Cocky Biker(60)

Hearing it said out loud like that makes my chest hurt. “She told you he’s pretty mad at me.” I’d listened to Melodi talk to Jett’s mom for me, so I knew at least one side of the conversation.

Melodi and I discovered we’re alike in some ways, both stubborn and strong.

We came to a mutual respect. Might even become friends. But who knows?

I don’t mind a bitch as long as she’s on my side.

“She did tell me that, yes. What happened, if I might ask? She didn’t say.”

Taking the cold glass from Jett’s mother, I pause, staring at her. “Umm…I wasn’t ready when he was. Your son’s very…” I stop from saying, ‘good,’ because then it sounds like I’m not good, and I don’t want his mom knowing that. “…different, from the men I’ve met. I guess I needed some time to believe it.”

And to think I might be worthy of being happy.

Another thing I’ll keep to myself.

“He is that,” she smiles with pride. “Let me show you your room.”

“It was so nice of you to let me stay here, Mrs. Cocker.” I had no idea why she offered that, until now. Manners are something she has in spades. She seems like the type of person who if she didn’t like you, you’d never know it. She’d treat you with respect just the same.

Waving my gratitude away with her hand, she motions for me to bring my suitcase and follow her. “To tell you the truth, I was hoping you’d tell me a little about him!” Walking upstairs, she explains, “The hardest part of being a mother is when they grow up and move away. My Jeremy is in the Marines, did Jett tell you?”

“He did.”

“I miss him like crazy. He had a ten-day leave after boot camp before he had to go to that School of Infantry, then he got deployed and has been bouncing around ever since. Been a little over a year now. I was hoping he could come home for the wedding but he’s needed there. It’s this way, Luna.” We pass photos of the brothers growing up – they line the long hallway’s walls and my eyes zip over them as we pass, longing to linger.

Family.

What was it like growing up in a place like this?

I can’t even wrap my head around it.

“We Skype all the time. I’m so happy for the Internet. How mothers of boys in the armed forces lived without it in days gone by, just makes me shudder to think of it. Must have been so lonely. It’s right here.” She opens a door to a good-sized room and surprises me by saying, “This was Jett’s room growing up. I thought maybe you’d like to stay here.”

Oh fuck. How my heart turned over when she said that.

Slowly walking in, I soak it all in.

There’s a Led Zeppelin poster over an oak bed, a navy blue comforter pulled tight across it with matching pillows. On the dresser rests drumsticks, a book by Kurt Vonnegut and Hemingway, and boxing gloves.

As she says, “I cleaned out the clutter when he moved out years ago, but kept what was most important. He’s staying with Jaxson now. Hoped he’d stay with us, but…” she trails off, and I know from what Jett’s told me that it’s because of her husband that Jett’s not here.

Picking up the dented drumsticks I turn them over in my hands. I wasn’t sure where he was staying, and thought it might be here.

When I heard the quiet in the house I thought maybe the men were out somewhere. I’ve been waiting for him to walk in at any moment and give me a heart attack.

“He played drums?”

“He was terrible at them!” she says with a pained look. “Just awful. Banging away in here so we made him put them in the garage after one night of that! I can’t even tell you how annoying it was. Don’t tell him I said that, but good lord, you can’t be good at everything!” She walks to the gloves. “This though, he was great at this. Hard for a mother to watch her son getting punched, but Jett gave more than he got. I only went to one match. Too much for me.”

Smiling, I can imagine how weird that must have been for her. “I’ve seen his skill. He’s very good.”

Her eyebrows rise up. “Oh?”

Shit.

“They deserved it,” I offer, knowing I just said something I shouldn’t.

Mrs. Cocker crosses her arms. “Please tell me more than that.” She’s not upset, just wants to be on the inside. But I can’t tell her what happened, because I don’t want this nice woman, the mom of the man I love, to know where I come from. She already looks at me like I’m a foreign object and not one of her tribe. What would she think if she knew just how dark my past is?

“Please,” she softly says.