The Hawthornes

  Michael

  An Aces MC Story

  By Nicole Jacquelyn

  Michael

  Copyright ©2023 by Nicole Jacquelyn

  EPUB Edition

  All Rights Reserved

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Dedication

  To those who spend their adulthood healing from their childhood.

  We see you.

  You’re enough.

  You’re doing great.

  Keep going.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Michael

  “Hey, gorgeous,” I murmured, a smile pulling at my lips as I opened my locker. Fuck, I was so ready to be done with lugging books around. If it wasn’t for my mother, who’d threatened dismemberment if I didn’t finish high school, I would’ve already dropped out.

  Emilia’s hair fell into her face as she tipped her head down. “You’re impossible.”

  “Not good at hidin’,” I agreed, grabbing the books I’d need that night. “Not sure why we are.”

  “You know exactly why,” she replied, shutting the locker next to mine. “My parents would have multiple heart attacks if they thought there was anything going on between—”

  “You mean I can’t tell your old man about the way you climbed on my lap and—”

  “Michael,” she snapped, smacking my arm. “Don’t.”

  “Fine,” I muttered with a sigh. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I gestured for her to walk. “After you.”

  “Is your mom home today?” she asked, falling in beside me as we walked toward the front of the school. The halls were crowded, but like always, people made a path as we moved through them. We may not have made our relationship public, but everyone knew that Emilia belonged to the Hawthornes.

  “Should be.” I glanced at her. Damn, she was pretty. She was smaller than most of the girls in our school, even the freshman, which made us kind of an odd couple since I was so big, but somehow we worked. “Why, you hopin’ for a little time to ourselves?”

  “My mom will probably call to check in,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “It’ll be better if your mom is there.”

  “I don’t know how the fuck your parents still think you’re tutorin’ me,” I said with a laugh, opening the door for her. The change from the hallway’s fluorescent lighting to the bright sun made me grimace, and I pulled on some sunglasses. “Seems like they would’ve caught on after almost a year.”

  “I think they feel more comfortable assuming that you aren’t as smart as me.” She glanced at me apologetically. “Because if they’ve done everything they’re supposed to their entire lives—”

  “Then how the hell could a kid that grew up playing in the gravel driveway of a motorcycle club be as smart as their precious daughter?”

  “You know how they are.”

  “Unfortunately, I do,” I muttered, shooting her a small smile so she knew we were still okay. Her parents’ views on the club, my family, and me specifically weren’t news. We’d been friends our entire lives, spent every year in the same class in school, and still, they saw my family as some white trash criminals.

  It probably started when my mom dropped me off at kindergarten with a half shaved head, the rest of her hair a vivid blue, and a matching septum ring. She wasn’t exactly the picture of a PTA mom. Though, it could’ve started the first time my dad picked me up on the back of his bike. Either way, their opinion of me was set in stone.

  “Can you guys hurry up?” my little brother Rumi called across the parking lot. He was sitting on the tailgate of my truck, his backpack on the ground by his feet. “It always takes you guys twice the time it takes everyone else to get the fuck out of there.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I called back as we got closer. “In a hurry to get home?”

  “I’d rather not stay any longer than I have to,” he griped, pulling his long hair back into a ponytail.

  “Bus left five minutes ago,” I reminded him, grabbing his bag as we reached the truck and tossing it in the bed with mine. “You coulda already been gone.”

  “I’m not ridin’ the bus,” he grumbled, hopping down. “I’d rather walk.”

  “No one’s stoppin’ ya.”

  “Hey, Rumi,” Emilia said, interrupting our bickering with a grin.

  “Hey, Emmy Lou Who,” he murmured, throwing his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in until her face smashed against his chest. He tugged the backpack off her shoulder. “How ya been, sprite?”

  “Pretty good since you saw me at lunch,” she replied, laughing as she shoved him away.

  “You’re the best part of my day,” Rumi announced dramatically, throwing his arms out wide, the backpack dangling from one hand.

  “Could you stop flirting with my girlfriend?” I complained, grabbing Emilia’s hand so I could tow her toward the driver’s side door.

  “Can’t,” Rumi said, stashing the bag with ours. “She’s too good for you, Mick. I’m gonna steal her.”

  I scoffed as Emilia laughed. It was a familiar argument that none of us took seriously. The chance of my brother trying to make a move on my girl was about as likely as being killed by a falling meteor.

  “So, no practice today?” Rumi asked as we headed home. My brother was annoying, but I actually liked when he rode with us because it meant that Emilia would sit in the middle seat, pressed against me from shoulder to thigh.

