3. Ash
ASH
I wait for the front door to close behind them and then turn to Morgan. “I know you and him are together now and that they all helped you when you came off your bike, but . . .” I shake my head, running a hand over my jaw as I think how best to phrase what I want to say.
He sighs. “Just spit it out already.”
“Are you sure about this?”
He drops onto the picnic bench with another heavy sigh, and I instantly feel guilty for causing this, but I wouldn’t be his best friend if I didn’t air my concerns.
When he pats the space beside him, I don’t hesitate to take it. “I thought we went through all this last time. You said you understood. What’s changed?”
“I think last time I was just so fucking pleased to see you, and it was all a bit of a shock, you know?” I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees. “I’ve had time to think about it since then. And I’ve got questions, Mor.”
“I know it seems like this has all happened fast, but it’s been kind of an intense few weeks.”
“Yeah, you said that, but you didn’t really explain why.”
Morgan flinches and glances at the door. And that raises more red flags as far as I’m concerned. I drop my voice to a whisper, glancing around. “Are you sure you’re here willingly? My car is right fucking there. We could be in it and out of here before they even realise.”
“Thanks.” He grips my knee and squeezes it. “But I want to be here. Honest.”
He sounds sincere, and when I meet his gaze, there’s nothing but truth in his eyes.
No fear, no worry.
I want to believe him, but . . . “How did you go from wanting to join their club to fucking the president in less than a month?” I sit back and hold out my hands. “What happened in that time?”
Morgan hesitates. He draws his lip between his teeth and tips his head back to look at the sky.
This.
This reaction right here is what makes me worry. I know he’s hiding something big.
We never kept secrets before he came here.
When he remains silent, I nudge him. “Well?”
“It’s complicated.”
I laugh, can’t help it. “Really?”
He nudges me back. “It is.”
We sit in silence for a minute, and I hate this thing that’s come between us. “I might not get why you suddenly want to be a in a gang—”
“It’s not a gang.”
It so is.
“You can still talk to me. I thought we promised never to lie to each other.”
“We did.”
I don’t want to bring this up again. We’ve cleared the air once already, but I can’t seem to stop the words spilling out. “You’ve already lied to me once. Please don’t do it again.”
“Fuck.”
He sounds so torn up, but I ignore the guilt tugging at me.
Because he might not be outright lying to me now, but my gut feeling is that whatever he’s not telling me is fucking huge.
“Look—” My phone chooses that moment to ring loudly.
When I pull it out of my back pocket and see my mum’s name on the screen, I glance at Morgan and hold up a finger. “One sec.”
“Hey, everything okay?”
“No, not really.” She sounds resigned and sad, and I hear my dad talking to someone in the background. “They’ve admitted her. We’ve just popped out for a coffee while they run some tests. Going back in a bit.”
I ask her about visiting hours and promise to drop in and see my nan later before hanging up.
“Your nan?” Morgan asks.
“Yeah. They’ve kept her in hospital.” I knew it was coming, but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to accept.
She’s always been so full of life; it’s hard to reconcile that with the frail old lady she’s quickly become.
Not that I’d ever say that to her. There’s nothing wrong with her mind or her sharp tongue.
It’s all so unfair.
“I’m sorry.” Morgan presses his shoulder against mine.
I press back against him. “Thanks.”
And as I sit there, phone in hand, the righteous indignation I felt moments earlier drains out of me. Does it matter that I don’t know every single detail of his life? If it affected me in any way, he’d tell me. I need to trust that he’s fine, accept it’s not my business, and move on.
I just want my best friend back.
“You don’t need to explain anything about Lynx.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “What?”
“I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m sorry. As long as you’re safe and happy, that’s all I need to know.”
“I am.” He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into an awkward hug, since I’m bigger than him.
It makes me smile.
“He makes me happy.”
I nudge him. “He’d better. I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to know how to dispose of a body.”
Morgan laughs. “Noted.” Then a little quieter, he adds, “I want to tell you. Soon.”
