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Following the line of her arm to the other side of the lot, I see the unfamiliar Carola she’s talking about.
"I'm not sure kiddo. I've never seen it before.” It’s not unheard of for a random hang-around to stop by the clubhouse.
"It has a sticker with my school's name on it,” Mila adds, always the observant one.
I glance back at the car and see the sticker on the back window. "You never miss a thing, kid. You're almost as observant as your uncle Legend." She wrinkles her nose I laugh. "Why the face?"
“Uncle Ledgy said bad guys pee in his truck."
“That’s pretty gross, huh?” I laugh. Legend was a bounty hunter, and his job required him to chase down criminals who jumped bail. For some strange reason, Mila always wanted to know about the “bad guys” when she saw him.
"I don't like Uncle Legend's job.” She frowns. “He's always gone."
Something ugly coils in my belly when I hear the sadness in my baby girl’s voice. I’ve thought about telling her the truth a couple of times when she’s asked about her uncle, but I don’t think telling my seven-year-old that her uncle is in jail for nearly beating a man to death is the best idea. She’s too young to understand he did it protecting an innocent. Blowing out a breath, I tell her what I know to be true. “Uncle Legend would be here every day if he could.”
“I know,” she sighs unhappily as I open the clubhouse doors.
Mila steps inside and I follow her in,
“Can I ride my bike today?” I glance down at her and lift a brow.
“You’re good, kid.”
She smiles victoriously.
Leave it to my kid to bring up missing her uncle then turn around and ask about riding her dirt bike. She knows how much I hate dragging that thing out on Sundays.
“Maybe.”
“That means no,” she grumbles.
She’s probably right, but I ignore her pouting and usher her through the clubhouse and out the back door.
The second we step outside we’re hit with the delicious smell of Wrath’s famous barbecue slow cooking on the smoker and the sound of AC/DC streaming from the radio.
My lips twitch when I think about how much has changed in the last few years.
It’s not exactly booze and babes around here anymore, but damn if this place doesn’t still feel like home.
“Mila, help!”
“There’s your, buddy,” I say, dropping my hand onto Mila’s shoulder when Nash shouts her name as he tries to shake off his twin brothers.
“Two babies is too many,” Mila grumbles, shaking her head.
The corner of my lip turns up. She ain’t wrong about that. One toddler is a handful, two are chaos. That especially applies toNicki and Nolan. Sparrow’s boys have been like a wrecking crew since they started walking.
"Morgan!" Mila shouts, shaking off my hand.
Morgan?
Before I can get a good look at who she’s hollering at, she takes off across the lawn. There, with her feet kicking in the water, is a little girl with a riot of blonde curls that for some reason looks oddly familiar.
Looking behind her to see who she’s here with, I freeze.
Sprawled out on a lawn chair, is none other than the sexy as fuck woman who’s been running through my mind for weeks.
Oakland.
