Page 1 of Swan

CHAPTER ONE

I’d lost count of how often friends and family greeted me as I stood leaning against the wall in the Hawks’ clubhouse. I loved this place and the people, but growing up in the club was hectic—sometimes suffocating yet comforting.

Hectic with constant parties, birthdays, and gatherings—plus trouble from outsiders, rival clubs, and even people here at the club and in town.

The suffocation came from growing up as a princess of the club. Everyone protected you. You couldn’t go far without a brother knowing about it.

I’d long ago given up on dating. Besides the fact my nerves got the better of me, which made me quiet and shy, any interested guys ended up running scared when they found out my father was vice president of the club.

The only exception was Lockland, my best friend.

But back to the comfort of the club and how they accepted me for me.

I never had to push a conversation when I didn’t want to. I could stand here and be quiet, and no one judged me. No one thought I was rude or cold if I read a book instead of socialising.

Which was why I put up with the overwhelming protection of my beautiful, crazy, loud family and friends.

Having their support had helped when I used to hear my peers’ whispers and judgement when at school.

“She doesn’t like anyone.”

“There’s the ice queen.”

“At least she’d be a silent fuck.”

All of it had rolled off my back because none of it mattered. I was happy. Nothing outside my world of Lockland, family, and club existed.

Then Lockland’s mum, Alisa Humphrey, sent a video of her fifteen-year-old son singing to a talent agent in America, and he got picked up.

The sun had dulled the day he told me they were moving overseas.

It dimmed even more when he left.

But everything darkened after he stopped communicating with me altogether two years later.

I’d tried everything to find out why. I’d called, emailed, texted. Contacted his mother and agent. All they told me was that he had to concentrate on his career, and he’d contact me when he could.

I understood he was a big deal—his voice was beyond amazing. Deep, rough, and used in a way that would attract millions.

His singing career had skyrocketed not long after he moved, and it was still going strong.

So yes, I really did comprehend how busy he could be.

But I never believed he wouldn’t have time for me.

We’d met when his family moved in next door to mine, and we’d become fast friends and inseparable after figuring out our common love of comics and 2 Minute Noodles with peanut butter.

Even after he moved, I managed to have him as mine for a couple of years—until everything changed. What hurt the most was that there’d been no explanation.

Even though the hurt was a constant stab to my stomach, I continued to watch his growth and supported his music. I also had a dream that when he toured Australia, he’d see me in the audience and realise he’d been an utter dick for forgetting about me.

His best friend.

Sighing, I shook my head.

I wasn’t delusional. Having that dream come true would be like having the brothers of the Hawks Motorcycle Club wearing tutus while riding their bikes.

Impossible. Fantastical. Unimaginable.

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