Chapter 23 #2
“I know.” I press my fingers against my eyes for one second. “I know that. I keep telling myself that. No one was hurt. That’s what matters. Liam is safe. Cruz is safe. Prissy slept through most of it, because apparently, she’s either extremely brave, chill, or lazy.”
“She looks like a combination of all three,” Ella says.
Prissy purrs like she agrees.
The little joke loosens something in me. Not enough to make everything fine. Nothing is fine. But it’s enough to let me breathe. “I keep asking myself if this is what it’s always like,” I admit.
The three women go still, but not in an offended way. More like they expected the question.
“With the club,” I add, because I need to be clear. “Is this what I should expect? Broken windows? Threats? Men having meetings about gangs while everyone waits to find out if they’re safe? Is this what being with Cruz means?”
There it is.
The thing I’m most ashamed of thinking.
I stare down at Prissy because it’s easier than looking at them. “I care about him. A lot. More than I thought I could care about anyone. But I have Liam to think about. I have a business. I have a life. And I’m sitting here wondering if loving Cruz means I’m choosing danger.”
No one answers immediately. That’s good. I think I would hate it if they rushed to smooth it over. Lark is the one who speaks first, her voice is soft but certain. “No. It’s not always like this.”
Ella nods. “The club doesn’t go looking for enemies as a rule.”
Willa huffs. “Not anymore, anyway.”
Lark gives her a look, and Willa lifts both hands.
“I’m being honest.”
“She is,” Ella says. “The way of life can attract trouble. Some people see the patches and assume things. Some people have old grudges. Case in point, mine and Tyrant’s father.”
She must notice my raised eyebrows because she adds. “That’s probably a story for another day. Family feuds aside, some people want to test boundaries because they think bikers are either easy targets or easy villains. But Tyrant isn’t reckless. Raiden isn’t either.”
“Tyrant leads through negotiation when he can,” Lark says. “Resolution. He thinks before he acts. Sometimes too much, if you ask certain people, but I happen to love that about him. He isn’t power hungry. He doesn’t need to prove he’s the biggest man in the room.”
That sounds like what I’ve heard about Satan’s Angels’ president.
“He’ll do what’s best for the club,” Lark continues. “And for everyone connected to it. That includes you.”
I swallow hard. “I’m connected?”
All three women look at me again, and this time their smiles are softer.
“You arrived connected,” Ella says simply.
My face heats. “Because of Liam,” I say, even though I know that’s not all she means.
“Because of Liam,” Lark agrees kindly. “And because Cruz speaks about you like someone handed him the sun and told him he was allowed to keep it.”
My chest squeezes so hard that I have to look away.
“He’s…” I trail off, because where do I even start with Cruz? “He’s not what I expected.”
Willa grins. “None of them are, if you get past the leather and the scowling.”
That causes a few chuckles, and for a few seconds, we’re just women in a room, talking about life while a cat purrs and the men do whatever men do when they’re trying to prevent a war.
It helps more than I want to admit.
“What was it like for you?” I ask. “Becoming part of this?”
Lark tilts her head, considering. “Terrifying. Beautiful. Complicated.”
“That’s honest.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you. I’ll tell you mine and Tyrant’s story some day when we aren’t all on edge.”
Ella sits beside Willa on the bed. “We’re a family.
I know Tyrant is my half-brother, and Lark my sister-in-law, but the club is family.
Family can be a lot. Everyone knows everyone’s business.
Everyone has opinions, and there might be disagreements.
But when something happens, you’re not alone.
Ever. Not unless you want to be, and even then, someone will probably hover in the hallway pretending they’re not hovering. ”
“Cruz does that.”
“Of course he does,” Willa says. “He’s basically a security system with biceps.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “That is painfully accurate.”
Lark looks around Cruz’s spartan room. “He let you in here.”
“I’m not sure he had a choice. We brought the cat.”
“He had a choice,” she says. “Cruz always has a choice. He chose you before tonight, though. Everyone can see it.”
I don’t know what to do with that. It scares me and warms me at the same time. “He doesn’t have much in here,” I say, needing to shift the focus. “It looks like he’s ready to leave at any second.”
“He probably was for a long time,” Ella says gently.
The thought makes my throat ache.
“Maybe not anymore,” Willa adds.
I think about Cruz gathering clothes for me while glass lay broken downstairs. The way he kissed away my tears but didn’t let the kiss become more than comfort. The way he held my hand until he couldn’t. The way he gave me space and safety, both at once.
Can I walk away from that because I’m afraid? I think I already know the answer.
The door opens a crack, and Liam peeks in. “Mom?”
All three women turn. Prissy lifts her head again, then immediately relaxes when she sees him.
“I’m okay,” I say.
His eyes flick over the women, then me. “Good. Uh. I found litter. Someone had some. Don’t ask me who. Also, there’s a litter box coming.”
“Thank you.”
He nods, lingering like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how with an audience.
Lark gives him a soft smile. “We’ll step out in a minute if you want some time with your mom.”
“No, it’s okay.” Liam looks awkward, young and grown all at once. “I’m glad you’re here with her.”
My heart does that painful mother thing where it swells and cracks in the same beat. “I’m okay,” I tell him again.
He nods, but I know he doesn’t entirely believe me. That’s fine. I don’t entirely believe me either. When he leaves, the room feels different.
“He loves you a lot,” Ella says.
“I know.”
“He’ll find his place,” Lark says. “They all do, if it’s meant for them.”
I think about Liam’s face when he talks about the garage. About Wizard’s office. About the guys. About the room he’s slowly making his own. “I think he already is.”
“Then maybe you can too,” Willa says.
I look at her.
She shrugs. “Not saying you have to. Just saying maybe.”
Prissy pushes her head under my palm again, demanding more attention.
Maybe. The word is not certainty. It’s not safety. It’s not a guarantee that everything will be fine. But it’s not no. But maybe tonight it’s enough.