Free Broken & Burned by A.J. Downey

silence. I ignored him and worried about him anyways. I was pretty sure Jerry wouldn’t call the cops. He’d have to explain and he wouldn’t want the wounded pride but I had been wrong about him before. Dray gripped the steering wheel tightly to the point it creaked and my gaze flicked to him.
    “How the fuck a girl like you land with a guy like him?” he demanded and I opened my mouth to reply and closed it.
    “We went to high school together, he was on the basketball team, star player, and I was a cheerleader.” He looked me over.
    “I can believe it.” he grunted and I raised an eyebrow and wondered just what that was supposed to mean.
    “He was sweet, persistent even. Walked me to every class, would leave notes and flowers at my locker until I agreed to let him take me to homecoming. We had a few things in common… we were different but it was good. Then it was comfortable, and then it wasn’t but I guess by then it was normal.” Dray looked at me and I lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
    “He was my first,” I whispered, “I suppose it was naïve of me to think he would be my last.” I leaned my head back and watched storm clouds of emotion cross his face. He gripped the wheel with the strength to make it creak and I looked at his hands. The knuckles of the right one were starting to swell and turn purple. A cut, likely from one of Jerry’s teeth, was bleeding freely, a trickle of crimson disappearing between his ring and middle finger.
    “You had plans for him and you?” he asked and I thought about it, I mean really thought about it.
    “I have plans for me.” I said startled to realize that I had stopped believing Jerry would be a part of them a long time ago.
    “Good.” Dray said and turned onto his street. He didn’t ask what my plans were and so I didn’t volunteer them. I had some things to sort out, that was for sure. This was definitely an unscheduled detour on my life’s highway. He pulled the old muscle car smoothly into his driveway just behind a motorcycle parked in front of the garage. He left plenty of room for the bike to get around his car.
    “Dragon’s home.” He uttered.
    “I’m sorry?” I said.
    “My pops. He’s here.” He said.
    “You call your da’ Dragon?” I asked curiously. Dray shrugged.
    “That’s his name, you say dad funny.” He remarked.
    “I say it the way I was raised to say it, my da’ was full on Irish, accent and all.” I felt myself slip into my half brogue and smiled.
    “Accent is hot. You might want to use it to pick up dudes when you’re ready.” He got out of the car before I could say anything to the smart ass comment. He began extracting my suitcase from the back seat as I shut my door and the front door of the house opened.
    If I ever wondered what Dray might look like in twenty or thirty years, now I knew. I looked from father to son and back and shut my mouth.
    “Alright boy. You’re good to go.” The president of the Sacred Hearts MC and father of Draven… damn it, I still didn’t know his last name. Well I could try to fix that. Anyways, Dragon, was more built than Dray and a few inches shorter. His leather was time and care worn and looked comfortable. He came down the steps in blue jeans and used faded black leather chaps. He looked me over with the same intense burning gaze as his son, all though it was different somehow, friendlier than Dray’s. He had a dark, full beard where Dray usually went clean shaven or at the worst, with a little more than a five o’clock shadow. His smile was very white set in the deep black whiskers and his hair was long, but pulled into a low pony tail that hung down his back.
    “You must be her.” He said.
    “You must be him.” I said back and smiled. I stuck out my hand.
    “Everett Moran, pleased to meet you Mr. … “  I trailed off in hopes he would supply his last name.
    “Dragon.” He said and shook my hand firmly but carefully. I smiled and shook it back.
    “Dragon.” I