Chapter Two—CJ
The memory of Mom collapsing and delivering Jo should’ve passed without event. No, it should’ve been a triumphant milestone. Instead, it was another reminder of how things turned on a dime and triumph turned to tragedy.
Another little sister.
Because Reb, the little sister he’d grown up loving and protecting, had almost been killed by her bible-thumping twin on the night CJ was experiencing a real club party for the first time.
If he’d been enjoying himself, he might’ve found a little comfort that he’d left his mother and sister alone with Rule on the prowl.
Dad prioritized CJ’s introduction into the club, rather than sticking close to home as he usually did when Mom didn’t attend.
Before Diesel started prospecting, Dad attended more club functions without Mom, but back then they didn’t have such tension between them. Rule was normal and CJ was Mom’s wingman.
Now, February 24th was a couple of hours away and CJ hadn’t ventured from his mother’s hospital room.
For most of the day, she’d been sedated to help with her pain and to lower her blood pressure.
Dad walked the short distance from Rebel’s room every couple of hours to check on Mom and to update CJ.
Something about Dad’s behavior niggled at CJ, but he couldn’t dwell on it while he awaited an upturn in his mother’s condition.
Sitting in the chair next to Mom’s bed, listening to the beeps of the machines, praying she opened her eyes, tortured him. He didn’t understand how she’d kept vigil over him when he’d overdosed without losing her mind.
As if he didn’t have enough to torture him, he realized it was a leap year. Molly would turn seventeen on February 29th. Once again, a fuck up interrupted Dad’s search for her. Or her body.
Covering his face, he drew in a deep breath, sick to his stomach, pain and fear shuddering through him.
“CJ?”
At the sound of Uncle Mort’s voice, CJ lifted his head from his hands and dropped his elbows from his knees. Tears stung his eyes, though they didn’t fall.
Sniffling, he gritted his teeth, ashamed of his moment of weakness. “She’s still sleeping, Uncle Mort.” Emotion hoarsened his words.
Mort held up an overnight bag. “Brought you some change of clothes,” he said, walking to the window seat and setting the bag down before coming to CJ’s side and laying his hand against his shoulder. “She resting, kid. Meggie girl strong. Let her heal.”
“I shouldn’t have gone to Nyx’s initiation.”
Uncle Mort gave a comforting squeeze of CJ’s shoulder, then dropped his hand. “I won’t sugarcoat shit and say you could’ve prevented what Rule did because we both know it probably wouldn’t have happened—”
“Exactly, Uncle Mort,” CJ said bitterly, jumping to his feet and facing his uncle. “That’s exactly what I’m saying—”
“The point not that,” Uncle Mort interrupted. “And it’s not you blaming yourself. My point is shit happened exactly the way it was supposed to.”
The pit in CJ’s gut hollowed out his heart and left him on the verge of falling apart. “They could’ve died—”
“But they didn’t.” Uncle Mort clutched CJ’s biceps, forcing him to stand firm. “This what Rule needs to get help—”
“No, fuck that motherfucker. He tried to kill Mom and Reb. Fuck him. I’d just as soon bury him than comfort him or excuse his behavior.”
“He still your brother and he still your momma son, kid.”
The video he’d seen repeatedly replayed in his head. Rule’s sneak attack on their sister. The way Mom fought to save herself and Rebel. Axel running in with his slingshot just when it seemed as if Mom was doomed.
CJ shook his head. “Fuck him,” he repeated. “He almost took Mom and Reb away.” He pulled away from Uncle Mort’s hold. “As a matter of fact, where is he?” He’d put him out of his fucking misery.
“He was released a couple of hours ago,” Uncle Mort said. “Father Wilkins took him.”
Wildness crept into CJ and he started past Uncle Mort, intending to storm the rectory and beat the fuck out of Rule.
“Sit down, CJ,” Uncle Mort said in a voice that brooked no argument.
“Why?” CJ snarled, furious, devastated, and resentful. “It isn’t your mother and little sister in the hospital because of a fucking madman.”
“You talking like I don’t know about motherfucking madmen. You know how many crazy motherfuckers fucked with my family? Rule far from that.”
“I beg to differ.”
“You can drop to your fucking knees and beg, CJ. Still don’t change the fucking facts. Take a fucking seat and cool off. I get you angry and scared and just fucking tired. It still won’t make it right if you kill your brother who need fucking help.”
“According to you, Uncle Mort,” CJ said in frustration.
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. Sit the fuck down.”
Growling, CJ stalked to his chair and dropped back into it. “You’re just delaying the inevitable.”
“You really want to kill a kid obviously not in his right fucking mind ‘cause you feel guilty and like you failed Meggie and Rebel?”
