Page 112 of Bleed Me

I was suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“When did your ‘change’ happen?”

I could barely speak but understood why Diesel wanted me to be the one in Art’s room, so I found the courage to do right by the man who did right by me. “I believe after I buried my sister…” I swallowed. “I watched her die… I couldn’t save her…” My voice cracked, “Like you did Justice.” That was my way of thanking him for helping Justice. I needed him to know that I knew what he had done, and how I would forever be grateful.

Tears started dripping from Art… His whisper was so full of guilt. “Being in captivity again, man… I wished for Justice to appear.” He shrugged like he was dumbfounded to be such a piece of shit.

Had I not known such loneliness, I would have punched that man for wishing any harm on my woman, but I understood the desperation. My eyes welled up. “I probably did the same, wanting Jenny back.”

After a long pause and more silent tears from Artist, he finally asked, “Will I change? Like you and Seth?”

I sharply inhaled when I finally comprehended his pending fear. “Art, fuck. Is that what you think?” With blue eyes so lost, he nodded. I shook my head. “Dude, I, uh… no. I don’t think it happens like that.”

His lips pursed as he blew out his relief.

We sat in silence until he said, “Seth blames Justice for his father’s—The Pack’s death.”

“I don’t know who ‘The Pack’ is, but it’s blamed, Art. Seth is dead.”

It sounded like he was mentally waving a white flag. “Do you think my soul will believe that someday?”

“I do. I really do—”

I couldn’t finish my sentence because, from the hallway, I heard a voice I hadn’t heard in years. Viola. “Bro! Chill! I only want to see him for two seconds.”

Eyes wide as saucers, Art hastily pointed to his dark bathroom. I didn’t even have a chance to shut the door completely before Art’s bedroom door opened. Peeking through the crack, I watched Art fake sleeping until V reached for a lamp. He begged, “No light. My head is killing me.”

V kissed his forehead then sat right where I had just been. “I was scared shitless for you.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m all good, girl.”

Then a large body stepped into the room and stood at the edge of Art’s bed. The back of his T-shirt read Team 69.

What the fuck does that mean?

“Sorry, man. As you know, my wife can be quite persistent.”

Tucker!

It was so hard not to swing the door open and hug the bastard. Wait. Holy shit! Wife? Damn. I was right. I smiled because every time I had asked Tuck if he was into V, he denied it. Always. Mentally messaging him, like he could hear my thoughts, I thought, “you fucking had it bad for V.” I should’ve been petrified about being seen, but when I saw Viola fighting tears and getting up, wrapping her arm around my old best friend, leaning into that big fucker like he was her dream come true, I was so happy for them both. Well, ain’t that some shit? Hell of a job, Team 69.

I stayed in Art’s room, never far from my guns and ready to battle, but no fight ever came to the club. A week later, one night when Dagger delivered some food for Art and me, I asked, “Still no word?” I was sitting next to Art in bed, leaning against his headboard because we had been watching yet another damn movie.

“No. Makes no sense.”

I chuckled. “I could use some sun. Let’s fake leaving to see if that helps. That way I can get some vitamin D and stop trying to spoon with Art.”

Art lifted a burger to his mouth. “There ain’t nothing out in that sun that beats some Art action.” He took a bite.

Preppin’ for a bite of my own burger, I shrugged. “This is very possible.”

We both started laughing at Dagger’s horrified expression. “What the fuck has been going on in here? You two all snuggly and shit!”

With Saint on his heals, Diesel came in, smiling. He seemed shocked to see his son was laughing again. “What am I missing?”

Dagger snarled. “Art switching sides.”

Diesel kept smiling, watching his son demolishing his food.