1
KRAY
The clubhouse smells like pine needles, which just about masks the usual smell of beer and mechanic’s grease. Just about, but not quite.
The tree looks out of place stuffed in a corner between the pool table and the jukebox, the top of it bent over and pushed against the ceiling.
Gina’s up a ladder stringing tinsel, which means there’s no one to get me another beer. I slide off the barstool and around behind the bar.
I’ve got my hand in the beer fridge, grabbing myself a cold one, when I hear the leather stool creak behind me.
“I’ll have a beer, waiter.”
Irritated, I turn to find two of my bearded brothers grinning at me.
“And a jack and coke for me,” chimes in Lyle.
“I’m not your bartender,” I mutter while fixing their drinks. But I don’t really mind. The girls always get excited about Christmas, and it’s nice to watch them decorate the clubhouse. If it wasn’t for the ladies, the clubhouse would stay looking miserable all year round.
“You around for Christmas this year?” Jesse asks as I slide onto my bar stool.
“Yeah, I guess.” I’m always around for Christmas. My only family outside of the motorcycle club is my big brother who lives over fifteen hundred miles away.
I sip my beer as I think of my brother. It’s been a while since I saw Ethan, and I wonder what the handsome fucker is up to.
Taking out my phone, I bring up his social media feeds.
As usual, my brother is living the high life with his equally as handsome husband. As Chief Marketing Officer of a leading cereal brand, Ethan’s doing pretty well for himself.
There’re pictures of him with his husband Craig on holiday in New York, hiking in Peru, having cocktails on a beach somewhere I’ve never heard of. They love traveling and are always going away somewhere.
You wouldn’t peg us for brothers. While Ethan’s hair is cropped short, mine’s long and shaggy. He keeps his face clean shaven, but I’ve got a thick beard. His clothes are smart casual and fashionable. I’m always at home in black jeans and biker’s cut.
We’re polar opposites, but I feel a pang of regret looking at his picture. Sometimes I miss my big brother. We grew up close, especially after our parents passed away.
We were both in our early twenties when our parents were taken in a road accident. The grief changed us both, and we healed in different ways.
I found the MC, and Ethan found a love for travel. Then he met Craig, and they settled down in Bourbon, Texas. It’s over fifteen hundred miles away on the bike, too far to visit regularly.
“You guys around Christmas Day?” I ask Jesse and Lyle.
“I’ve got a family thing,” Jesse says. “But I’ll stop by later.”
It’s the same every Christmas. The stragglers and those with nowhere to go end up at the clubhouse.
It’s great fun, but sometimes I can’t help wishing I had somewhere else to be, with a family of my own. I love my MC brothers, but I don’t want to see their ugly mugs every day of the year.
I’m scrolling through my brother’s feed when something makes my heart stop.
There’s a photo of Ethan at what looks like an office party with a group of people wearing crooked smiles that are too wide. Cleary they’ve had too much to drink.
Wedged between my brother and a man in a suit that looks too small for him is a woman with dark shoulder length hair and a scowl on her face. She’s the only one in the photo who doesn’t look happy—or drunk.
The woman is beautiful. Like, take-my-breath-away beautiful. She’s wearing thick black eye liner and dark red lipstick. It gives her a don’t-fuck-with-me look that sets my dick stirring and my heart hammering against my rib cage.
My world shifts. The room spins.
Mine.