Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Meghan
The wine glass trembles in my hand as I bring it to my lips, the rich burgundy liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
I take a sip, hoping the alcohol will calm my nerves, but the knot in my stomach only tightens.
The familiar scent of leather and whiskey permeates the air of the clubhouse, a smell that used to bring me comfort but now makes my skin crawl.
I even saw Gwen in here earlier trying to freshen up the place, but there’s no amount of cleaner or candles that’ll make the clubhouse smell like an actual house.
"You okay, Meghan?" Starla asks, her brow furrowed with concern.
"You look a little pale."
I force a smile, setting my glass down on the intricately carved bar.
"I'm fine, just a bit tired."
Starla doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push it.
That's what I love about her—she knows when to back off.
I glance around the room, taking in the faces of the other women gathered for this impromptu "girls' night."
Fern, Charm, Gwen, Magnolia, and Vail are all here, chatting and laughing as if nothing's changed.
Aziza's making a last minute catering order so she can't be here, and Skadi had some sort of job that took her out of town.
I just don't understand how the ladies can laugh, asif I hadn't been attacked in this very building just a few weeks ago.
"This was a great idea, Starla," Gwen says, raising her glass in a toast. "We needed a night to ourselves, away from all the testosterone."
The others laugh and clink their glasses together.
I join in halfheartedly, my mind wandering to the real reason we're here.
Starla organized this whole thing because I told her I don't feel at home in the clubhouse anymore.
She's trying to make me comfortable, to show me I'm safe here.
But how can I feel safe when every shadow makes me jump, every unexpected noise sends my heart racing?
"Earth to Meghan," Magnolia says, waving a hand in front of my face. "Where'd you go, girl?"
I blink, realizing I've zoned out again. "Sorry, just lost in thought."
"Well, snap out of it," Magnolia teases. "This is supposed to be fun, remember?"
I nod, trying to focus on the conversation.
They're discussing the latest club gossip, but I can't bring myself to care about who's sleeping with whom or which prospect is likely to get patched in next.
My eyes keep drifting to the exit, calculating how quickly I could reach it if I needed to.
"Hey," Starla says softly, touching my arm. "You sure you're okay?"
I turn to her, seeing the worry etched on her face.
For a moment, I consider telling her everything.
How I wake up screaming every night, how I can't stand to be in this place that was once my sanctuary, how I'm not sure I can stay here anymore.
But the words catch in my throat.
"I'm just... adjusting," I say finally. "It's weird being back here after... everything."
Starla nods, understanding in her eyes. "I know it's hard, but you're safe now. We won't let anything happen to you again."
I want to believe her, I really do.
But the memory of hands grabbing me, of pain and fear and helplessness, is still too fresh.
I take another sip of wine, wishing it was something stronger.
"So, Meghan," Vail says, leaning across the table. "What's the deal with you and Tor? I saw you on the back of his bike the other day."
I feel my cheeks flush, both from the wine and the mention of Tor's name. "I'm not sure what we are," I admit. "It's... complicated."
"Complicated how?" Fern asks, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
I shrug, struggling to put my feelings into words. "We're... something. I'm just not sure what that something is yet."
"But you like him?" Charm presses.
"Yeah," I say softly, surprised by how much I mean it. "I do."
The conversation shifts to other topics, but my mind stays on Tor.
He's been a constant presence since I got out of the hospital, always there when I need him.
His quiet strength and unwavering support have been a lifeline in the chaos of my recovery.
But can I really build a future with him in this world that's caused me so much pain?
As the night wears on, I find myself relaxing slightly.
The wine loosens my tongue, and I even manage to laugh at a few of Magnolia's outrageous stories.
But there's still a part of me that can't fully let go, that has me looking over my shoulder.
"You know," Starla says during a lull in the conversation, "I was thinking we could make this a regular thing. Maybe once a month?"
The others nod enthusiastically, but I feel a surge of panic.
Once a month?
In the clubhouse?
I'm not sure I can handle that.
"That sounds great," I lie, my voice strained. "But maybe we could switch it up sometimes? Like, go out to a bar or something?"
Starla gives me a knowing look. "Sure, we could do that. Mix it up a bit."
I nod gratefully, relieved that she's not pushing the issue.
But I can see the concern in her eyes, the questions she's not asking.
How long can I keep pretending everything's okay?
As if sensing my discomfort, Gwen changes the subject. "So, ladies, any exciting plans for the weekend?"
The conversation flows around me, but I find myself withdrawing again.
My eyes drift to the door that leads to kirkja , where so many club decisions are made.
Decisions that affect all our lives, often in ways we can't predict or control.
