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As I get dressed after showering in my room at the clubhouse, determination fills me. I just got back in last night and as much as I wanted to go and try and hunt down Emery, I knew I needed a good night sleep, to get clean, and deal with checking in with Mom first. Then I’ll be free and clear to start hunting down my woman without anything else trying to pull me in another direction.
I have a little time until Emma’s graduation and I’m determined to have Emery by my side there. Well, as long as she doesn’t hate me for leaving without a note or any way to contact her. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure she forgives my bullshit.
It wasn’t malicious on my part, but that doesn’t mean it was okay either.
And fuck if it hasn’t bitten me on the ass because now I’m up the creek without a damn paddle. Then there’s how much I’ve missed her. I wish, desperately, that I was able to talk to her for the last three months. I wouldn’t be behind now and maybe she’d know me well enough to be ready to take the next steps with me.
Well, at least, after I figure out how to tell Mom I won’t be going back out onto the rig and what I’m going to do with my life next. That will be a conversation I’ll be having with Lucifer. I don’t have a single problem with the club taking a good portion of the profit from a tattoo shop if they’re helping me to open it.
I’m not ready to start wrapping my mind around the logistical shit I’ll need to figure out to make that little dream a reality.
But first, I need to deal with Mom.
I’m dreading it.
A Prospect I’ve never seen before and didn’t get the chance to meet last night when I got in is behind the bar, but I don’t head that way. If I stop now, I’ll put off heading over to the house where Mom and the girls live. There’s no use in delaying the inevitable.
The questions in his head are clear when I give him a chin lift before doing the same to Prodigal, the club’s VP who is delivering a plate of food to his old lady, Wrenley. I haven’t had nearly enough time to spend with the woman, honestly, but there’s no doubt the love shared between the couple. I’m damn happy for my brother.
He deserves all the happiness. Back in the day, when I was just a club brat and not even a Prospect yet, Prodigal’s high school sweetheart was killed in a home invasion. Everyone around the clubhouse thought they were going to go the distance and she was going to become his old lady. Fate had other plans.
I never blamed Prodigal for taking off after that. I don’t know what I would have done if I had been in his shoes. He was only a few years older than me, but we weren’t as close as he was with Tack, a club brat just like us, and Hacker, a friend from school who spent more time around the club than he did at home.
Dynamics changed back then after Prodigal left and I got closer to Tack and Hacker, but then they became Prospects and shit changed again. I never resented it though; it was shit that needed to go down.
They tried to have my back when shit went down and Dad died, but there wasn’t much to be done. I already had a summer under my belt working out in the Gulf and the pressure to take care of Mom and the girls was laid on my back.
I wasn’t even in the clubhouse the night Prodigal came back to New Orleans because I was working, but I was damn glad to see him when I was back shoreside. Having him as VP and a brother means something.
Finding out he went and fell in love with that same sweetheart’s younger sister, who used to come through on family days and shit, was shocking as fuck. But I swallowed down any judgement when I saw them together for the first time. There’s love there, real love that’s stronger than whatever Prodigal had when he was still a boy.
I heard all about how Prodigal beat himself up over the way he felt about Wrenley the moment he saw her again after years of no contact while protecting her from a shit example of a motorcycle club. The Riding Rebels aren’t a brotherhood, they’re selfish bastards who don’t care how they make their money and they sure as fuck don’t live by a code like we do in the DSMC.
As I close the distance to the clubhouse door, I can’t help but smile when I hear Wrenley try to admonish her man, “This is way too much food.”
It’s not very effective considering the huge smile on her face. It’s clear Prodigal isn’t fazed in the least when he gently cajoles, “You’re eating for two now, little bird.”
I chuckled and shook my head, unable to fully reconcile the guy I used to know, the one mired in pain, and the man who is doting on his pregnant wife and looking toward the future.
How long will it be before I can knock Emery up?
The thought has me almost falling over and off the back of my bike as I start it up. I can’t get ahead of myself, but I’m not going to lie—having that kind of future with Emery is exactly what I want.
I crave it.
I need it.
I will ensure it becomes a reality.
Well, as long as I’m able to find her and then get her to talk to me.
It doesn’t take very long to get to the house and I almost scoff. Mom refused any help from the club after Dad’s death. She said it was because the club was what killed him. While she might not be entirely wrong about that, considering he was on club business, that’s not what stopped her from allowing the club to help.
It was all her pride and her misplaced hatred.
I’m still a little surprised she didn’t put up more of a fight about me become a patched brother. Not like she could have stopped me. Maybe she just figured if she tried to put her foot down about something she had no fucking say in then she wouldn’t have me paying for fucking everything.
The thought has my stomach turning and resentment burrowing deeper into my bones.
