Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
DREW
Ipulled down the peak of my black baseball cap, scrunching my eyes shut before I pushed the cap back up again. This headache of mine had been lingering for days as the responsibilities of life began to mount.
Weddings. Babies. Enemies. Brotherhoods.
I was twenty-nine years old—feeling like a hundred.
With my free hand, I spun the bottle of beer around on top of the table, staring at it as I waited for the other men to arrive.
Life had gotten so hectic for us all around here, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d sat at the table this way like we were still a full functioning club—one that I was the head of, with the gavel resting next to me, waiting to be brought down once a decision had been made.
I’d made the choice to purposely leave Deeks out of this meeting, sending him on errands with Ayda while she got things in place for the wedding. The sooner she became my wife, the better.
The door creaked open, and Kenny walked through wearing a sad smile of acknowledgment, soon followed by Slater, Jedd, Moose, and a few other guys who each had their smokes hanging from the corners of their mouths.
I squinted against the cloud of gray air they brought in with them, instantly thinking of Harry.
Get it together, son.
Right, Harry.
Clearing my throat, I messed with the peak of my cap again and readjusted the cut on my shoulders. Jedd and Slater flanked me on either side and once all the men were in place, I looked up at them individually and scowled.
“Someone’s missing,” I told them.
“Deeks is out with Ayda,” Kenny reminded me, but I shook my head slowly and glanced back at the closed door that led to the bar.
“I’m not talking about Deeks. We need Eric in here.”
Whoever coughed roughly failed to hide their surprise, but I didn’t flinch. I just waited for someone to get out of their fucking chair and go to get him.
Slater moved quickly, the screech of his chair against the hard floor sounding like a sharp knife against my already aching head.
“Bold move,” Jedd muttered beside me.
All I could do was offer him a weak half smile and a raise of my brows.
“Makes quite the statement,” he added.
“What do you want me to do? Leave him out of this shit when he’s the one leading the way?”
“Not even a little bit.” Jedd leaned back in his chair with satisfaction, his eyes trained on the door he was waiting for Slater and Eric to walk back through.
When they did, Slater led the way, and Eric followed closely behind him.
His hand rested on the edge of the open door, and his eyes found mine immediately.
There were no looks, no subtle gestures, or any words spoken.
I gave him to the count of ten to see the certainty in my face and sit the fuck down, and luckily he did just that, taking the empty seat that was once Harry’s.
The significance of it didn’t go unnoticed.
Nobody had sat in that chair since Harry’s cancer-riddled ass had ruled us all with a quiet manipulation we hadn’t seen at the time.
Now there was another scheming bastard keeping that seat warm, and I had no doubts in my mind that Eric had the same good intentions for the club that Harry had had while alive.
Looking around the table, all eyes were on me, and for the first time in a very long time, nerves attacked me. The pressure tingled my spine. Being president didn’t feel as natural as it once had, and I had no idea why that was or what that meant for my future.
“First things first: this is long overdue, but I feel I owe each and every one of you here an apology,” I announced.
Slater’s scowl was firm, and his shoulders became set, while Jedd had to press his lips together to stop himself from scolding me—that much was clear.
“Since being released from Huntsville, a lot has changed in my life,” I admitted, looking down at my clamped hands, my fingers twisting together.
“When I left you all to deal with the club, and the aftermath of Pete’s death, I was a selfish bastard who couldn’t see the light even in the daytime.
All I saw was darkness. Everything here was blurred,” I waved a weak hand over my forehead, frowning as I did, “drowned out by the screaming rage and venom in my head. I never thought about any of you. I never thought about this club that had raised me from a child and taught me things I could never dream of being taught. I only saw the bad in everything. I saw the loss of my brother as a personal attack, and I was the only one injured from it. I didn’t care who in here was hurting.
I didn’t care about your pain. The only thing I had on my mind was survival, and the thoughts about the desperate need I felt to escape and punish myself for believing we were indestructible.
It was self-flagellation because Pete was my religion, and I’d obviously done so many fucked up things in my life that his death was my penance—something I brought on myself without realizing it.
It had to be. The pain I felt, it was my fault. ”
Glancing up, I met each of their gazes as I looked around the table.
“As if that wasn’t selfish enough, I then had the nerve to waltz out of prison and fall in love with a girl.”
A few of the men laughed and cheered like it was a celebration rather than my apology. Waving them down, I rolled my eyes and rubbed my palms together again.
“She took over everything, and because of that, I let things slip. The club became an excuse for me to be violent when things went wrong with her, or she got hurt, or someone dared to burst this bubble we were in—the bubble I could never dream of being in.”
“Drew, you—”
“Shut up, Slater,” I warned quietly, cutting him off.
His shoulders sank, as did his chin to his chest, and I could see by his tense body language that he wasn’t a fan of my apologizing for my happiness—or anything, actually.
In Slater’s eyes, there wasn’t much I could do wrong, and if I were ever to slip, he would be the one to pull me back up to safety.
He saw it as his duty. “I need to say this… just once, Slate. Please.”
He nodded slowly and leaned back in his chair, releasing a sigh.
