Page 2 of April’s Fool

As we head back to the clubhouse, most of the conversation is between Mercy and Kayla. I listen and contribute occasionally, but my mind is elsewhere, filled with the anxiety of going back to school in a few days.

I thought school would be amazing, and it is, to an extent. There are parts of it no one knows the truth about because I hide them. I don’t want anyone to know how hard it’s been. There have been more than a few times when I thought about quitting, giving up, and saying, screw it all. But I didn’t work hard through high school, taking not just my regular high school classes but also being part of a dual enrollment program, taking college classes as well, to give up what I’ve been working toward.

“So, after tomorrow’s party, why don’t the three of us go out to celebrate your birthday?” Mercy suggests shifting the conversation.

“We don’t have to do that,” I mumble. I hate my birthday. My mom named me, but she wasn’t very creative. I was born in April, specifically on April Fool’s Day. People who thought it was a joke found it funny. However, for me, it was so irritating that I grew to despise it.

“You know we do. You’re turning twenty-one, and we’ve got to party for you,” Kayla says.

“What if we skip the celebration? We’re already attending the party tomorrow at the clubhouse, and another club is coming too, so we can ignore my birthday completely. Plus, we can celebrate all our achievements later, after finishing school. That would be much better.”

If I finish, I’m almost there. Just a little longer and I’m done.

“Fine,” Mercy mutters, though I know she dislikes it.

“Thank you.”

Reaching for the radio volume, I turn it up. One of our favorite songs blares through the speakers. It’s an oldie but a goodie. You can’t go wrong with Hinder’s “Lips of an Angel”.

Chapter 2

FOOL

“You good, brother?”

I glance up from the message I’d been reading on my phone to meet Hazard’s gaze. He’s my brother, bound by both blood and club. A club I only recently earned my patch after a stint as a prospect. Thank fuck I don’t have to deal with polishing toilets and any of the shit jobs any longer, but it was worth doing all those things in the end. It got me my patch.

My sense of belonging.

After leaving the SEALS a year and a half ago, I had no plan and didn’t know what to do with the rest of my life. I felt completely lost. I started withdrawing from the people around me. Honestly, I never thought about approaching the club to become a prospect—at least, not until Hazard sat me down with his Prez and VP, Cannon and Hornet. They talked to me about what was on my mind. For a long time, I felt alone. My mind was a mess after leaving. It wasn’t my choice to leave the SEALS. I had been medically discharged for mental health reasons, which I thought was pretty much a joke.

I nearly lost my entire unit to a missile strike. We were returning from a mission where we rescued a kidnapped girl held for ransom by terrorists. Due to the mission’s classified nature, I can’t discuss any details. The only information my brothers-in-arms know is that I lost men I considered brothers—men I’d served with for years, many of whom I’d known since recruitment.

In the end, though, they convinced me to join the club. Just two weeks ago, I earned my patch alongside Wilder.

It takes me a moment to think about Hazard’s question. Whether or not I was actually good. I wasn’t so sure after reading the text I got. Clearing my throat, I figure I might as well tell him. He’s one person I’ve never lied to. If I tried, he’d call me on it in a heartbeat. “Stacy texted me.”

Stacy, my ex— the woman I believed I would marry after returning from my first deployment. I was serious about it, having asked her right after we graduated from high school. I worked hard to buy her a ring. It wasn’t expensive, but it was meaningful. She accepted my proposal, then returned the ring while I was overseas, saying she couldn’t handle military life. I haven’t heard from her since.

Until now.

“What the fuck does that bitch want?” Hazard demands, his lip curling into a sneer. He thought of Stacy as a sister. I’d been with her since the ninth grade. Her ending things the way she did fucked with him, too, considering she’d refused to talk to him.

“I don’t fuckin’ know, other than she’s asking me if I’d meet her for coffee or some shit,” I answer.

“You gonna meet up with her?” he asks, one brow cocked as he studies me. One thing I’ve noticed my brother likes to do is try to take keep a finger on my as often as he can. He’s protective that way. Has to know where my head’s at at all times. It’s one reason he holds the enforcer position for the club.

“No.” I have no reason to meet up with Stacy. It’d do nothing now other than piss me off. I don’t need or want the headache of seeing my ex for whatever reason she’s reaching out to me after all these years. Yeah, nah, I’m good.

“Right,” Hazard grunts. Then asks, “You ready to hit the road? We gotta hit it if we’re gonna make it to the Devil’s Riot MC clubhouse on time.”

“I still don’t know why we’re even going to this club.” It’s not that I’ve got anything against the other club, but the Grave Prowlers MC don’t bend to anyone.

“Cannon and Hornet both know several members of the Devil’s Riot MC. They’ve already established an alliance with them, and since we’re looking to expand production, we’ve got to make friends with our allies.”

Makes sense, but I didn’t know why we had to go to some cookout or whatever.

“This alliance is a big deal for our clubs. We’ve got our territory, but so do they. We’re all very close to toppling each other. It’s a delicate balance not to cross a line. The last thing we need is for them to fuck us over or for them to think we’re trying to do the same.”