Hearts of Winter (Bleeding Angels MC Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

head.
     
    “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” She gives me a look that tells me she’ll be piling my plate high with goodies today.  “Jakey!” she exclaims as she catches sight of her son behind me. Seeing how tightly she embraces him brings tears to my eyes.
     
    “Hey Mom.” Jake soothingly rubs her back.  Sally is not a small woman, but Jake still towers over her as he engulfs her in his strong arms.  “You saw me yesterday, remember?” he points out jokingly as his mother quickly wipes happy tears away.
     
    “Can’t a mother just be happy to see her son?” she asks, giving him one last squeeze before she goes back to stirring something delicious on the stove.  “Your father’s in the TV room, working on something and leaving grease stains all over the table no doubt.” She waves absently off to her left. 
     
    Jake gives me a look, presumably to check that I’ll be alright before he goes to investigate what piece of machinery his dad is playing around with. 
     
    “She’ll be fine Jake, we don’t bite,” Sally says without even looking up.  I wonder if it’s only when you have your own kids that you develop eyes in the back of your head.  It’s a handy skill to have , I think to myself.
     
    Jake nods. “I’ll just be down the hall.” He looks meaningfully at me before disappearing out of the room.
     
    “So what can I help with?” I ask, looking around for something to do.  The unasked question of where my mother is hangs in the air, but both of us seem to be ignoring it.
     
    “You could reach those glasses for me,” Sally says, pointing to a high cupboard in the expansive kitchen.  It’s by far the biggest room in the house and it is most definitely the heart of the Summers home. 
     
    I open the cupboard and I’m surprised when I see the collection of what looks like crystal glasses.  “But these are the good ones, aren’t they?” I ask.  Sally was fiercely house-proud and despite there being a never-ending stream of friends and relatives that pass through this house, I have never seen her use the good crystal glasses—not ever.  I had been under the impression that they were just decorative and might melt if any actual liquid ever touched them.
     
    “Well, we’re celebrating, aren’t we?” Sally asks, not taking her attention off the boiling pot in front of her.
     
    “Sal—” I start to point out that I’m not sure a stay of execution of one month is cause for celebration, but she interrupts me.
     
    “It’s not every day that your two favorite people become an item, so I’m going to celebrate.” Her voice doesn’t brook any kind of discussion.
     
    I smile to myself as I start getting the glasses down from the cupboard.  “I know better than to argue with you over glass-ware,” I joke.  Sally’s shoulders relax visibly and I wonder how I hadn’t noticed the tension that she was holding there.  I’m grateful she didn’t say that she’s celebrating the Angels’ failure to take Jake on his 20th birthday, just like they have every other able-bodied male in the town.  I should have known that Sally is far too smart to think that just because we’ve got away from the Angels once, we’ll be able to do it again.
     
    “Can you grab me some mint from out back, please, honey?” Sally asks once she’s satisfied with the way I’ve arranged the glasses on the table.  “It’s growing like wildfire out there.” She laughs helplessly.  I’m pleased with the normalcy of the Summers household—the way that day to day life seems to be carrying on despite the pressure of external forces.  Or, more accurately, one external force.
     
    “Sure thing,” I say, glad to be of use. Then Jonah appears out of nowhere and follows me out, his truck clearly forgotten.
     
    “Aimee, Aimee, come see my tree-house, come see my tree-house,” he repeats in a sing-song voice as he bolts out the door.  “Hey Auntie B,” he shouts, tripping