Page 41 of Property of Tacoma
“Secret recipe,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Been in my family for generations.”
Saylor chatters away beside me, telling me about her school, her friends, and how her Uncle Red’s dogs, Axle and Ralph, follow him everywhere. I listen, nodding and asking questions in all the right places, enjoying her animated storytelling.
On my other side, Jagger is quieter, focused on his food. But I can feel him watching me, curiosity evident in his sideways glances.
“So,” he finally says, setting down his fork. “Your bike’s pretty cool.”
I smile, surprised by the compliment. “Thanks.”
“Most of the girls I know won’t even get on the back of a bike, let alone ride their own,” he continues.
“Well, I grew up around motorcycles,” I explain. “My grandfather taught me to ride when I was fifteen. Drove my dad crazy.”
Jagger’s lips twitch. “I bet. My dad says I can get my motorcycle license next summer.”
“Not a day sooner,” Tacoma calls from across the table, clearly eavesdropping.
I laugh at Jagger’s exaggerated eye roll. “Hey, it’s not that long to wait.”
“Easy for you to say,” he grumbles. He pushes his food around his plate for a moment before adding, “We were supposed to go to Yellowstone for fall break this year. Mom promised.”
“That should be fun.”
He looks up, hurt shining in his eyes. “She canceled. Like always.”
I nod, understanding flooding through me. “My mom was always breaking promises. She left when I was little,” I share, not sure why I’m telling him this, but feeling like he needs to hear it. “Just packed up and disappeared one day. My grandfatherraised me mostly. My dad was always wrapped up in club business.”
Jagger’s eyes widen slightly. “That sucks.”
“It did,” I agree. “But you know what? She’s the one missing out.” I gesture towards him and his sister. “You guys are great.”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
The conversation shifts to easier topics after that, but I can’t help noticing how Jagger seems more relaxed, more engaged.
It’s a small thing, this connection, but it feels important somehow.
I glance around the table, watching the interactions—the teasing between brothers, the easy camaraderie, the way Roxy fusses over everyone, making sure they have enough to eat.
My chest aches with a longing I haven’t acknowledged in years.
This is what I’ve been missing.
Family.
Belonging.
A place where I fit.
Back in Jacksonville, things are changing.
Mason is building a life with Cora, starting a family of his own.
And I’m... drifting.
Alone in my fancy RV, moving from job to job.
Across the table, Tacoma catches me watching everyone, and something in his expression tells me he gets what I’m feeling.