CJ glowered at Uncle Mort, who folded his arms and lifted his brow in warning. Not only was CJ skirting disrespect of a family member, but also a club officer. He lowered his gaze.
“If you hadn’t gone to the club, especially if it was because you had to stay to protect Meggie and Reb, it would’ve created more bullshit all around. Rule would’ve waited for another opportunity and, perhaps, Meggie wouldn’t have been there. Rule might’ve succeeded in killing Rebel.”
CJ flinched at those words. Mom and Rebel were alive, so he wasn’t sure why he felt so overwhelmed and distraught. The sounds of Mom’s machines seeped into his brain again. For nearly twenty-four hours, they were his lifeline, the difference between sanity and relief and insanity and collapse.
“We all know if Rule had been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have hurt Meggie or Rebel,” Uncle Mort reiterated, always the voice of reason and a solid presence in Dad’s absence.
“Why don’t you take a walk? Bishop in the waiting room, along with Grant, Ryan, and Rory.
Talking to them a minute might clear your mind. ”
“I don’t have anything to say, Uncle Mort. No one can see Rebel yet—”
“No one can see Meggie yet, either. It’s just us. Outlaw not leaving Rebel side except to come in here. He said once he talks to the doctor, he’ll feel better. I hope that motherfucker know to talk gently to your old man.”
Glancing up at Uncle Mort, CJ couldn’t help his smile at the grumble. “Dad can get a little emotional when he’s upset, but maybe you should see if Aunt Jordan can give Rebel’s doctor a head’s up? Take care in describing Rebel’s condition.”
Snickering, Uncle Mort nodded. “We don’t want the physician or Rule fucked up.”
CJ’s humor fled. “Speak for yourself.”
“I’m speaking for you, kid. And Prez. If Rule was always like this, then I’d help you to put him out of his fucking misery. He need our support right now.”
“Does he? Supporting him means turning our backs on Mom and Rebel.”
“I’m not going to keep harping on what Rule need, kid,” Uncle Mort said sadly, his eyes speaking volumes.
To CJ, it seemed as if he had so much more to say but held back out of respect. “Say what’s on your mind, Uncle.”
“It isn’t my place,” Uncle Mort replied, confirming CJ’s suspicions.
“You’re my uncle. It is your place. I see it in your face that you have more to say.”
“Supporting Meggie is more than eliminating threats, CJ. It’s more than going to a party or not going to one. It’s about respecting her and adhering to agreements.”
CJ didn’t pretend not to know what Uncle Mort meant. “I was young when I promised to graduate.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you so fucking old now. Just a geriatric motherfucker.”
CJ held back his glare. He’d already pushed his luck with Uncle Mort.
“Circumstances change. Mom has to understand that. It doesn’t mean I don’t respect her and want to protect her.
Even Dad backed off about school.” He wouldn’t tell Uncle Mort how his father also suggested CJ not join the club.
He was afraid Uncle Mort might agree. “My dad is the greatest man alive and he didn’t finish school. Eventually, Mom will understand.”
Walking around to the other side of the bed, Uncle Mort dropped into the rocking chair.
The spacious room could’ve held two beds, but CJ wasn’t complaining.
If he’d needed a place to sleep, they would’ve brought one in for him, although if it came to that, he’d curl up on the window seat.
He didn’t want the commotion to disturb Mom.
“I thought we had this talk, kid,” Uncle Mort started.
“What talk?”
“That you not Outlaw, you you. Don’t live your life to mirror his, CJ. Nobody want that for you, least of all him. You shouldn’t want that for yourself. Great men only become great based on their actions. Learn from Prez. Follow in his footsteps but be you.”
“I want to be the best club member and the best Prez, Uncle Mort. Like Dad.”
“For a long time, Outlaw only had the club. That’s not you and it’s never been you.
You close to your brothers and sister. You got a momma with the strength to adapt to every situation thrown her way.
The club not your way to acceptance. Fuck, you don’t even have to join the club if you don’t want to. ”
Those words panicked CJ. If Uncle Mort expressed that to Dad, then Dad might decide he was right to think CJ shouldn’t be a part of the club.
“But I want to join. I’ve lived my life waiting for the day I can patch in. Harley and I used to talk about it all the time…”
A pained expression crossed Uncle Mort’s face and CJ’s voice trailed off. Now more than ever, he missed her. She should’ve been with him during his vigil, keeping him company and helping him through this.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bring her up.”
“I miss her too,” Uncle Mort said, the sadness on his face mirrored in his words. “Fuck, I almost wish I didn’t fucking warn you away from her. You fucking better for her than that motherfucker she with.”