Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Tor
The warm glow of the overhead lights catches in Meghan’s ashy blonde hair, making it shimmer like spun gold.
My heart races, pounding against my ribcage as if trying to break free.
She's finally here, back where she belongs.
The guys erupt in cheers, their voices echoing off the exposed brick walls. "Welcome home, Meghan!" they shout in unison, raising their beers high.
Meghan's hand flies to her chest, and she starts breathing heavily.
I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her athletic curves accentuated by the tight black tank top she's wearing.
Without hesitation, I throw my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to my side.
"What, did they scare you?" I tease, my voice low and warm next to her ear.
The scent of her lavender shampoo fills my nostrils, and I have to resist the urge to bury my face in her hair.
She laughs, a sound that sends tingles down my spine, and nods.
As I look down at her, I notice tears starting to spill from the corners of her eyes.
My protective instincts kick in immediately, and I use my free hand to gently wipe away the moisture from her cheeks.
"Hey, hey," I murmur, turning her to face me fully. "What's wrong, Meg?"
She shakes her head, a watery smile playing on her lips. "Nothing's wrong, Tor. I just... I didn't expect this. It's overwhelming."
I cup her face in my hands, my calloused thumbs stroking her soft skin. "Listen to me, Meghan. We all love you. Every single person in this room is glad you're back. You hear me?"
Her eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, I'm lost in their depths.
I remember all those nights in the hospital, when those same eyes were my anchor in a sea of pain and uncertainty.
Now, seeing them filled with tears of joy instead of fear or worry, makes my chest tighten with emotion.
"I hear you," she whispers, her hands coming up to rest on my forearms. "Thank you, Tor. For everything."
I want to tell her that she doesn't need to thank me, that I'd do anything for her.
But the words get stuck in my throat.
Instead, I pull her into a tight hug, feeling her body mold against mine perfectly.
As I hold her, I can't help but think about how close we came to losing her.
The image of Meghan lying unconscious in that hospital bed, her head bandaged and her skin pale, still haunts my dreams.
But now she's here, warm and alive in my arms, and I silently vow to never let anything hurt her again.
"All right, all right," I say, reluctantly pulling away from the embrace. "Enough of this sappy shit. Let's get you a drink, yeah?"
Meghan laughs again, the sound music to my ears. "God, yes. I've been dreaming about a cold beer for weeks."
I guide her toward the bar, my hand resting on the small of her back.
The guys part like the Red Sea, all of them eager to greet Meghan but respectful enough to give her some space.
I can feel their eyes on us, and I know they're picking up on the change in our dynamic.
Hell, I'm still trying to figure it out myself.
As we reach the bar, I catch sight of our reflection in the mirror behind the bottles.
Meghan's leaning into me slightly, her body angled toward mine even as she talks to Ivar, who's already pulling her a draft.
I look... different. Softer, somehow. The ever-present crease between my brows is smoothed out, and there's a light in my eyes that I haven't seen in years.
"Here you go, darlin'," Ivar says, sliding a frosty mug across the bar to Meghan. "Welcome back."
Meghan's face lights up as she takes the beer. "Thanks, Ivar. God, I've missed this place."
I watch as she takes her first sip, her eyes closing in bliss.
A drop of condensation rolls down the side of the glass, over her fingers, and I have to clench my fist to keep from reaching out and wiping it away.
"So," I say, leaning against the bar and angling my body toward her. "How does it feel to be back in the land of the living?"
Meghan sets her beer down and turns to face me fully. "Honestly? It's surreal. Part of me still feels like I'm going to wake up in that hospital bed at any moment."
I reach out and squeeze her arm gently. "Trust me, you're not dreaming. This is real, Meg. You're really here."
She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. "I know. And I'm glad. I just... I guess I'm still trying to process everything, you know?"
I nod, understanding all too well. "Yeah, I get it. It's a lot to take in. But hey, you've got time. No one's expecting you to jump right back into everything."
Meghan bites her lower lip, a gesture I've come to recognize as a sign of her nervousness. "What if... what if I can't do it, Tor? What if I can't handle being back here?"
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.
The thought of Meghan leaving, of not seeing her every day, makes my chest ache.
But I push those feelings aside, focusing on what she needs right now.
"Listen to me," I say, my voice low and intense. "You are the strongest person I know, Meg. You survived a fucking coma. You can handle anything. And if it gets too much, I'm here. We're all here for you. You're not alone in this, okay?"
She looks at me for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Okay. Thank you, Tor. I don't know what I'd do without you."
The sincerity in her voice makes my heart skip a beat.
I want to tell her that she'll never have to find out, that I'll always be here for her.
But before I can say anything, Magnus’ booming voice cuts through the chatter of the clubhouse.
"All right, you lazy bastards! Let's get this party started properly. Who's up for some pool?"
The guys cheer, and soon the sound of clacking pool balls fills the air.
Meghan laughs, the tension leaving her shoulders.
"Some things never change, huh?" she says, a fond smile on her face as she watches the guys crowd around the pool tables.
I grin, glad to see her relaxing. "Nope. You want in on the action? I seem to remember you being pretty handy with a cue stick."
