Grabbing Hold (The Motorcycle Kid #1)

55. The Matthews Guide to Party Planning

Our favourite party planner is back, my dudes. That's right, Kale is back in all his party planning glory. Get ready for fluff and stuff.

Ryder Garcia was making the most of his last few days in Misty Vale. And that meant spending almost all of his time in his favourite places doing his favourite things – eating half the cookie dough he prepped in the kitchen of the bakery-café, stuffing nuggets covered in honey dip down his throat at Tee's, and downing beers with his uncle in the garage while talking more motorcycle jargon than the average human cared to understand.

He'd recently discovered a soft layer of pudge settling around his midsection, making his hard lines of muscle appear a tad less defined, and Ryder wasn't going to lie, he wasn't very bothered by it. A toned, muscular physique had always been something he had striven to maintain because he didn't have much of a choice – he had been a star football player, after all, he had appearances to keep up. Now, without the obligations, he loved being able to eat what he wanted – whether that was chicken nuggets or cooking up a fresh pan of fricasé de pollo or simply drinking a smoothie made with real fruits rather than endless protein powder shakes.

If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he was feeling healthier, physically and mentally, than he had in a very long time. Fresh air, good food and a change in scenery was only half of it. The other half was an odd combination of long-withheld tears, overdue breakdowns, an attempt on his family's part to actually understand him and weigh him by his own merit, and him finally choosing to open up to people in a way he'd never thought possible.

At present, he was poring over his suitcase, sighing in despair as he looked over at the pile of laundry that still sat at the foot of his bed. A comforting kind of laziness had settled over him – Ryder didn't want to leave Misty Vale. It wasn't up to him, though. While he was on unsupervised probation, he couldn't risk jeopardizing his freedom. He'd been granted probation only because of his unique situation – the fact that he lived and had been raised in a household flagged for domestic violence – where he himself had been a victim – and his retaliation had been justified as an act of self-defence.

The second he returned to Chicago, Ryder would have to return to the routine of weekly mandatory meetings with his probation officer, which usually consisted of an hour's worth of being lectured about how he needed anger management and how the officer was only going to "let this slide one more time". Part of him dreaded it. His PO, a balding Caucasian named Sam Jones with a Cuban baby mama who lived in South Side, wasn't completely awful. He was pretty lenient, actually. Still, Ryder hoped a summer away had changed him enough to worm his way out of a weekly visit to the local police station, a place he was more familiar with than he wanted to be.

He hoped a summer away had changed a lot of things.

"Knock knock," a quiet voice said, fingers rapping against the open door of his room. He looked up from the suitcase to see his aunt Felicity in the doorway, smiling with a little wave.

"Hey you," she greeted him. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," said Ryder gently, motioning her over. "I could use the help."

"Still packing?" asked Felicity, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, I-I guess I got a little too comfortable." He scratched his neck nervously.

"Sweetheart," Felicity chuckled, tickling his chin while Ryder playfully shoved her hands away. "You're so cute, honestly. It's okay, Ry. You're always welcome here. This place is your home whenever – and for as long as you want it to be."

"I'm going to miss you guys."

"You're surprisingly sentimental." His aunt made a confused face. "Who are you and what have you done with my nephew?"