A New Ride Begins

Nineteen

Ellie's POV

Tommy has been gone for nearly two weeks. I still can't get over how quiet the house is. It's just me and Kenny again, and with Ken gone with the club so much I feel like it's just me.

Me: sitting in the beautiful backyard Tommy fixed up for me.

Me: eating dinner alone and remembering how nice it was when he would cook for us.

Me: drinking coffee in the morning, staring out the window, having conversations with myself, praying he's okay.

It's been over a week since I'd heard from him. I don't know what is going on and it pisses me off a little more every day. When I ask Kenny or the boys about it, they tell me that he's fine. They say the less I know, the better it is for everyone.

Which is bullshit, by the way.

The less I know, the more I worry. The more I worry the less productive I am at home, at work and for the club.

Abel has come to see me once or twice. He says he isn't going anywhere until his brother comes with him. I tried to tell him that Tommy left, just like Tommy told me to, but Abel's not buying it. He promised to be back and he's kept that promise faithfully.

I'm in the middle of making yet another dinner for one when I hear the knock at the front door. I turn the stove burner on low and wipe my hands on my jeans. I walk toward the sound, expecting it to be a member of the club or maybe even my annoying neighbor looking for a cup of sugar.

Instead, I find Abel on the porch. He's leaning against the wood door frame and his eyes glossy and bloodshot.

He's drunk.

"I told you he's not here, Abel," I sigh in greeting.

"Maybe I wasn't even looking for him," he slurs.

"Did you drive here?" I ask him motherly.

My eyes look behind him to see his car parked haphazardly in the driveway.

He looks thoughtful a moment and then follows my gaze.

"Well, look at that. I guess I did," he answers. "Not very well, either."

Damn it all to hell. I'm stuck.

I can't, in good conscience, let that man get back behind the wheel of a car. I hold open the door and gesture for him to come inside.

He stumbles in and plops on the couch.

I go to check my food and by the time I come back he's tilted over and snoring loudly on the couch.

"Whose car's in my spot?" Kenny asks me a short while later as he comes through the back door and drops his keys on the kitchen table. "I hate having to park in back."

"Abel Teller's," I answer as I rub my throbbing temples.

I just finished putting away the dishes and I have a headache the size of the state of California itself.

Kenny chuckles as he kicks his boots off in the corner.

"You sure got a thing for them Teller boys," he teases as he sits beside me at the table.

I roll my eyes and punch his shoulder, not that it does much good. The big oaf probably didn't feel it a bit.

"He just showed up, completely plowed. I couldn't let him drive. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the couch."

"I heard the other Teller was in town," Kenny says with slight interest. "Haven't yet had the pleasure."

"Take a gander," I laugh. "But it's not much of a pleasure."