I think about my life before the MC, before I got tangled up in this world of violence and loyalty and twisted family bonds.
Part of me longs for that simplicity again, for a life where I don't have to constantly look over my shoulder.
But another part of me knows I can never go back.
This world, for better or worse, is a part of me now.
"Meghan?" Starla's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You with us?"
I blink, realizing everyone's looking at me expectantly. "Sorry, what?"
"We were just talking about maybe planning a girls' trip," Fern explains. "What do you think?"
A girls' trip.
Away from the clubhouse, away from the constant reminders of what happened.
It sounds like heaven. "That sounds amazing," I say, genuine enthusiasm in my voice for the first time all night.
As they start throwing out ideas for destinations, I feel a small spark of hope.
Maybe this is what I need—a chance to get away, clear my head, and figure out what I really want.
But even as I join in the planning, a part of me knows it's just a temporary fix.
Eventually, I'll have to face the hard truths I've been avoiding.
Can I really stay here, in this life that's brought me both love and pain in equal measure?
Can I learn to feel safe in this place again, or will I always be looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next threat?
And what about Tor?
Would I be okay giving him up to start fresh somewhere else?
As the night winds down and the other women start to head out, Starla pulls me aside.
"Hey," she says softly. "I know this wasn't easy for you. Thanks for coming."
I give her a small smile. "Thanks for organizing it. I know you're just trying to help."
She squeezes my arm gently. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? If you're struggling, or if you need... anything. I'm here."
For a moment, I consider spilling everything—my fears, my doubts, my growing certainty that I can't stay here much longer.
But I look into her worried eyes and I can't bring myself to burden her with my problems.
Not yet.
"I know," I say instead. "And I appreciate it. I'm just... taking it one day at a time, you know?"
Starla nods, but I can see she's not entirely convinced.
As I watch her walk away, I feel a pang of guilt for keeping so much from her.
But how can I explain something I don't even understand myself?
I linger in the clubhouse after everyone else has left, nursing the last of my wine.
The familiar sounds and smells surround me, but instead of comfort, they bring a sense of unease.
This place that was once my home now feels like a gilded cage, beautiful but suffocating.
As I set my empty glass on the bar, my eyes are drawn to the massive logo painted on the far wall.
Do I stay or go?
Do I fight or flee?
The decision weighs heavily on me, a choice I know I'll have to make sooner rather than later.
With a heavy sigh, I push away from the bar and head toward my room.
Tomorrow is another day, another chance to pretend everything's okay.
But as I walk down the hallway, my footsteps echoing in the empty space, I can't shake the feeling that my time here is running out.
Something has to give, and soon.
I swirl the wine in my glass, watching the deep red liquid cling to the sides.
It’s like I’m trying to fit into an old pair of jeans that don't quite button anymore.
My eyes drift across the room, taking in the familiar faces.
That's when I notice something odd.
Fern and Charm, usually the life of any party, aren't drinking.
Their hands are empty.
"Hey," I call out, raising my glass slightly. "You two want a drink?"
They both shake their heads, exchanging a quick glance that piques my curiosity.
Gwen, ever the observant one, pipes up from her spot on the leather couch.
"What's the deal? You two pregnant or something?" She laughs, but then her eyes narrow. "Or is this some kind of solidarity thing I don't know about?"
I lean forward, intrigued.
The tension in the air shifts, becoming charged with a secret on the verge of spilling out.
Fern clears her throat, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Well, actually... Charm has agreed to be my surrogate. Runes and I are trying to have a child."
The room erupts in excited gasps and congratulations.
I feel a genuine smile tugging at my lips for the first time tonight.
This is big news.
Magnolia, never one to miss a beat, quips, "Damn, Charm. You must really love being pregnant!"
Charm throws her head back and laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Oh hell no! This is the LAST time I'm doing this, I swear." She reaches over and squeezes Fern's hand. "But I'd do it again in a heartbeat for my best friend. Fern and Runes deserve something precious."
Fern's eyes are shining with unshed tears. "I can't even begin to express how grateful I am," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "What Charm is doing for us... it's beyond words."
I take a sip of my wine, letting the warmth of their friendship wash over me.
It's moments like these that remind me why the club feels like family, even when I'm struggling to find my place.
Gwen shifts in her seat, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, who knows? Maybe Charm will be pregnant at the same time as me."
The room goes silent for a beat, then erupts again.
"Wait," I say, leaning forward. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Gwen's grin widens. "Yep. Rati and I are expecting another baby."
The excitement in the room doubles, everyone talking over each other to offer congratulations and ask questions.
