12. Emma
Chapter twelve
Emma
After Trey left to handle club business, Fijor had all the energy in the world after his power nap in the car. We played with all the new toys he had collected over the past few days, made dinner, and I gave him a bath. By bedtime, he was back to being tuckered out.
Just as I shut his bedroom door with a click, with him fast asleep, his arm thrown up over his head just like his father's, I heard pounding on the front door.
I quickly made my way down the stairs, securing the baby gates the prospects installed last night at the top and bottom of the stairs.
Somehow, I knew who it was before I even opened the front door.
Harley gave me the grace to watch Fijor yesterday morning without asking questions, but now my time was up.
The Heathen sisters came to collect their answers.
Flanked by Jessica and Scarlet, Harley looked terrifying in her own right.
I watched as Harley's gaze fell on me, revealing every bit of the outlaw, Heathen princess she was.
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, her presence steady yet expectant.
“Emma,” she greeted. “We’re not leaving until you spill the beans.”
Jessica turned to take a seat at the table set in the middle of the screened-in porch, while Scarlett leaned against the railing, watching me intently and waving a baggie of weed in the air as if offering an olive branch.
I took a deep breath, hands trembling, and accepted the offering for what it was.
“I’ll make us a pot of coffee,” I whispered.
I made the pot and brought it out onto the screened-in porch, along with four cups, setting them on the table Trey had perfectly set with five chairs around the circular table.
I sat down and poured myself a cup. Scarlett finished rolling the blunt, lit it, took a hit, and passed it to me.
I took a long inhale, released the smoke, and leaned back in my padded chair, propping my feet on the bottom rung of the table.
If we are to repair this relationship, honesty and transparency must be at its core.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you everything,” I said, my voice cracking as the tension finally gave way.
Harley poured herself a cup, eyeing me over the rim. “Start with Fijor. Why the secrecy?”
I sat across from them, clutching my mug, feeling the warmth anchor me as the words rushed out. “After Trey ripped my heart out in that visitation room... I left. I went back home to Arkansas. I couldn’t stay. I had Fijor on my own.” Tears fell, and Jessica moved closer, squeezing my shoulder.
Scarlett nodded, her expression softening. “And Snake?” she asked, her voice gentle.
I nodded, ashamed. “I started seeing him, but it was a mistake. Running to Oklahoma was my only choice. I had no idea Gator was out until I saw him standing in the clubhouse. I swear I would have come back and told him if I had known.” I begged for their forgiveness as I spilled everything I had gone through, from the moment I left the visitation room to the moment I felt Trey get out of bed the next morning and head to church.
Harley grimaced but reached out, pulling me into a hug.
“We all make mistakes, Emma. It’s what we do after that counts. That’s why we’re here,” Scarlett says, rolling another blunt, lighting it, and passing it around as we settle onto the porch, the night air swirling around us.
The conversation flowed, raw and honest, each confession met with understanding and forgiveness. By the end, we sat huddled together, our tears dried, the air cleansed by our raw honesty, the sisterhood stronger for it.
Jessica wiped her eyes, sniffling as she looked at me. “We’re all here, Emma. No more secrets, right?” I nodded, a sense of relief settling in my chest.
Scarlett squeezed my hand, her fingers warm and steady.
The outdoor fan and light above the table flickered with the movement of the ceiling fan, and for a moment, the world felt calm, just us, the night, and the bond between sisters, stitched tighter by truth.
We talked about everything that had happened since I had been gone from the compound, including Stud finding Allie, his stepping up to help raise Cole, the new baby girl born too early after he was shot, and the flood of activity that had descended on the clubhouse.
We discussed what we suspected the guys were up to while we sat around, catching up and healing old wounds.
The brothers have been tight-lipped. Scarlette said some of the brothers came up from the basement.
They had church, then a few piled onto their bikes and rode out.
Jessica said Nutz had been gone since about four in the morning and she hadn’t seen him all day.
We didn’t need to know what they were doing; we just knew it was serious.
Harley glanced at the clock on the wall behind me and muttered about needing to check on Allie and Cole.
Jessica stretched out, her feet propped up, finally letting go of the tension that had been wound so tight.
We all lingered, unwilling to break the circle just yet, afraid the understanding and the showcase of how great the sisterhood is might slip away if anyone moved too quickly.
None of us was quite ready for this feeling to dissipate.
I poured another round of coffee, the aroma of the beans mingling with the tang of marijuana.
The sticky Oklahoma night air drifted through the screened-in mesh, swirling around us like a soft blanket as we talked in hushed tones about the club, the guys, and the uncertain future.
Outside the screened-in porch, the distant rumble of engines echoed, the voice of the full compound reminding us we are surrounded by the safety net that is the club, our family.