I lean my head against his. “No rush.” And I’m almost convinced I mean it.
Am I still curious? Of course I am, but we’re not kids anymore. Morgan’s got himself a whole new life, a new man, and there are some aspects of that newness he’s going to want to keep private.
The silence that settles between us isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it’s never been like this between us, and I hate it. “So,” I say, hoping he takes this for the olive branch it is. “What’s it like living with a biker gang?”
He huffs out a laugh, the relief in it evident. “It’s not a gang. It’s a club.”
“Mhm. Of course it is. Did you find out how they pay for all this yet?” I wave a hand over the house and the surrounding land.
Morgan shrugs. “It’s not come up.”
“Not come up?” I stare at him, wide-eyed. “Shouldn’t that’ve been one of the first things you asked before joining a group of possible criminals?”
“They’re good people, Ash.”
I notice he doesn’t deny the criminal part, and I have to remind myself that it’s his decision. His choice. I don’t have to like it, but I’m going to have to respect it. “If you say so.”
“I do.” He stands. “Come on, let’s walk and talk. I want to stretch my legs a bit.”
I let him lead me towards the trees, like he did last time I was here. Not that I want to go inside the house, but it makes me wonder if I’m not allowed. “How strict are they?”
He stops and faces me. “Who?”
I roll my eyes and nod back towards the house. “I was just wondering if we’re out here talking because I’m not allowed in the clubhouse.”
Morgan smirks. “Yeah, that’s not why.”
“Then what is it?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to go inside with all the inner circle there.”
I run through who exactly that is in my head, then quickly shake it. “Nope. Out here is good.”
“Thought you might say that. They’re nosy fuckers too, so this gives us a bit of privacy.”
That makes me frown. “Pretty sure there’s more than one room in that place. Wouldn’t they let you be alone with me?” Maybe I should be worried after all.
He laughs and mutters, “Walls are thin.”
“Seriously, though.” I catch his arm when he starts forward again. “I’ve read about biker clubs and all the rules and shit they have.”
Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up. “You?”
And fine, I guess he’s got a point. I knew nothing—didn’t want to know anything—when he first said he wanted to join the Wild Wolves.
“I wanted to find out what you were trying to get into.” He waits for me to elaborate.
“There was a lot, but the thing that stuck out was that outsiders aren’t welcome.
” I tap my chest. “That’s me. I’m an outsider. ”
“You’re also my family.”
His eyes are full of warmth and I want to cling to that connection we’ve always had, but it doesn’t change what I’ve just come to realise.
“You have a new family now.”
He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again, because he knows I’m right. He runs a hand through his hair and it feels like he’s buying time while he works out what to say. “They’ve not replaced you, Ash. My family’s got a little bigger, that’s all.”
I huff, thinking about his new family. “Bigger and scarier.”
For some reason, that pulls a bark of laughter out of him. “You have no idea.”
Before I can say anything to that, he grabs my arm and tugs me to start walking again.
“Come on, I’ve had enough serious talk for now.
I’m happy and I’m safe. I promise. Let me show you this cool spot I found in the woods and you can fill me in on what’s been happening in your life these past few weeks. ”
“Great,” I grumble, following him into the trees. “Pretty sure I can’t top joining a gang and fucking the leader.” I laugh at the expression on Morgan’s face, dodging out of the way when he tries to tackle me. We wrestle around for a bit, laughing, and it finally feels like us again.
They’re all sitting on the picnic bench by the time we emerge from the trees an hour or so later.
Lynx Harper, Callum Holt, Flint Harrison, and Mal Cleaver.
I know all their names because Morgan’s been filling me in on the details.
That’s how I know that there’s one of the inner circle missing.
And thank fuck for that, because to say I’m uncomfortable around Jet is an understatement.
Despite Morgan’s assurances that he’s no threat to me, I have a hard time believing it whenever he sends his glare my way.
