Chapter 14 #2
It only takes me another ten minutes to get to the clubhouse.
It looks very much like it did the first night I pulled up here.
Bikes all in neat rows in the compound, a few younger guys on guard duty out there, the asphalt parking lot littered with a few vehicles, the streetlight filtering down golden light on the immaculate brick building.
The only thing that’s noticeably different is that the bushes out front have burlap bags on them to keep them settled in through the cooler weather, and the large trees on the corner of the lot have changed color.
The streetlight doesn’t reach them fully, but during the day, I know what a bright yellow they are.
I park in the lot, grab the huge paper bag, and walk over with it tucked in my arms. The chain link gate is already rolled back and Jonathan, a younger guy who Odin said has been prospecting for a while, greets me with a smile.
He has a total babyface, but somehow his leather jacket, roughed up jeans, and shitkicker boots still suit him.
“Hey, Willow. Tyrant said to watch for you. Odin’s in the lounge. I can take you in.”
“Sure.” I blink back the not so entirely unexpected sheen of tears. “Thanks.”
He leads me through that heavy steel door and down the long hallway. Even though I’ve been in the clubhouse a few times now, I’m still intrigued by all of it. Even if I was here a hundred times, I don’t know if it would lose its badass aura.
“I’ve been thinking about a club name for a long time now,” Jonathan says suddenly. I’m not sure if he’s noticed that I’m blinking way too much and breathing too deep to try and settle myself out, or if he’s just making conversation. “What do you think about Stabmaster?”
I do my best not to choke on the piece of peppermint gum I popped in my mouth in the car. “Oh. Do you uh- is stabbing people going to be part of your job?”
Jonathan is tall, with broad shoulders and gangly limbs. He’s one of those guys who hasn’t grown into their height yet and probably won’t until he fills out later. His smile is shy. “I’ve been practicing with knives. Not to stab anyone. We don’t do much of that as a club anymore.”
Anymore. Okay. Good to know.
“Maybe just Blade?”
He hums as he walks, some old fashioned sounding tune. Honestly, I think that this guy would get eaten alive in any other club, but not this one, and knowing that floods me with warmth.
“It’s a little common though, don’t you think? Maybe Blade Wielder.”
“Yeah. That’s cool.”
“Blade for short,” he winks at me, but then his face creases. “Shit. Sorry. I should take that bag for you.”
“Oh. No worries. It’s not heavy.” It’s also sending a pleasant warmth through me, and I’m in no hurry to get rid of it.
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I am, thanks.”
The closer we get to the lounge, the louder the hum of voices is, until I can hear everything being said.
“Sit down. She’s coming here. You don’t need to go anywhere.
She’s not mad. That’s what we keep trying to tell you.
If you won’t sit, I’m going to tackle you to the ground, throw you over my shoulder, and take you straight back to Archer’s.
You clearly need a reassessment. I don’t believe that you don’t have a concussion. ”
“I think the hearing damage just comes from being old.”
“He’s probably had enough of the ground. He left half his skin all over it.”
“Odin. Seriously. Sit down. You’re banged up, bandaged, and half skinned. You look two shades better than roadkill. That tar snake fucked you six ways to Sunday.”
“You don’t understand. I gave my word.”
I don’t know who the other voices belong to, but it’s clear that they’re not being cruel. They’re concerned, but they’re also keeping things as light as possible. A little bit of brotherly, good natured teasing to talk Odin down.
As soon as I hear him, I want to rush down the remaining hallway, clear the corner, and careen into the lounge.
I want to throw myself at him and tell him it’s all good.
I’m here. We’re fine. And probably burst into tears and embarrass myself by sniffling different versions of thank fuck you’re alive through it all.
I don’t want to be anything other than encouraging, so I make sure I keep a measured pace behind Jonathan, no matter how much I want to shove the bag into his arms and take off.
“We do get it. That’s why we keep telling you that she’ll be here shortly.” That’s Crow. I know his voice.
“You don’t know that.” Odin’s low growl is more of a question, though.
“We do, because she told Tarynn she was on her way, and Tarynn asked Crow to ask Tyrant to get the okay for her to spend the night here so she doesn’t have to drive back to Crow’s shop at some ungodly hour.
It’s all good. Everything’s fine. Is it low blood sugar?
Is that what’s happening?” Raiden has a certain way of speaking, a sort of drawl that he probably doesn’t even notice, but I do.
“I think that must be it. Everyone gets hangry and spacey when they haven’t eaten, get knocked about, pass out, have to see the surgeon, get bandaged up, have to ride in a cage back across the city, and try to start several fights because of selective hearing.”
“You’re an asshole.” That growl doesn’t have any uncertainty in it.
“Love you too, darling.”
It’s clear that they really do, though. All of them.
And hearing that does my heart so, so good.
It’s a beautiful reminder that the family I dreamed of for so long can and does exist in the world.
The life I spent so many years trying to build, and so much effort trying to make work, isn’t the only thing out there.
Just because it didn’t work out, doesn’t mean that nothing ever will.
It doesn’t mean that even though I was wrong about love before, doesn’t mean I’m wrong about this.
I knew what I was going to say tonight. I had it planned out. I’d gone over and over it in my head, just to make sure there weren’t any loopholes.
I was relying solely on logic. On science. I tend to fall back on reason to make decisions. Most people will tell you that that’s a solid basis and a good idea.
These men are one percenters. Meaning that they’re not like other people.
I think the term originally meant something not so great and the connotation has stuck, striking fear and probably loathing into the hearts of people who can coexist in society.
I take it to mean that the men here are different than most people, and maybe society didn’t want them, but they found their ninety-nine percent here.
They created it. Found family. Brotherhood. Shared values.
As I follow Jonathan around the corner, down the short hall that branches off into the front of the clubhouse where the lounge and kitchen are, I know that whatever I had planned to say tonight is no longer a thing.
Fake marriage or not, I’m a part of this family.
I’m in Odin’s life. We don’t need to talk about the future tonight. It’ll be there in the morning.
Tonight, all I want to do is sit beside him, soak him in, bask in his presence, and be thankful that he’s here, and celebrate the fact that he’s in my life at all.