13. Ash
ASH
The knock on my door makes my heart race.
I’m nervous.
It’s only Morgan, for fuck’s sake, but he knows.
And thanks to Callum, I now know that he knows.
I open the door, still undecided if I’m going to bring it up or not. On the one hand, I want to tell him, to talk about it, because I’m confused as fuck. But there’s a part of me that wants to keep it private, to keep it mine.
The second I see his face, I know that avoidance isn’t an option.
“Hey.” I step back to let him inside, but as if drawn by a magnetic pull, my gaze wanders over his shoulder.
Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Looking for someone?”
Yes.
“No. Just seeing if you brought an entourage.”
He rolls his eyes. “I did, but they’ve gone back now I’m here.” He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “Ren’s keeping watch though.”
Not Callum.
I’m disappointed until I realise that means he’ll probably be back tonight. I smile at the thought and Morgan catches it.
He smirks. “Soo . . . you and Cal. When the fuck did that happen?” I lean against the wall and groan as he pokes me in the chest. “And why the fuck am I only just finding out?”
“Fuck.” I go to run my fingers through my hair, cursing when I remember that I’m still wearing that fucking brace and have to switch hands.
Morgan nods at it. “How’s it feeling?”
“Better.” It still twinges but it’s nowhere near as bad as when I first did it.
He nods. “That’s good.”
We stand there awkwardly, and I can’t do it. I can’t keep my best friend at arm’s length, no matter what he’s hiding from me. I need him.
And I think he needs me too.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He bites his bottom lip, his nervous tell. “Why didn’t you? We used to tell each other everything.”
“Before you went and joined one of the local motorcycle gangs.” Okay, so maybe I’m still a little bitter about that. “Fuck, Mor, I hate this.”
“Me too.” He gently nudges my socked foot with his boot. “I know we’ve got this thing hanging between us. But can we . . . ?” He bites his lip again. “Can we shelve that for now and just be us for a bit? I miss my best friend, Ash.”
“You’ve got a whole club full of them now.”
He frowns. “That’s not true.”
“They’re your family though, right? That’s how it works?”
“Yeah, but—” He grips my forearm—“you came first, Ash. That’ll never change.”
For a second, I thought he was going to say And you always will, but that’s not true anymore. He has Lynx. And I get that. I do.
I’m just not sure where I fit in.
But unlike Morgan, I don’t have a whole new family.
I have my regular old one and my best friend.
And when it comes down to it, I don’t want to lose him.
I’ve thought about this secret of his on and off for the past week or so.
Whatever it is, he’s still Morgan, still my best friend.
I doubt that’s going to change. Am I just jealous?
Is that what’s making me like this? I don’t like the way I can’t answer that.
Death has a way of reminding us that we can’t take things for granted. Take life for granted. I don’t want to waste time being petty when I could be spending quality time with Morgan. Time I don’t get as much of anymore.
“Yeah,” I say, coming to a decision. “We can do that.” I wrap my arm around his shoulders and steer him into my living area. “Sit.” I point at the sofa. “I’ll get us a drink and then you can grill me like I know you’re dying to.”
“You’re going to regret that!” he calls as I head over to the fridge. “I have so many questions.”
I’m smiling as I open the door and get us a couple of beers.
It’s like a weight’s been lifted, and I feel lighter than I realised I would.
My nan’s death still hurts, my chest still aches the moment I remember she’s gone, but I have my best friend back, and that goes a long way to easing those edges.
“Here,” I hand him both beers, then go back for the bottle opener. “Forgot I can’t do it.” I sit next to him, feet on the coffee table, waiting for him to finish. “So . . . what do you want to know?”
“Everything. When it started. How it started.” He pauses. “And is it serious?”
I scrunch my nose. “Serious? I’ve only known him about two weeks. He’s stayed over twice.”
Morgan cocks his head to one side. “That’s not an answer.”
I want to say that nothing about it is serious for all the reasons I just gave, but the words taste wrong and I don’t want to say them.
He sits up, beer bottle gripped tight. “It’s different with them, right?”
“Them?”
His eyes widen, then he shrugs. “Bikers. They’re more intense.”
I get the feeling that’s not what he was going to say, but I let it go.
It’s probably my imagination anyway because I think he’s right.
Callum is intense. So is Lynx and the rest of them.
“Yeah, I guess.” I take a long drink of my beer, mulling that over.
“Still early days though. I don’t even know if it’ll go anywhere.
