CHAPTER 22
EZRA
Everything we’ve collected over the last few days while Titus has been in the hospital is packed up. He tried to get them to sign off on him leaving almost immediately. I think he would have walked out on his own if I hadn’t stopped him. He’s been stressing me out.
Now we’re headed home. It’s strange for me to consider Titus’ house on the club’s land as my own. I do though.
I like my place in town, don’t get me wrong, but the house at the club gives me a feeling I’m not used to.
There’s a safety and warmth there which I’ve only ever truly felt in those walls.
Even when I told myself to hold back and to not scatter my stuff all over the place, I haven’t been all that successful.
What can I say? I tend to spread out no matter where I am. I have plenty of things to leave around.
Titus hasn’t even looked twice at anything. Or if he did it’s only because he likes it. I can see it on his face when he catches something else that I’ve left around like I belong there.
I look over at Titus who is sitting in the wheelchair with a scowl on his face. It’s deep and dark, but I have to hold back a laugh.
“I can’t believe they’re really going to make me ride out in this thing,” he complains while glaring down at the chair like it personally offended him.
“It’s the rules,” I tell him.
I’m pretty sure I’ve said the same thing to him five times since they wheeled it in here. He grumbles something else under his breath, but I’m not paying attention. I’m checking all the drawers, even the ones I know I never put anything in.
It’s not just Titus’ things here either. I haven’t left. Why would it? There’s a bathroom, a bed Titus insists I sleep in with him, and the club has brought us meals. Having food delivered to us has been amazing.
I suppose hospitals don’t need to be known for their food. This one certainly isn’t.
“I’m more than capable of walking,” I can hear the frustration in his words.
I get it. He’s a man who likes action and relies on his physicality. I’m sure not being allowed to walk out on his own power isn’t easy for him to do.
When I put my hand on his shoulder, he looks up at me with narrowed eyes because he knows I’m about to placate him like a toddler. He deserves it.
Before I can, the door opens and I look up expecting it to be the nurse so we can get this show on the road, but I freeze when my dad walks in. He’s not in his uniform today, which is kind of a surprise.
“Hello,” he starts, his voice tinged with an awkwardness he’s not sure how to overcome. After clearing his throat, he steps deeper into the room. His hands are loose at his sides, but I can see the strain in his shoulders. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he tries.
“No,” I tell him, feeling the need to fill the awkwardness, “we’re just waiting for the nurse to come back with his discharge paperwork and then we’re out of here.”
My word, is that my voice? It’s far too high and bright; it sounds fake as hell. Internally, I grimace.
Something relaxes in my dad’s shoulders. “Good,” he says it like he means it. “I’m glad you’re doing better and getting out of here.”
One side of Titus’ mouth lifts, but his voice is neutral, like he’s testing out the waters, “It’ll take more than a bullet to bring me down. At least this time,” he chuckles like it’s a joke.
I smack at his shoulder and chastise him, “It’s not funny at all. I’m traumatized.”
Titus glances up at me, his gray eyes sparkling, “No, you’re not.”
Even though I try biting my lip to stop myself from smiling, it’s a total failure. I grin down at my man, the one who took a bullet for me and would stand in front of anything to protect me, and I feel the love pulsing between us.
“Fine,” I admit, “I’m not.” I point at him and add, “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared out of my mind.”
Titus grabs my hand and brings it up to his lips. He kisses my fingertips softly; his eyes filled with a warmth which resonates in the center of my chest and blooms. “I know,” he murmurs.
My dad clears his throat, and I gasp before turning in his direction with wide eyes. I’m expecting anger. I’m expecting rage.
But what I see in my dad’s eyes is a softness and a recognition that I’ve never seen before.
“You two are the real deal,” he says it like he’s only just now coming to the realization.
He chuckles softly, but the sound is self-deprecating in a way I wasn’t aware my father was capable of.
“I saw it when I watched the security feed but seeing it in person is different.” When he looks at me, he states, “You love him.”
“I do. He’s a good man. I’m not going to stand here and list all the reasons why because it’ll stroke his ego too much,” Titus chuckles, but doesn’t say I’m wrong, “but just know the list is long. The most important thing is that he treats me how I should be treated.”