  “It’s a rare break,” she replied, leaning her head against my arm. “Only a week, though.”

  “Damn, girl,” Rumi said, rolling down his window. “You work too hard.”

  “Don’t light up in here, man,” I ordered as he reached toward his pocket. “She can’t go home smelling like weed.”

  “I rolled the window down!”

  “You’re sittin’ right next to her, dipshit.”

  “Fine.”

  “We’re almost home anyway,” I said, pulling onto our driveway. “Go out back and smoke.”

  “Mom’s got a nose like a bloodhound,” Rumi grumbled, using both hands to smooth his hair away from his face. “She’s caught me like seven times.”

  “Maybe you should stop smoking?” Emilia asked sarcastically.

  “Never,” he shot back. He hopped out of the truck the minute I’d rolled to a stop.

  “He’s such a pain in the ass.”

  “He’s adorable,” Emilia replied, elbowing me lightly in the side. “He’s like a golden retriever.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, putting the truck in park. “What am I?”

  She tilted her head to the side and stared at me. “A bulldog,” she said finally, her lips twitching.

  “Ouch!” I hit the buckles on our seat belts and reached for her, jabbing my fingers into her ribs the way I knew would have her jumping out of her skin.

  “Michael,” she screeched, pushing at my hands. Her whole body shook with laughter. “It wasn’t a burn!”

  “I am offended.” I chased her across the seat as she struggled to escape.

  “You’re muscular,” she yelled. “Your shoulders are massive!”

  “Well,” I said, pausing. “I like where this is going.” I made a face at her, pushing my bottom jaw forward so it looked like I had a severe underbite.

  “Oh, my god,” she said, wheezing. “Quit it.”

  “Why?” I asked, spitting a little as I held my jaw forward. “I’m a bulldog.”

  “You’re a lunatic,” she argued, scrunching her nose. “But I love you anyway.”

  “Good,” I said, smiling down at her. “’Cause I’m crazy for you.”

  “Or maybe just crazy?”

  “Nah, it’s all for you, sugar.”

  “Michael Asa Hawthorn
e,” my mom said, knocking on the window behind me. “Stop molesting that girl in the driveway and come help me with the groceries.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Emilia said, leaning around me so she could smile at my mom.

  “Emmy, if you don’t call me Heather, I’m going to start making you do chores,” my mom replied. “Looking good, sweetheart. Love the hair.”

  “Yeah?” Emilia said, reaching up to fix the bangs she’d just cut the night before. “I wasn’t sure—”

  “No, it suits your face. Very cute.”

  “Thanks,” Emilia said happily.

  I sat up and pulled Emilia with me as my mom opened up my door.

  “Not sure you should be takin’ hair advice from someone who regularly cuts hers into a mohawk,” I said jokingly, dodging my mom as she tried to pinch me.

  “Yeah, right,” Emilia said as she climbed out behind me. “Your mom always looks awesome.”

  “I like her,” my mom said to me. “Make sure you don’t fuck it up.”

  Emilia laughed.

  “Why would I fuck it up?” I asked as I followed them toward my mom’s van. “Maybe it’ll be Emmy.”

  “Ha!” my mom said, wrapping her arm around Emilia’s waist. “Emmy’s an angel.”

  Emilia looked at me over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out.

  I grumbled as I grabbed bags of groceries out of the back of the van, but I wasn’t really mad. I actually pretty much loved that Emilia got along with my family so well. It wasn’t a surprise, she got along with everyone and had always been pretty universally liked, but there was something different about how my family treated her. They loved her. It wasn’t conditional on whether or not we were together, we’d had a couple break ups, especially in the beginning before we’d started the whole “tutoring” thing and weren’t able to hang out very much—but they’d treated her the same whether we were off or on.

  Emilia’s house wasn’t like ours. Her parents loved her and I didn’t think they’d ever neglected her or hurt her or anything like that… they just expected a lot. When they didn’t get what they wanted or she disappointed them, they iced her out. I always knew when it happened. She’d show up at school quieter than normal or she’d snap at me for something she’d thought was funny the day before, or like this morning, she’d show up with a new hairstyle she’d done herself. I could always tell, though. It was impossible for her to hide anything from me, we knew each other so well.

  “Otto was home with a headache today,” my mom said as we headed into the house. “So heads up, he’s in the family room.”

  “Poor guy,” Emilia said quietly. “We’ll keep it down.”

  “He’s just watching TV, honey,” Mom said, putting her bags on the counter. “You don’t have to be quiet.”

  “He has a hard time sleepin’,” I explained, looking around. “Where the hell is Rumi? Why isn’t he helpin’?”