Meghan's eyes light up with a competitive gleam. "Oh, you're on, big guy. Prepare to have your ass handed to you."
As we make our way to the pool tables, I can't help but marvel at how quickly Meghan seems to be settling back in.
The nervousness from earlier is still there, I can see it in the slight tension in her shoulders, but she's pushing through it.
That's the Meghan I know and.
.. care for.
The fighter.
The survivor.
We grab cues and set up for a game, the familiar routine feeling comforting after everything we've been through.
As Meghan leans over the table to take her first shot, her tank top riding up slightly to reveal a strip of smooth skin, I find myself hoping that some things do change.
Because the way I feel when I look at her now?
That's definitely different.
And I'm starting to think that might not be such a bad thing after all.
As Meghan lines up her shot, a blur of motion catches my eye. Starla, Ivar's ol' lady and Meghan's best friend, comes rushing up, her face lit with excitement.
"Meghan!" Starla squeals, throwing her arms around Meghan and nearly knocking her off balance.
"I'm so glad you're back home!"
I watch as Meghan returns the hug, a smile on her face.
But the moment Starla says "home," I notice a flicker of something in Meghan's eyes.
A sadness, maybe even a hint of doubt.
It's gone in an instant, but it leaves me unsettled.
Starla pulls back, grinning from ear to ear.
"We need to go get a drink and catch up. Come on!"
Before Meghan can protest, Starla's tugging her toward the bar.
Meghan glances back at me, a mix of apology and amusement in her eyes.
I give her a reassuring nod and smile as she's whisked away.
"Son."
I turn to find my father, Runes, standing beside me, a beer in each hand.
He offers one to me with a nod of his head.
"Let's talk."
We make our way to a quieter spot along the wall, away from the rowdy crowd.
I lean against the exposed brick, the coolness seeping through my cut as I take a long pull from my beer.
Runes studies me for a moment, his eyes sharp beneath his graying brows. "I've never seen you like this with a woman before, Tor."
I furrow my brow, feigning ignorance.
"Like what?"
He gestures vaguely with his beer.
"So... attentive. Protective. Almost loving."
The word makes my chest tighten.
I take another swig of beer to buy myself time.
"We bonded a lot in the hospital," I finally say, keeping my voice neutral.
"She kept me sane when I was stuck in that bed and couldn't move around much."
Runes nods slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. "Is there something going on between you two?"
I shake my head, perhaps a bit too quickly. "No. We're just friends."
The words feel hollow even as I say them.
I think about Meghan's smile, the way her eyes light up when she laughs.
The softness of her skin when I wiped away her tears earlier.
Runes raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You sure about that?"
I open my mouth to respond, but find myself at a loss for words.
Am I sure?
The way my heart races when she's near, the constant urge to protect her, to make her smile.
.. it's more than just friendship, isn't it?
"I don't know, Dad," I finally admit, my voice low. "I don't know what this is."
Runes leans in closer, his voice dropping to match mine.
"Let me ask you this, son. Do you want there to be something more between you and Meghan?"
I take a long pull from my beer, the cool liquid a stark contrast to the heat rising in my chest.
The question hangs in the air.
I think about Meghan's laugh, the way her eyes sparkle when she's excited, how safe I felt with her by my side in the hospital.
"I wouldn't be mad if something happened," I finally admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
It's the most honest I've been with myself, let alone anyone else, about my feelings for Meghan.
My father nods, a knowing look in his eyes. "Look, you're young," he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
"But I'd be lyin' if I said you don't have some sort of connection with that girl. It's clear as day to anyone who sees you two together."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Have I been that obvious?
I run a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling exposed.
"I don't know what to do with that, Dad," I confess.
Before Runes can respond, Fenrir's voice cuts through the noise of the party. "Yo, Prez! Need you over here for a sec!"
My father gives me a long look. "Think about it, son. Life's too short to waste opportunities."
With a final pat on my back, he heads off to see what Fenrir wants.
I lean back against the wall, my mind reeling.
The cool brick against my back grounds me as I try to process everything.
My eyes drift across the room, inevitably finding Meghan in the crowd.
She's laughing at something Starla said, her head thrown back, exposing the graceful line of her neck.
I've always been attracted to her, that much I can't deny.
But it's more than just physical.
I think about how she kept me sane during those long days in the hospital, how she seems to understand me in a way no one else does.
My father's words echo in my head.
A connection.
Yeah, that's one way to put it.
But what do I do about it?
The thought of potentially ruining our friendship terrifies me.
And yet, the idea of never exploring what could be between us... that scares me even more.
I down the rest of my beer, wishing it was something stronger.
As I watch Meghan move through the crowd, I realize I've got some serious thinking to do.
Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain: things between Meghan and me will never be the same.
The party's in full swing before I know it, the energy in the clubhouse electric.
I push off from the wall, surveying the scene.
Some of the guys are getting pretty rowdy, their laughter booming over the music.
I spot Fenrir and a couple others crowded around the pool table, beers in hand, cues wobbling as they line up their shots.
"Fuck!" Fenrir yells as he scratches. "This table's rigged, I swear it."
I shake my head, grinning.