Dad shifts his gaze to Titus. “You love her.”
“With everything in me,” the words are a resolute vow.
He looks between us and nods. “Then I’m not going to stand in your way.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before looking at Titus. “I won’t get between the two of you, but I also will never let personal shit get in the way of me doing my job.”
“Understood,” Titus’ voice is grave and holds the weight of this fragile thing between them.
It’s not a challenge, but it’s something.
Dad looks at me and sighs softly. “I don’t believe everything will be fixed between us overnight.
I let you down, and not just once or twice, but for a long time.
I deserve to stew in it for a while. I’m also not going to be able to change everything about me overnight.
I just hope that one day we can work on it. ”
“Dad,” the word feels like a sob and comes out a little broken. I step closer to him and hug him. When he wraps his arms around me and squeezes softly, I murmur, “I hope one day we can work on it too.”
It’s not today.
He knows that.
I know it too.
Still, as I step back, I’m willing to bet on the little ember of hope inside of me. I can take a chance on my dad because I know I’ll always have someone to be there for me, no matter what. My biker.
When I move back next to Titus, he looks at me with eyes full of pride.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Dad says before glancing between us one more time and turning back toward the door. At the last second, I swear I see one side of his mouth lift in a half-smile, but I can’t be entirely sure.
A tentative truce was formed in this room. It’s more than enough for right now.
The night of the fair, I could not have guessed I’d ever have that much.
Thankfully, the nurse arrives before Titus can grumble about the wheelchair again. I walk next to him the entire time, knowing what will be greeting him the moment we step outside. When we do, Titus stills even though the nurse keeps pushing.
The entire club, every single brother, is out in front of the hospital. Half are in front of his SUV, which is idling at the curb, and the other half are behind. When they see him, everyone starts revving their engines.
Over the last few days, there has been a steady stream of brothers and Old Ladies coming in and out of the hospital to see him, but this moment crystalizes it.
Their loyalty to the club, yes, but also to him.
The weight of the cuts they all wear on their backs.
I clear my throat when I come to a stop and the nurse mirrors me. Titus looks up at me with glassy eyes and a lump forms in my throat. Does he not realize how loved he is? Does he not realize what he means to them?
After I smile at him, I turn toward Snake as he walks toward me. He hands me the cut in his hands and kisses my cheek before walking back toward his bike. I’m sure he wishes Graycie were behind him, but with the pregnancy they’re not risking it and I totally understand.
While holding up Titus’ cut, I go to where the leather has been patched.
My voice wobbles slightly, “I know it’s felt like you’ve been missing something, but I wanted to make sure this was patched before you slid it back on.
” I toy with the area, the circle where the bullet went through the fabric is easy to see.
“The mark of it is still there, a way to honor the truth of what happened while making your cut whole.”
Titus stands up slowly and the nurse tuts at him. He doesn’t pay her any attention. He steps around the chair and right in front of me. His gray eyes bore into mine and his voice sounds like gravel, “You going to slip it on me, Teach?”
A shiver works its way down my spine and I nod slowly. I’m very aware of everyone watching us, but I look into the eyes of the man I love with my entire being and it all falls away.
Titus turns and faces his brothers before I slip one arm and then the other through the holes of his cut. When I slide it up and into place, letting the leather settle over his shoulders, the sound coming from the bikes is deafening. It’s not just a roar, it’s a declaration. It’s a celebration.
With a sneer toward the wheelchair, which earns another tut from the nurse, Titus hooks his arm around my waist and leads me to his SUV.
He tries to lead me to the passenger side, but I level him with a look that shows every ounce of my displeasure and the level of stubbornness I will bring to the situation if he were to try to drive us home.
The little grunt of pain he makes when he gets in the car is all the confirmation I need. He’s not driving anywhere. I already know the man is going to try to get on his bike too damn soon.
I get behind the wheel and let out a breath of relief. We’re leaving the hospital and I’m so fucking grateful. I’m not sure I could ever express the gratitude I feel.
He’s alive.
I’m safe.
It’s done.
I’m just not entirely certain about what comes next. I know what he said—I’m his and I’m not going anywhere. As much as I want to believe it and leap, it’s not easy to do.
