

He calls again. I send it to voicemail.

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