CHAPTER 7
The silence between us as we ride to the DSMC clubhouse is calm and serene. But as he slows, I know this moment is ending. Fear grips me again, but I try to shake it away.
I’ve been doing myself no good by denying what I truly want.
Could Crosby hurt me in the end? Is it possible that we won’t always have the sunset at our back and the wind skating across us as we hold each other close? Sure, but is there reward without risk?
The prospect at the gate of the clubhouse lets us in without Crosby needing to stop completely. They exchange a chin lift as we make our way into the parking lot, and he pulls his bike into a spot. Even when he shuts his bike down, neither of us makes a move to get off.
Not right away.
It seems we both want to freeze and live in this moment. It’s peace, something that feels like I haven’t known since I felt the searing pain of Anarchy’s bullet.
When Crosby covers my hands with his and gives a reassuring squeeze, I know that we can’t ignore the way life is always moving forward. It’s not like we can really ignore the party going on in the DSMC clubhouse anyway.
The music is pumping out of the converted warehouse, and I can hear laughter coming from some of Crosby’s brothers. When I shift my head slightly against his back, I don’t see anyone standing in front of the large doors with a devil’s skull burned into them which means they have to be out back.
The weather is perfect to have the fire pits going and if I know Wrenley then she’s out there with some marshmallows. Even the draw of seeing my best friend isn’t enough to make me want to move right now. It’s a strange realization after how much work I’ve put in to denying Crosby’s claim on me.
“I know, firefly,” his voice is a soothing balm on the frayed edges the emotions rioting inside of me. “We’ll ride again and the only woman who belongs on the back of my bike is you. Always you,” he whispers the last part so low that I almost don’t catch them.
But I do.
I close my eyes and adjust until my forehead is resting in the middle of his broad back as I nod in understanding and acknowledgement. My lips won’t form the words needed to tell him that he’s wrong and that I don’t belong on the back of his bike.
Because he isn’t wrong and for the first time since we spent the night together, writhing with passion written on our skin, I can’t deny it for my own sake.
Crosby gives my hands one more squeeze and then lets go, but the echo of his touch remains. As I brace my hand against his shoulder, I climb off from behind him, unsure about how to move forward with him even though I’m willing to admit that it’s what I want.
Instead of looking into his dark, fathomless eyes, I stare down at the ground. He unsnaps my helmet and places it on the seat of his bike, not caring that a woman’s helmet, with glitter, is sitting on his bike like a talisman. With his thumb and forefinger Crosby grips my chin and lifts my head. The affection swirling in his gaze when I meet his eyes has me forgetting how to breathe.
I’ve refused to acknowledge the way he looks at me, but now it seems it’s the only thing I can see.
Fuck. I’ve been an idiot.
“You, firefly,” there’s a growl in his voice that has the hairs at the nape of my neck standing at attention, “you never look down. You hold your head high. I know why you pushed me away. I could see it in your eyes,” he answers my question as my mouth drops open to ask him how he could possibly know. His fingers release my chin, and his calloused fingers slide along my jaw and hook around the back of my neck, grounding me and making me feel small and cherished at the same time. “I don’t blame you for it and we don’t owe an explanation to anyone other than ourselves.”
“You waited for me to figure it all out,” my words aren’t a question but a statement of fact.
Because I know Crosby has been waiting for me. To get over my fears and myself. And then to heal.
He nods slowly, his eyes lighting up in the last of the sunset that held us in its embrace as we rode his bike. “I’d wait forever, Sioux.” His eyes fill with pain and his voice goes gruff, “But we also know that forever isn’t guaranteed.”
I lick my lips as the memory of the way he looked down on me that day flashes in my mind. Again. It causes a shiver to slide up my spine and Crosby grounds me by giving the back of my neck a squeeze.
“No, it’s not,” I murmur the words, knowing that he’ll hear me.
He always seems to hear me. With a smirk gracing his lips, which shouldn’t make him even hotter. “I might not want to share you, especially when you’re being sweet right now,” I scoff and he chuckles softly, “but I know you want to see Wrenley.”
“I do,” I narrow my eyes again as if she’s standing in front of me and she’ll break down and tell me all her secrets because of my look.
Crosby tilts his head back and his laughter floats on the air around us. How the hell does a man laughing make me feel like fireworks are going off inside of my body? It makes no damn sense, but here we are just the same.
“I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look, Firefly,” he teases.
“See that you don’t keep secrets from me then,” I sass him right back.
He wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the double doors of the clubhouse. I ponder the devil’s skull emblem as we get closer to it. While I won’t try and pretend that the bikers of the DSMC aren’t rough, and they sure as hell will let violence rein when they need to, but I haven’t met a brother who I find scary. Quite the opposite.