Same old shit, different night.
My eyes drift to the door as I notice some of the old ladies heading out.
Magnolia gives me a little wave as she leaves, followed by Skadi, Aziza, Fern, Gwen, and Charm.
Can't blame them for wanting to escape the chaos.
Through the thinning crowd, I spot Meghan and Starla huddled together by the bar.
They're deep in conversation, drinks in hand.
As I watch, Starla throws back the rest of her whiskey, swaying slightly.
"I need to go see my man," she slurs, patting Meghan's arm before stumbling off towards Ivar.
Meghan's left alone, looking a little lost.
Before I can think twice, my feet are moving, carrying me toward her.
Our eyes lock, and I feel a spark of electricity run through me.
I try to keep my expression neutral, but I can feel the heat in my gaze.
As I approach, she gives me a small smile. "Hey, Tor. Some party, huh?"
I lean against the bar next to her, close enough that I can smell her perfume. "Yeah, it's something all right. You holding up okay?"
She nods, taking a sip of her drink. "I'm good. It's... a lot, you know? Being back here after everything."
I feel a pang in my chest, remembering what she's been through. "I can imagine. If it gets to be too much, just say the word. I'll get you out of here."
Meghan looks up at me, her sage green eyes searching mine. "Thanks. I appreciate that."
We fall into easy conversation, talking about nothing and everything.
I find myself leaning in closer, drawn to her like a magnet.
She laughs at something I say, and I feel a rush of pride.
"You know," I say, my voice low, "I'm really glad you're back, Meg. It wasn't the same without you around."
She bites her lip, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I'm glad to be back too. I missed... this. The club. Everyone."
There's a pause, and I swear I can feel the air between us shift.
Our eyes meet again, and suddenly, I know.
This is it.
"Fuck this," I growl, unable to hold back any longer.
My hand slides to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her soft hair as I pull her to me.
Our lips crash together, and it's like a dam breaking.
The kiss is passionate, desperate, filled with all the longing and tension that's been building between us.
I can feel things shifting, transforming, and I welcome it.
This is what I want.
It’s what I fucking need.
Meghan responds with equal fervor, her lips moving against mine like she's starving for it.
Her hands grip my shirt, pulling me closer.
The taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against mine—it's intoxicating.
I lose track of time, lost in the heat of the moment.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing heavily.
I rest my forehead against hers, not willing to let go just yet.
"Tor," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. She pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. "Do you really want to do this?"
I meet her gaze, seeing the mixture of desire and uncertainty there.
My heart pounds in my chest as I nod.
"This is all I want to do," I say, my voice low and rough with emotion.
Without another word, I take her hand and lead her towards the stairs.
The party continues around us, but I barely notice.
All I can focus on is Meghan, the feel of her hand in mine, the electricity crackling between us.
As soon as we reach the top of the stairs, I can't hold back anymore.
I pull her to me again, kissing her deeply as my hands start to roam.
I peel off her jacket, letting it fall to the floor.
We stumble down the hallway, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in our wake.
We reach my room, and I fumble with the doorknob, unwilling to break our kiss.
Finally, I manage to get it open, and we stumble inside.
I kick the door shut behind us, reaching back to lock it without looking.
Meghan's hands are at my belt now, her fingers trembling slightly as she works to undo it.
I pull back for a moment, cupping her face in my hands.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask, giving her one last chance to back out.
She nods, her eyes dark with desire. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
I can't contain the primal growl that escapes me as I crash my lips against hers again.
My hands roam her curves, memorizing every dip and swell of her body.
I've wanted this for so long, dreamed about it during those long nights in the hospital.
Now that it's finally happening, it's almost too much to process.
I lift Meghan up, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bed.
I lay her down, drinking in the sight of her.
Her ashy blonde hair is spread out on my pillow, her sage green eyes dark with desire.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Tor," she whispers, reaching for me. "I need you."
Those words ignite something primal in me.
I cover her body with mine, kissing a trail down her neck.
My hands explore every inch of her, relishing in the soft sighs and moans I draw from her.
"God, Meghan," I groan against her skin. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."
She arches into me, her nails raking down my back. "Show me," she demands.
I don't need to be told twice.
I enter her in one swift motion, both of us crying out at the sensation.
For a moment, I'm overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside her, of finally being connected in this way.
"Are you okay?" I ask, searching her face for any sign of discomfort.
She nods, pulling me down for a searing kiss. "Don't hold back," she whispers against my lips.
Those words unleash something in me.
I begin to move, setting a relentless pace.
It's rough and intense, almost animalistic in its urgency.
But underneath it all is a tenderness, a connection that goes beyond the physical.
"Fuck, Meghan," I pant, feeling myself getting close. "I'm not gonna last much longer."
She wraps her legs tighter around me, urging me on. "It's okay," she gasps. "I'm close too. Don't stop."
I increase my pace, driving us both toward the edge.
When she comes, crying out my name, it's enough to send me over too.
I bury my face in her neck as I finish, my entire body shuddering with the intensity of it.
As we lay there afterward, both of us breathing heavily, I can't help but feel like everything has changed.
And for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of what that might mean.