“So, what do we know?” I ask the question which has been burning inside of me for the last few days.
At first, I didn’t care about what was going on in the outside world in regard to Bobby and the entire incident. The man was clearly not in his right mind the other day. He was barely making sense, and he was fixated on the wrong thing—talking to me—as if it would solve all his problems.
Titus was getting updates on everything because the man doesn’t know when to stop, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. He was also watching me as if he expected me to break at any moment. I suppose the possibility of that happening isn’t without merit.
I should be freaking out about the fact that a dead body was so close to me.
Then there’s how I witnessed the moment he was shot.
But that wasn’t what stuck with me about that day.
No, what I see when I close my eyes is the blood seeping through my fingers and the light flickering in Titus’ gray eyes.
That is the nightmare fuel within the memory of what happened at the grocery store.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but I don’t feel sorry for Bobby. He made his choices. He faced the consequences for at least one of them.
“The word around town is Bobby had a psychotic break. The only other person close enough to hear most of what he was saying was the clerk. She was hiding and is the one who called the sheriff’s department, but she was scared and didn’t hear a lot of what was being said.
The security video didn’t have sound, but it certainly looks like he was high and off the rails. ”
“So, that really is it,” I say, some of the tension leaving my shoulders.
“As far as I know. I’m sure your dad will have more questions about the whole thing and those can be answered honestly.
The carnie is long gone,” there’s a darkness in his voice with those words which I choose to ignore completely.
“Everyone is spinning a narrative for Bobby’s behavior and now he’s dead.
He didn’t tell his boss about what was going on.
Even now, after Whiskey has tried to pull on the threads we know about, we can’t find any reason to believe you’re in any danger. ”
I glance over at Titus after I pull through the gate of the clubhouse, but I don’t stop there. Instead, I head around to where the club has set up the houses to feel like a neighborhood but with more land to spare. Something twinges in my heart and I push it aside.
I’ll deal with that later. After I ensure he’s really okay.
Only then will I worry about what comes later.
The entire time he’s walking into the house, I’m hovering nearby like a hummingbird. When he lowers his large frame onto the couch and sighs in relief, I’m right there, my hands barely touching him.
“Do you need anything? What can I get you? I’ll go and get you some water,” I decide and start toward the kitchen.
Titus snags my wrist, his tone a gentle admonishment, “Ezra.”
When he yanks me down on his lap, I immediately try to get up, but his hold is firm. “No, I can’t be on your lap. You just got out of the hospital,” with my words, my face scrunches up with indignation.
“I’m aware,” he rumbles before nuzzling his face in my neck. He takes a deep breath, and I find myself doing the same, his spruce and cinnamon scent helps me to relax slightly. “You don’t need to hover, and you don’t need to wait on me,” his words slide along my skin.
“I do,” I insist. “You just got out of the hospital,” I say it again as if he would be impacted by the gravity of my words if said a second time. By the way he huffs, he’s not. “I’m going to nurse you back to health.”
“I’m fine,” he tells me.
His fingers tangle in my hair and he tugs while pulling back enough to look into my eyes. “What’s really going on, Teach?”
The way his gray eyes search mine is my undoing. My tears come unbidden and there’s no way for me to contain them. Titus looks horrified for a second before his features soften.
My fingers grip the edge of his cut as I break down and sob. “I was so scared you were going to die right there, right in front of me,” my voice comes out broken and jagged.
His hand slides up and down my back. I’ve cried over the last few days, but this is different. These tears feel like a purging.
I’m grateful for it because it feels like I’ve been bottling everything up over the last few days. My only focus was Titus and getting him out of the hospital. Now we’re home.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my temple. “I will always fight to come home to you. It’s my greatest honor to love and protect you. I’ll never give up when the alternative is you.”
My tears ebb, but the feeling of being found, of being seen, remains. He holds me close and we simply let the moment settle around us.
When the doubts creep in, when the fear of losing him tries to sink its claws deeper, Titus is there with his hand on my back and his sweet words in my ear.
We’re home. I just hope I really can stay and his words weren’t just pain medicine and adrenaline talking.