I’ve felt included within their ranks right from the beginning. Those they hold close are treated like family. And the way they stand together to support their family is awe inspiring.
I wasn’t expecting the men of the DSMC the first time I came to visit Wrenley as she was hiding out from her biker stalker. Honestly, I was ready to meet more men like Anarchy, who I met the night he set his sights on my best friend. It was my suggestion to go to The Alloy Riot to have a drink and to maybe find Wrenley a hook-up for the night.
I had no idea it was a biker owned bar and I was horrified when she finally told me everything that was going on and how Anarchy wouldn’t leave her alone. While I was grateful that she found protection with the DSMC, I wasn’t expecting anything more than misogynistic posturing and men who thought women existed only for their pleasure.
I’ve never been more pleased to be wrong in my life.
The moment I walked into the clubhouse, I felt the difference in atmosphere. Seeing Wrenley taken care of is all I wanted and needed. Nothing could have prepared me for meeting Crosby that night.
It was clear he wanted me because the hunger was easy to read in his eyes, but there was something deeper there as well. Something I wanted to run from. I don’t think I want to run anymore.
When Crosby swings open one of the doors, the music, laughter, and general tomfoolery of the brothers assaults me. I find myself smiling because of it. It sounds like everyone is having fun, but, more than that, it sounds like home.
Crosby kisses my temple and I force myself to lean into it instead of recoiling. I’ve done enough running. It’s time to face what has made me so afraid.
His large hand slides down from my shoulder to the small of my back, goosebumps rising on my skin in the wake of his touch. As we enter the large common room, heads swing our way, and our closeness is not missed. By anyone.
I hear a squeal and barely have enough time to brace before the impact of Wrenley’s body against mine pushes me back a step. Crosby growls under his breath next to me and his fingers tense against my back. If it was any other man, I would doubt the ability of his one hand, really just his fingers, from stopping my fall, but I’m pretty sure my hulking man could accomplish such a feat.
“Wrenley,” there’s a gentle warning in Crosby’s voice, “be careful.”
When I glance up at him to tell him I’m fine, the look on his face has me pausing. He’s glancing between us as if he’s unsure whether he’s warning her to be careful for my sake or hers. I narrow my eyes at him much the same way I did outside while thinking about the fact that my best friend is hiding something from me.
Something is up and I have a sinking suspicion that Crosby knows what it is.
Before I can put all the pieces together, Prodigal is there, his eyes hard as he looks at Crosby. His tone is ice cold, “I know I didn’t hear you tell my old lady to be careful.”
Crosby scoffs and his eyes widen a fraction before he defends himself, “She should be careful.”
I watch as Crosby rubs the back of his neck and shoots his brother an apologetic look, something passing between them. As I have one of those damn eureka moments, I gasp.
When Crosby’s eyes swing my way and I hiss, “You know what she’s been hiding.”
The sheepish grin he gives me is answer enough. My eyes narrow to slits that are nearly imperceptible and he holds his hands up in surrender. “How about you ladies go grab seats? I’ll tag a prospect to bring us something to drink.”
“Yeah,” I warn, “you should run away with your tail tucked between your legs.” My voice is threatening, “You kept your mouth shut even when I told you I knew she was hiding something from me.”
Wrenley’s laughter has me turning my glare toward her. Prodigal tenses, but he, wisely, doesn’t say anything. Her tone is placating, “I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”
I throw my hands in the air, my voice incredulous, “So you are hiding something from me.”
Crosby hooks his arm around my waist and tucks me into his side. I open my mouth to tell him off, or something, but it snaps closed when he presses a tender kiss to my temple. Wrenley’s eyes go from curious to fucking sparkling as she looks between us like we’re a US Open tennis match.
When I don’t push him away or step out of his embrace, questions start to swirl in my best friend’s eyes. She’s tried to talk me into accepting Crosby’s claim on me since before I was shot. I get it, she wanted her bestie next to her in the old lady club. While she could understand where I was coming from with not wanting to get hurt, she was also adamant that Crosby was being transparent with me in terms of what he wanted from me.
At the party the night before the Poker Run, when everything went to shit, she clinked her drink against mine and then nodded over to where one of the club angels was approaching Crosby as he and Prodigal leaned against the bar, both of their gazes fixed on the two of us. It was hard keeping my facial expression in a neutral mask, but I was determined not to see how much a woman hitting on him bothered me.
