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“Blah blah blah. Let’s drink.”
Fucking Addison.
She’s lucky I love her.
STANDING BEFORE ME, the club forms a group behind Jackson who is staring at me with those intense green eyes I can’t fucking read. I don’t know how they found me, but here we are, standing in the street, the crowd looking at us right as I was about to take off on my bike.
I don’t know if I was planning on going back to the club, or riding to Ciara, or if I was just going to find some time alone but either way, they got to me before I could. I know this is Addison’s doing. We had a hell of a night, and in the end, the pain in the ass had me laughing as we downed enough shots for me to feel like absolute crap today.
“What are you doin’ here, Jackson?” I mutter, crossing my arms, glaring at the people walking by with wide-eyed expressions.
Most of them look away.
“You know why I’m here; I have a daughter that won’t let shit go, but she makes a point.”
“So you bring the whole club and make a scene?” I grunt, leaning against my bike.
“We’re here because I fucked up. I didn’t see that you were goin’ through it. I stand by my decision because you went against me, but I own my part. So, we’re goin’ to get on our bikes and we’re goin’ to talk this out because we need shit to get back on track around here.”
I keep my mouth closed and stare at the group, then I nod sharply.
Jackson gives the group the all clear to break up and they do. He steps in front of me, extending a hand. I hesitate, but I take it because what he’s doing here is showing me that the club is on my side, and they always will be. I can’t be pissed about that. Not when he’s making it clear that my voice matters.
Fuck.
I take his hand, and he pulls me in, his other hand slapping down over my back in a show of respect.
He doesn’t need to say anything more.
“I’ll bring my bike around; we’ll ride, then we’ll talk.”
I nod again.
Then I get on my bike and wait for him.
We ride for an hour, just traveling down the winding roads, the wind in our faces, feeling the freedom that comes with this life. It’s everything, and I feel like a fucking idiot for nearly putting myself in the position of losing everything. Especially Ciara. Fuck, I hate the way I treated her. She deserves a fucking lot more than that.
She has always stood by my side.
Arriving at a lookout that extends all the way back to the ocean, we get off our bikes. I walk over, hands curling around the railing as I look out, the wind getting cold as the winter months creep closer. Jackson steps up beside me, not saying anything for a while, just letting the moment sink in.
Only then does he turn to me. “I was tryin’ to keep the people that matter to me safe.”
I don’t look at him, but I know what he’s saying. “I know.”
“But you’re right, we have lost our stance in this town and shit is gettin’ bad.”
I swallow the heavy feeling down and turn to him. “I disrespected you as the president of this club, but mostly, as my friend. Shouldn’t have done what I did. I fucked up. It won’t happen again.”
His eyes hold mine. “It won’t, because if it does, you won’t be part of this club.”
I nod. “I hear you.”
“We’ll clean up the mess, and you’re goin’ to be in charge of leadin’ that, but only if you make a plan, be smart, and don’t drop my club in hot water because what you were doin’ was fuckin’ reckless and stupid.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“We clear?”