“What’re you lot doing out here?” Morgan asks as we come to a stop a few feet away from them.
Lynx grins. “Enjoying the sunshine.”
It’s cloudy out today.
Obviously, they’re here to keep an eye on me.
I try not to let it, but my gaze inevitably slides to Callum Holt.
If I don’t think about the fact he’s in a biker gang, I can appreciate how fucking hot he is. With the way he’s facing, I’m mostly getting his profile: sharp jawline with more than a hint of stubble and shaved hair. The edge of a tattoo peeking out above his collar.
He’s currently watching Morgan. They all are, like there’s some kind of silent conversation going on—so I let my gaze linger when normally I’d be quick to look away before he catches me.
The white T-shirt he’s got on clings to him everywhere, but his arms are bare.
More tattoos decorate warm brown skin and taut muscle . . .
Just like in my dreams.
I’m a big bloke, well over six feet and blessed with wide shoulders, but I reckon Callum’s both taller and broader than me.
Strong enough to handle anything.
There’s a cough beside me—Morgan—and my gaze snaps away to find everyone else staring at me in various stages of amusement. I scowl, which only seems to make it worse.
I’m not stupid. Clearly there’s some inside joke here that I’m not privy to. Turning to Morgan and effectively shutting the others out, I say, “I better get going. Got to call in at the hospital.”
Morgan nods. “Yeah, course.”
I have manners, so leaving without acknowledging the others feels rude. But the usual pleasantries don’t sit right. It wasn’t nice to see them again, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to see them anytime soon either. I glance back and toss a “Bye” over my shoulder. I catch Flint Harrison’s grin.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he calls back, and one of the others snorts.
I don’t know who, because I’m already marching to my car, Morgan jogging to catch up.
I unlock it, but as I reach for the driver’s door, I drop my voice to a whisper.
“I don’t know how you put up with those arseholes.
If you want to escape for a day, an hour, or whatever, you remember where I live, right?
” He rolls his eyes, but I’m serious. “Just because you’ve moved in here doesn’t mean you can’t leave. ” I narrow my eyes. “Does it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Good. So next time you can come to mine, or we can meet at the pub, or anywhere that isn’t here.”
He bites his lip, and I swear he’s about to glance back at Lynx when he smiles and says, “Yeah. We can do that.”
“Great.” I pull the door open, then I remember something I’d meant to tell him earlier. “Oh, I drove by your old house yesterday.” He flinches and I immediately feel like shit. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It just felt weird to see someone else coming out of the front door.”
His body goes rigid. “There were people there?”
“Well, I only saw one guy, but yeah.” I frown.
I’m not all that clear on the details of exactly how he and his dad lost their house—Morgan wasn’t overly forthcoming—but I’m not sure why he’s surprised that the people who have it now have moved in.
It’s a beautiful house. “Did you think it was still empty?”
“No.” He shakes his head but looks distracted. “Um . . . drive safely, yeah. Give my love to your nan.”
“I will, and thanks.” I get in the car and start the engine.
“Ash?” He grabs my shoulder before I can shut the door. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”
“What for?”
“So I know you’re home safe.”
It’s my turn to scoff. “It’s not like I’m going far, and it’s broad daylight. What do you think’s going to happen? This is Harlington.”
“Just text, okay?”
“Fine.”
I close the door, wave, and then reverse out of my parking spot and head toward the gate. A glance in my rearview mirror shows Morgan now in front of the others, gesticulating wildly. God knows what that’s about. And honestly? I don’t want to know.
I get cold looks from the guys on the gate, so I ignore them too.
The drive to the hospital takes me through the woods. It’s the opposite direction to my house, and I blame Morgan’s parting words for the uneasy feeling that creeps over me when a couple of cars appear in my rearview mirror a few minutes later.
It’s a road, Ash. They’re just going places, same as you.
I laugh at my sudden and unfounded paranoia because, motorcycle gangs aside, nothing exciting ever happens around here.