This was what I had envisioned for this screened-in porch, a place for our family to gather.
I never realized how badly I needed the sisterhood until it was taken from me.
I settle into my thoughts, knowing I should have come home sooner.
Maybe I will get the happy-ever-after in our romance books after all.
After giving the sisterhood all my burdens and secrets, I feel lighter, as if I can handle anything with these women by my side.
I know I’m no longer alone, and suddenly everything is right in my little world again.
Feeling the effects of the marijuana, I giggled and shot up from the table, nearly knocking over my coffee in excitement.
“You guys, you won’t believe it. Gator tattooed me!
” My voice was a wild jumble of nerves and pride.
I tugged down my sleep shorts just enough to flash the fresh ink on my ass cheek.
Trey’s mark still stung a little, but it already felt like a badge of honor.
Harley shrieked and covered her mouth. Scarlet’s eyes went wide, and Jessica leaned in, grinning like a mischievous kid.
The porch burst with laughter and squeals; they all crowded around me, peering at the tattoo as if it were a 2-carat diamond engagement ring from Tiffany’s, instead of the tattoo Gator branded me with.
Well, yeah, it might have happened without my initial consent, but there is nothing I would change about it.
Because in this life, it is basically a marriage.
I couldn’t stop giggling, my cheeks burning as the girls poked and teased, their fingers brushing my skin with gentle curiosity. “Did he do it after coming out to the guys?” Jessica asked, her voice laced with pride. I nodded, still catching my breath.
“Yep, right after he got back from church.” I beam.
Harley shook her head and snorted, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Girl, that’s the most Heathen thing I’ve ever heard. It’s so damn romantic I could puke.”
I felt the warmth of their joy wrap around me, easing the tension that had been building all night.
We leaned back, passing the joint and sipping coffee, as I told them about Trey tying me to his bed, his hands steady, his eyes fierce, whispering that he wanted everyone to know I belonged to him.
Harley made a show of gagging at the intimate parts, but I knew she was proud of her brothers’ actions.
The ache and adrenaline from last night’s bullshit melted away, replaced by the silly giddiness of showing off something permanent, something that made me feel claimed and safe, even if it stung.
Jessica nudged me, her eyes soft. “You’re a badass, Emma. Welcome to the club.” I grinned at her, letting the moment sink in.
For the first time in a long while, I felt I truly belonged.
As the large cedar trees rustled alongside the black elms, the string of porch lights swayed from its connection points on either side of the porch to a single tree out in the distance, casting the yard in a soft, warm glow.
The night air drifted through the dark screen between the wooden porch slats, our laughter echoing into the darkness, binding us even tighter.
I knew, come hell or high water, I’d bleed for these women, and now, thanks to Trey, I’d wear the mark to prove it.
***
Roughly an hour after crawling into bed, Trey walks into the bedroom. I am lying in bed, drifting in and out of sleep. I watch as he walks through our bedroom, reeking of gasoline and smoke, and makes his way into the adjoining bathroom, where I hear the shower start.
His normally quick shower seems to drag on, and I have the feeling that the man in the shower is Gator, the Vice President of an outlaw motorcycle club, not Trey, the man I watched make his son breakfast this morning.
I wait with bated breath until I hear the shower shut off and feel him crawl into bed behind me.
He pulls me close to his chest, wrapping his arms around me.
His arms and body smell like his woodsy, clean body soap.
“I know you aren’t sleeping, Pet,” he murmurs before rolling me onto my back and settling between my legs. I run my hands over his face and settle them on his broad shoulders. Moonlight creeping in through the window casts shadows across his rugged face, framed by his full beard.
“Everything okay, baby?” I ask in a whisper.
"For tonight,” he answers cryptically. He leans in and covers my mouth with his.
His kiss is gentle, a contrast to the roughness in his voice.
He kisses me like I’m the most precious thing in his world.
I return his kiss as he gently slides his tongue to meet mine.
The kiss is soft and slow, as if he has all the time in the world.
Trey reaches his hand between the two of us, sliding his finger through my wet fold, rubbing my clit lazily before pulling his hand back, linking our hands together at my head.
In one fluid motion, he thrusts inside of me, stretching me slowly, the slow burn, the most delicious feeling.
My knees tucked up by his shoulders, I gasp at the welcome intrusion, a low groan emanating from my chest as my toes curl at his hips.
“I love you, Emma.” He looks deep into my soul as he mutters these words, taking me at a slow, steady, deep pace, hitting my womb with each stroke.
I see the love shining back at me, but most importantly, I see true, raw fear.
I know whatever is coming has him spooked to his core, but I’m not scared.
I know this man will do whatever he can to keep us safe. He has proven it time and again.