Page 13 of Can't Get Over You
Holy shit.“Hang on.” Instead of entering the bar, he hurried around to the side of the building, where it was quieter. Hisboots sank into the sand, and he leaned against the rough wood siding. “Say that again. Marco Rossi’s your dad?”
“Yeah. He died. And now, I live with my grampa.”
“Okay, but how’d you get my number?” He hadn’t talked to his old friend in years.
“My dad gave me a picture of you and him together. On the back, it says, ‘If I’m not around, call Jude. He’s me just in another place.’”
The words echoed inside his brainpan.
Me in another place.
Sorrow sliced through him.
Regret.
That was the thing about Marco. He could be a total fuckup—he had the worst judgment of anyone Jude knew—but then, he’d say something like that. Something insightful. Sensitive. And it exposed a whole other side of him.
A side worth knowing.
The side that saved his ass when he was the soft new kid dropped into a strange and scary biker world.
His eyes squeezed shut, and he dropped to a crouch, lowering his head into his hands and letting the pain engulf him.
After the Marines, Jude made the decision not to go home. As much as he loved his family, he knew there was no way to reinvent himself in a small town. So he’d hit the road. He’d seen a lot of this country. It was easy to get bartending jobs. Hell, his dad owned Wild Billy’s. He’d grown up in one.
It was only last year, when he’d heard Marco had died, that Jude wished he hadn’t cut him out so completely.
And yeah, he’d known about a son. He just hadn’t given it much thought. Having a kid was outside his realm of understanding.
“Mister?” the kid asked. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. So you need a bike, huh?”
“Yeah. Can you get me one?”
The waves crashed and dragged on the shore, and a salty breeze cut through the humidity. Things just weren’t adding up. “Where’s your mom?”
“I don’t know.”
A couple staggered past him, heading for the shore. “Where are you right now?”
“In the club.”
Marco’s son was living in the bike club? “And you’re with your grandpa?”
“Yeah, but he’s sick and can’t take me to school, and I really need to go.”
Jude watched moonlight hit the surface of the ocean and splinter. A group gathered around a bonfire. A couple humped each other in the shadowy space underneath a house on stilts.
Marco’sson. It was taking him a minute to wrap his head around it. “How old are you?”
“Five.”
In Calamity, all grade levels were housed in one complex. The club was a good fifteen miles from the school. Yeah, not a chance a kid could ride a bike there.
“Please, Mister? Will you get me a bike?”
The urgency in his tone had Jude standing. “Yeah, I’ll get you one.”
