Page 94 of Sterling Clay

I blink once, drawing them better into focus as they continue toward the house.

“Mavis.” I yell, like she can hear me through the glass. Then I’m running for the front door, ignoring the shift in my family as people stand from the couch and Stone enters the living room from the kitchen.

I’m out the door without coat or hat or care as I race toward Mavis and Dutton. My vision blurs but I keep my sight on them until my arms are around them both and I’m kissing Mavis’s head.

“Oh my God, butterfly. Thank God.” I pull back, hands on her arms, scanning her face, looking for injury while at the same time focusing on her standing before me. She’s here, beneath my hands.

Then I notice the blue marks beneath her eyes and the stiffness in her shoulders. I have so many questions and they all tumble out at the same time.

“Are you okay? Is Dutton?” I place my hand on the back of his head, and he turns toward me, reaching out his arms for me. Tugging him to me, I press kisses in his hair while still addressing Mavis. “What happened? Where have you been? Who hurt you?”

Tears roll down Mavis’s face, her mouth falling open and then closing again. She trembles while shaking her head. I’m asking too much too fast.

Unable to be another second without touching her, I wrap my arm around her again. And then, she’s hugging Dutton and me at the same time. The leather jacket over her shoulders smells like stale cigarettes and cheap cologne, and it slips to the ground with her embrace.

Suddenly, the deep rumble of several motorcycles hits my ears, followed by the crunch of gravel as three imposing metal machines roll up my drive. The noise is deafening until they stop only a few feet from us. My brother Judd rides, and Sebastian owns a bike, but their rides are nothing like these powerhouses.

After the first man shuts off his engine, he kicks the stand and climbs off the motorcycle. For a moment, Mavis and I stare in the same direction, our arms wrapped around one another until Dutton whispers, “Granddad.”

Recognition slowly happens. The eyes uncovered by sunglasses are the same as Mavis’s. Dark hair is released from the helmet. He lowers a scarf that covers his nose, mouth, and neck.

Time stands still as Mavis doesn’t move forward and the man keeps his distance.

“Baby girl,” he states, his voice rough from age.

“Daddy?” She steps out from underneath my arms and stares back at her father. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t sound surprised to see him as much as she’s bewildered he is in my driveway.

“I got your message.” His gaze transfers to me. “You must be Clay.”

Mavis turns only her head, an apology as well as stark vulnerability on her face, but she has nothing to apologize for. Or anything to fear.

However, I am a bit concerned. I don’t know what this man and his biker brothers are doing here either. While I’d called him with my concerns for Mavis’s safety, he was short with his responses, ending our call with “I’m on it.”

I had no idea what that meant. Yet, here he is.

“Thanks for the call,” he offers me.

Mavis’s brows lift. “You called my dad?”

“Butterfly, I would have gone to the ends of the earth to find you.”

“Butterfly?” Her father chokes and we both turn back to him. The large man’s hard eyes soften a bit as he looks at his daughter. “He knows your nana’s name for you?”

Her nana called her that name? I had no idea. It hits me as I stand here, there is so much I still don’t know about Mavis in the a few short months I’ve known her, but I want to know it all like I once told her. I want time to learn everything.

I slip my arm around Mavis’s waist, gently tugging her so her back hits my chest while Dutton clings to my neck and side. I don’t know if the move is my fear that Mavis will go off with them, or a protective statement that I won’t let her go without a fight.

Her father catches the movement. I’m staking my claim.

“This what you want now?” He nods at us, while his eyes remain on his daughter. Then his gaze shifts over my shoulder. I don’t dare turn for the house or my family whom I’m certain are flanking me protectively as they watch this play out.

“This is what I’ve always wanted,” she tells him.

“Always were a little different.”

I’m not certain if the comment is an insult or compliment, or simply a statement that Mavis wanted something other than the lifestyle she’d been brought up in. Either way, she stiffens beneath my arm, and I squeeze, hopefully reminding her I love her as she is.