  “I didn’t see him, so I thought he rode the bus?” my mom said in confusion.

  “He rode with us,” I replied.

  “That little shit,” my mom said, narrowing her eyes. “I bet he’s out back.”

  She raced for the back door and I followed her, holding the door open as she tried to close it in my face.

  “Mom’s coming, Rum,” I yelled, laughing as she backhanded me in the belly. “The fish flies at midnight! Abort mission! Abort!”

  I was still laughing as I shut the door and turned to face Emilia.

  “The fish flies at midnight?” she asked in amusement.

  “It was one of our code phrases when we were little,” I explained, unpacking and storing shit in the pantry. “There was also, ‘the blue moon shines in the morning and the archer shoots in darkness.’”

  “You guys were weird,” she said, tossing me a box of cereal.

  “You already knew that,” I said with a shrug. “You still want to jump me.”

  “All the time,” she said, copying my shrug as she threw another box my way.

  “You wanna leave a little early tonight?” I asked, lowering my voice so Otto wouldn’t hear me in the family room.

  “If we keep parking at the back of the property at your dad’s club, they’re going to know we’re out there doing stuff,” she said, widening her eyes at me.

  She looked so cute and embarrassed that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that everyone knew exactly what we were doing when we went and parked on club property. We had to check in at the fucking gate when we got there, they knew exactly when we came and left. There’d been no shortage of advice, ribbing, and warnings shot my way.

  “We could always go down by the river,” I said, grabbing a few more things to put away. “But we’re more likely to see people there.”

  “Can I think about it?” she asked, biting the inside of her cheek.

  “Sure,” I said, stopping to kiss her. “We don’t have to.”

  “I mean, I always want to,” she said, smiling up at me. “But one of us has to use a little caution.”

  “You know what I like to do with caution?” I asked, my hands sliding down her sides to her ass. “Throw it to the wind.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Stop playing grab ass,” Rumi said, bursting through the door out of breath. “And thanks for the heads up.”

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “She chased me through the yard and I locked her in the garage.”

  “You did what?” Emilia asked in alarm.

  “She can get out,” Rumi said with a grin as he hurried through the kitchen. “But by the time she does, I’ll have hidden my stash somewhere she can’t find it.”

  “She’s going to murder him,” Emilia said as we watched him run down the hallway.

  “Absolutely,” I agreed, letting my hands fall away from her ass. “Come on, we can hang outside once I finish this.”

  “You’re a good son,” Emilia said as she helped me. “In here unpacking groceries while one of your brothers lays on the couch and the other hides his drugs from your parents.”

  I smiled. “I don’t mind pitchin’ in when I can,” I said, opening up the fridge. “Rumi’s an asshole, but Otto’s probably exhausted. He gets insomnia real bad and sometimes he doesn’t sleep all night. That’s what causes the headaches. He ends up sleepin’ all day.”

  “Oh.” Emilia frowned. “Why didn’t I know that?”

  “He doesn’t like it when we make a big deal about it, so we don’t,” I said, leaning into the fridge to try to organize the million random containers of leftovers, hot sauce, and food. “Doctors said he’ll probably grow out of it.”

  “He thinks I won’t find it,” my mom said, coming in calmly through the kitchen door. “He thinks I’ll forget. But what do I always say, Mick?”

  “You’ll remember far longer than we do.”

  “That’s right,” she said darkly, looking over at Emilia. “I always remember.”

  “What time are Titus and Myla getting home?” I asked her, trying to distract her. “Are you picking them up?”

  “They’re riding the bus today,” Mom replied. “And hallelujah for that. I’ve been driving all day.”

  “What did you have to do?” I asked as she started helping us unload the groceries.

  “I had a doctor’s appointment—and no, you can’t ask for what, some things can be private, thank you very much—and then I had to get the oil changed in my van.”

  “Did you take it to the club?” I asked, glancing at her.

  “Of course not,” she said with a huff. “I only have a few ways to annoy your dad anymore, and that’s one of them. I went to one of those drive thru places.”

  “He’s going to shit.”

  “That’s the point,” she said, grinning like the Joker. “After that, I had to go get some plants for the yard, bring them back here because they filled up the back of the van and then I had to grocery shop. I only beat you guys home by a few minutes.”

  “Damn, long day.”

  “Watch your mouth around Emmy,” my mom said easily, like she didn’t swear like a sailor herself. “And you haven’t distracted me. Rumi is still going to feel my wrath.”

  “Well, at least tell him I tried,” I replied.

  “I’m sorry, Emmy,” my mom said, pausing to face Emilia. “I know you probably think we’re lunatics.”