“Nobody blames you for loving Ayda, Drew,” a brother named Stones said from the far end of the table. Stones was a man I’d never gotten too close to, but one whose loyalty was as apparent as his biting sarcasm toward his MC.
“We’ve all fallen for her,” Moose interjected.
“And the kid’s all right, too,” Ben, who barely ever fucking spoke, piped up. I wasn’t even aware he registered half the shit going on unless he was being told to fix up a motor, help on a repo, or work on a bike.
“The Hanagans brought something to the club that was always missing, Drew,” Moose said in his deep, slow, almost-haunting voice.
“Before them, we only had Autumn and the women out in that bar for female company. Autumn rarely came here, and those women… well, we ain’t exactly treated them with the respect they deserved, have we?
Ayda coming here with a young brother in tow taught us how to respect women again.
She reminded us how important it is to have someone like her around to keep us in line. She brought heart to the place.”
“She also reminded us which sex is really in-fucking-charge,” Jedd laughed.
“Amen, amen,” a few of the guys joined in, their rough laughter making me wish Harry was here to see it.
My smile rose as I studied each of them.
“I was going to apologize for making her my only focus, and letting you guys fall behind again, just like I did when I decided to go inside for five years. But, I can tell from the way you’re all looking at me like goofy little pricks that you’ve all made her your focus, too. ”
“We just don’t get the added extras you do.” Jedd chuckled, and he dodged quickly as I lashed out an arm in an attempt to hit him.
The whole table came to life, and I pointed a finger at each and every one of them. “And none of you ever will. Is that crystal fucking clear, ass wipes?”
A few jokes passed through the room, and I almost allowed myself to get lost in the comfort of it. Suddenly, my nerves were gone, and being at the head of the table seemed like the most natural thing on earth. The only one not to speak yet had been my father.
I turned to him when the noise faded away again.
“We have many things to discuss today. One thing I need to talk to you all about openly is the return of my father.”
Eric’s eyes shot up to mine, a look of worry etched on his face.
“When he first came back, I didn’t trust him,” I told them with honesty.
Slater shifted uncomfortable, the clearing of his throat his giveaway. Kenny scratched his etched-up eyebrow, and Jedd’s jaw tensed when I glanced around at them all.
“Every single one of you here already knows I didn’t trust him.
You also know that the last thing I ever like admitting to is being wrong.
So, get your cameras out, boys, and record this shit if you need to because here it comes.
” I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes on my father.
“Eric, I was wrong. I was wrong to think you wanted to hurt the club rather than save us. I was wrong to be angry with you for running away when I did the same thing after Pete. I’ve been wrong for a lot of things when it comes to you, and even though I still think you’ve got a million skeletons in your closet that will someday come back to haunt us both…
as far as I’m concerned, you’re a part of this MC and this table now. ”
“Hell, yeah.” Kenny nodded.
Eric blinked twice and swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving mine until I broke contact and glanced around the room again.
“Any objections?” I asked my fellow brothers.
And though some still looked uncertain, no verbal objections came, and I brought the gavel down on the table for the first time in a long time, enjoying the vibrations of power it sent up my arm.
“Next on the list… Road Captain.”
I put it to the guys that, if he was willing to accept it, Deeks was the man I wanted to take over the role of Harry Rogers. He was the man I trusted to lead the club out on the road, and the only man that could ever try to wear the same boots Harry once had.
The vote was unanimous, and the hollering and cheering that came forth, along with the hands being banged on against the table, made my smile grow too big as I lost myself in a moment of temporary happiness with my brothers.
Tell them about the baby.
Tell them about the baby.
Tell them about…
But somehow, I held it back.
We discussed Sinclair openly for the first time, each of us staring deep into the other’s eyes as we spoke honestly about the betrayal we’d felt knowing one of our own had been against us.
We discussed the possibility of it happening again, and the consequences that would bring about.
We discussed putting each other first more, communicating, loyalties, and the way we saw the future of the club going should we manage to drag it into a perfect world.
We spoke of the training room and how we could rebuild it, with old ghosts buried and bad memories burned to the ground.
We assigned new roles for the pawnshop since Harry had left a gaping hole in that business, too.
Kenny and Slater were taking over security, stepping it up by doing regular sweeps of all our buildings, fitting more cameras to the entrances of the yard and the land surrounding it.
And finally, we discussed the code.
The code of what would happen if, in the not so unlikely event, one of us got taken in for more questioning by the ATF. After all, the body count surrounding our world over the last few months was higher than it had ever been.
The Emps, including Cortez, Hernandez, and Ramirez.
Maisey fucking Sutton.
Jacob Hove.
Jon Taylor.
Clint.
Owen Sinclair.
And Harry.
Despite the recent plans laid in place by Eric and Jedd, nothing in this life was certain—especially not the happy ever after we now dreamed of. The only thing we could guarantee was trouble. It was up to us how we handled that, and for us to decide who we wanted to be once this hell was over.
If it ever would be.
Tell them about the baby.
Tell them about the baby.
Tell them…
My lips had parted to speak when the door to the room was flung open in a hurry, and there stood Ayda with nothing but uncertainty in her eyes and her hand resting over her stomach as she tried to draw in a breath.