” Or if I want it to. I don’t say that out loud though.
Seems disloyal for some reason. “He stayed over the night my nan died. And again last night.” I pick at the label on my bottle, thinking how to word this next bit.
“He was watching my house from the trees that first night—it was less stalkery than it sounds,” I add quickly.
“I was upset, lonely, and I just wanted—” I sigh as I remember that night.
“I wanted someone to hold me tight and make it go away for a little while. He did that.” I take another drink, my mouth suddenly dry.
“It felt surprisingly easy to crawl into bed with him. Right in a way I wasn’t expecting it to. ”
“And?”
“And we slept. He wrapped his arms around me, and I slept better than I have in weeks.” I lift my arm. “Sprained wrist and all.”
“And that’s it? Because Callum came back smell—looking like you did more than sleep.”
I frown at him, hoping to fuck Callum didn’t smell like sex. Not that it matters now. “No, I may have had a dream about him, and . . .” I make a gesture with my hand and let him figure it out.
It takes him a second and then he barks out a laugh. “You had a dirty dream about him while he was lying next to you?”
I slap his arm. “Fuck off. It worked out okay.” More than okay.
He sobers. “And nothing last night?”
“No, we just cuddled.” I grimace. “I know that sounds . . .” I wave my hand about, not sure what I’m trying to say. “But it was . . . nice.” And exactly what I needed.
“You like him,” Morgan says, and is that sadness . . . regret in his voice?
“Yeah,” I smile. “I guess I do.”
There’s that look again and it makes me bristle. “What’s that face for? Am I not good enough for your precious club?”
“What? No.” He shakes his head quickly. “That’s not—of course you are.”
I wave my finger at his face. “What’s that look for then?”
He bites his lip. Again. “It’s just, they’re an MC, Ash.”
“And?” I frown. “What’s your point?”
“There’s things you don’t know about them. About how they make their money, and some of the things they’ve done.”
My eyes narrow further. “Illegal things?”
He shrugs.
“So you found out where their money comes from?”
“Not yet. There’s other stuff going on that they’re focused on right now.”
“Like the reason why I have people watching me?” I’ve not forgotten Callum’s safety inspection of my house or his warning. Though to be fair, it’s kind of taken a back seat with everything that’s happened since.
“Sort of.” He shrugs again.
I want to know.
I want to know everything he’s not saying. Morgan and I are solid. I’ve decided I don’t care what his fucking secrets are, but I want to get it out of the way so we don’t have to talk around everything.
I want to know Callum.
“Next Saturday.”
It’s Morgan’s turn to frown. “What about it?”
“I’m going to come out to the compound, and you’re going to tell me everything.”
He visibly swallows, eyes widening. “Okay.”
“You still want to, right? You’re still allowed?”
“Yeah. To both those things.” He eyes my wrist. “Want me to come get you?”
“I’ll let you know. I’ve got a hospital appointment on Thursday. I’m hoping I can get this thing off.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
With that out of the way the rest of that afternoon is surprisingly chill.
Like it used to be between us. Like I’m hoping it will be all the time once we get these stupid secrets out into the open.
I don’t know why he can’t just tell me here, but he’s asked me to go to the compound, so that’s what I’m going to do.
He leaves around four, and I spend the rest of the evening with my mum and dad. My mum’s slowly coming to terms with losing her own mum, but of course it’s going to take time.
It’s dark when I leave their house and make the short walk to my converted garage. My gaze flicks to the trees, but like usual, I can’t make anything out beyond the grass border.
I know he’s out there though.
I can feel him watching.
It should probably weird me out, but it has the opposite effect. I like knowing he’s out there. It makes me feel safe.
Protected.
And that’s something I never thought I’d want or be comfortable with. But with him it’s different. I sit on the bench underneath my window. “Hey.”
Nothing.
I give him a few minutes, but nothing happens. It’s not as late as it normally is. Maybe there are biker rules I don’t know about.
“Are you coming in, or do you need to stay out here a while longer?”
Still nothing.
“I get it if you have to follow orders or whatever, but you don’t have to ignore me.” I strain to see any sign of movement, but there’s no breeze tonight and the trees are still. So still I’m starting to question if he really is out there.
Disappointment wars with confusion.
If he’s there, why doesn’t he show himself or at least fucking answer?
I pull out my phone and scroll through the apps, not really paying attention. When another twenty minutes pass with still no sign, I have to admit defeat.
It hurts more than it has any right to.