I join in, genuinely happy for my friends, but there's a small part of me that feels... separate.
Like I'm watching their joy from behind a glass wall.
As the chatter continues around me, I can't help but wonder: will I ever have something like this? A family, a future that feels certain and bright? Or am I destined to always be on the outside, looking in?
I push the thought away, focusing instead on the warmth of the moment.
But the question lingers, a shadow at the edges of my mind that I can't quite shake.
Magnolia's voice cuts through the excited chatter. "So, Gwen, do you want a girl or a boy this time?"
I watch as Gwen's hand unconsciously rests on her still-flat stomach. "Honestly, I don't care either way. A healthy baby is all that matters to me." She pauses, a wry smile playing on her lips.
"But Rati? He's got his heart set on a boy this time."
I can't help but chuckle, imagining the tough biker secretly hoping for a mini-me to teach the ways of the club.
The conversation naturally shifts, and Magnolia turns her attention to Fern. "What about you guys? Are you selecting the gender via IVF, or how are you doing it?"
Fern's eyes light up, and I feel a pang in my chest at the pure hope radiating from her. "We're actually leaving it up to chance," she says, her voice soft but full of excitement.
"But if I'm being honest, we'd love to have a girl." She glances at Charm, their shared look speaking volumes.
"Or potentially two. Charm has agreed to carry twins for us, if we want it."
The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of Charm's offer hanging in the air.
I'm stunned by the depth of friendship between these two women, the selflessness of Charm's gesture.
Vail, usually so stoic, breaks the silence. "Damn, Charm," she says, her voice gruff but filled with admiration. "Carrying twins? That's... that's something else."
Charm shrugs, but I can see the emotion in her eyes. "I'd do anything to help Fern and Runes grow their family," she says simply, as if offering to carry not one but potentially two babies for her best friend is no big deal.
Fern's eyes well up with tears, and I feel my own throat tighten in response. "This is why we're best friends," she manages to say, reaching out to grasp Charm's hand. "You're so selfless, so giving. I don't know how I'll ever repay you for this gift."
As I watch them, I'm struck by the strength of their bond, the depth of love between these women.
It's beautiful and overwhelming all at once, and I find myself both in awe of their connection and aching for something similar in my own life.
The conversation continues around me, but I'm lost in thought, wondering about the nature of friendship, of family, and where I fit into it all.
The clubhouse buzzes with warmth and laughter, and for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything could be fine here after all.
Rayna's voice cuts through my thoughts, her tone teasing but curious. "So, back to the juicy stuff, Meghan," she says, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. "What’s keeping you and Tor from being official?"
I feel heat rise to my cheeks, caught off guard by the sudden shift in attention.
The other women turn to look at me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and encouragement.
I take a sip of wine, buying myself a moment to gather my thoughts.
"It’s just complicated," I finally say, my voice soft but steady. "But we're... something. And I'm not mad about it."
I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips, thinking of Tor's strong arms around me, the safety I feel when I'm with him.
"But?" Starla prompts, one eyebrow raised as she picks up on the hesitation in my voice.
I sigh, running a hand through my ashy blonde hair. "But I don't know how long it will last," I admit, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
Starla cocks her eyebrow higher, her gaze piercing. "What do you mean by that?"
I look down at my glass, swirling the wine gently as I try to find the right words. "Being back at the clubhouse is just... a lot," I say slowly, careful not to reveal too much. "Ever since I was attacked, it's been hard to feel safe here."
The room grows quiet, and I can feel the weight of their gazes on me.
I want to tell them everything—about my father, about his minions who are undoubtedly in Tallahassee, about my fear that Lily might inadvertently reveal my location.
But the words stick in my throat, held back by years of secrecy and self-preservation.
Keeping quiet kept me safe for the last couple of years, and I need it to keep me safe a little longer.
Instead, I say, "I don't know if I can stay here."
The admission hangs in the air, and the ladies all look at me with sadness.
Internally, my mind races.
Images of my father's cruel smile flash before my eyes, followed by the faces of his associates—men I've spent years trying to forget.
The thought of them being so close, being here, makes my skin crawl.
And Lily... sweet, fierce Lily, who would never intentionally betray me, but whose loose lips could spell disaster.
I left Orlando for a reason, determined to build a new life far from my father's reach.
Now, it feels like the walls are closing in, my carefully constructed sanctuary crumbling around me.
But I can't tell them any of this.
These women, with their bonds of sisterhood and trust, have no idea who my father is or the danger he represents.
So I force a smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels.
"It's just... ever since the attack things are complicated, and I need time to figure it out," I finish lamely, hating how inadequate the explanation sounds.