I could admit to myself that Connie, whose name I had learned—along with all the club angels since I didn’t want to be struck unaware, and Wrenley was more than happy to fill me in—at the first party I attended at the club house, was beautiful. Sure, she was dressed scantily without a hint of shame, but I wasn’t going to judge someone for their life choices when all they were giving away was sex. Wrenley explained the whole angel situation to me, and it was clear, to me at least, that they gained just as much as they gave.
Now, admittedly, my opinion was colored by not having any real skin in the game. Not at first, at least. Wrenley gave me the run down before I had locked eyes with Crosby across the common room.
The bad seed club angel, Brandi, had already been kicked out before I was allowed to come to a club party. The only reason I didn’t pitch a fucking fit at being denied access to my best friend was because I knew it was because she was being kept safe. What’s safter than almost complete lock down on a biker compound?
When I did meet Brandi, I had already heard all about the shit she tried to pull and the way she was kicked to the curb. Seeing her standing next to the man who was stalking my best friend as he held a gun in his hand, it was clear to see that she was unhinged. Anarchy killing her was kind of fitting, though it could have happened without getting shot myself.
But I digress.
When Connie put her hand on Crosby’s arm the night before my entire life changed, I felt victorious when he flinched away. I wasn’t close enough to hear what he said to her, but I could tell he was speaking to her as she paled and scurried away.
The sexiest thing about watching the interaction? He was looking at me the entire fucking time. It was a damn good thing I was sitting down because if I wasn’t I would have been swooning all over the damn place.
Wrenley’s voice was smug as she leaned into my space and whispered, “Now, try and tell me that wasn’t hot as hell and that there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”
Well, at least she tried to whisper. Since she had a few drinks in her, she wasn’t great at volume modulation, to say the least, but at least she didn’t go full bullhorn with her words.
Small favors, you know?
Just to try and hammer my point home, I tore my gaze away from Crosby and gave her the most dramatic eyeroll I could muster. “You just want to pull me into your strange old lady cult,” I teased her. She smirked at me, and I could tell she was gearing up for some sort of argument, but I wasn’t in the mood for it at all. I shook my head, my voice taking on a needy quality, “Let it go. At least for tonight.”
The sigh she let out was tortured, but she agreed, and we spent the rest of the night having fun in a way that only best friends can achieve.
And then we all know what went down at the Poker Run the next day.
Wrenley hasn’t really brought up what is going on with Crosby and me. I was thankful since we’ve had enough going on without going down that road. But now I get the feeling that she’s not going to let it go any longer.
That’s okay because I also have some shit to get to the bottom of in regard to my best friend.
“I would like something fruity, please,” I put on my best sweet voice as I glance up at Crosby, the way he smirks down at me telling me that he sees right through me. For some strange reasons, I don’t mind. I lean into his side a little before I step out of his hold and grab Wrenley’s hand. With a wave of my hand toward some of the tables, a few of which are unoccupied, I declare, “Lead the way. Secrets are afoot!”
Wrenley giggles, but instead of leading me to the tables, she pulls me toward a couch on the other side of the room. Thankfully, none of the brothers or angels are occupying the space. Yeah, I’ve seen these couches be defiled at more than one party here.
And I’ve seen far more of some of Crosby’s brothers, and the angels, than I ever wanted to see. I just accepted it as part of being included in this family. Still, if I could erase those memories then I would be damn happy about it.
“Please tell me these couches are disinfected after every party,” I whisper out of the side of my mouth.
Wrenley cackles out a laugh. When I don’t join her, she glances my way and sobers pretty quickly. Was I kind of joking? Sure. Was I also very serious? Yes.
“Do you think Cherise would insist on anything less?” It’s not a direct answer, but it’s good enough for me.
“Fair point,” I concede.
Having met Cherise, the queen of the old ladies as Lucifer’s woman, she also happens to be Wrenley’s mother-in-law. She’s an amazing woman and, honestly, I kind of want to be her when I grow up. She doesn’t take shit, but she’s also one of the nicest women I’ve ever met.
My ass is barely settled against the couch before my best friend metaphorically pounces on me. “What is going on with you and Apostle? You two looked very cozy. Normally you would be running away from him like your ass is on fire.” Her lips tip down in a frown and her eyebrows furrow together. “At least, that’s how it was before.”
“He was waiting for me to heal, apparently,” I admit, the sweetness of his actions and concern for me hitting me like a damn semi.
“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Wrenley’s voice is thick with emotion.
When I look over at my best friend, she has tears in her eyes, and it makes my hackles rise. She’s in touch with her emotions and everything, but she should not be almost crying because Crosby has been waiting for me to heal.
I don’t think.
“Okay, Mrs. Emotional, what is going on with you?”
The smile she gives me is radiant and everything makes perfect sense when she leans into me and whispers in my ear, “I’m pregnant.”