Michael: The Hawthornes

The Hawthornes Michael An Aces MC Story By Nicole Jacquelyn Michael Copyright ©2023 by Nicole Jacquelyn EPUB Edition All Rights Reserved This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. 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