Chapter 27
Nova
Ithink it’s the quiet that wakes me up. It’s the first time since I’ve been at the clubhouse where there’s not someone making noise of some kind.
There’s no music blaring, no one shouting about church.
No one’s calling for tools or weapons. Not everyone in the MC likes mornings, but there’s always an overlap of people who get up early and the ones who haven’t gone to bed yet, so there’s generally at least one or two people up at any given point.
After Meridian ran last night, Creed checked in to make sure Layla and I were okay and to tell us that it was all over.
Patch stuck with Layla as I went with Creed to check on the men who were hurt during the fight.
The injuries were small and I finished with them before the bodies in the parking lot were buried.
Some of the guys wanted to celebrate, and I stayed with Creed for an hour or two before claiming I was too tired to stay up any longer.
He came to bed with me and, to my surprise, he’s still there, one of his arms draped over my waist. Him still being here is enough to tell me that things really are better.
The war between Meridian and the MCs is really over.
I don’t know if that’s a permanent thing, but for right now, at least, it’s done.
This should be the point when I’m thinking about my life going back to normal, but I don’t think there’s a normal to go back to, not anymore.
Layla has Patch, and I don’t see that relationship changing any time soon, so he’s a part of my family’s future.
And my family has changed in another way, too.
Uncle Marty’s gone.
Creed told me about the deal he made with my uncle, and then, at some point last night, Crusher and Trigger personally escorted Uncle Marty to the town line.
I’m not sad about him being kicked out of Pine Ridge or the death sentence he’ll face if he comes back.
I might be able to forgive him betraying me, but what he put Layla through, what he intended to do to her, is unforgiveable.
Honestly, I might be capable of killing him myself if he ever shows up again.
But him being gone does change things. Layla and me struggled a lot growing up, but we always knew Uncle Marty had our backs. Learning that he only cared about himself hurts, and knowing I’ll have to adjust how I approach problems is one more reminder of how different things are going to be now.
But that’s all coming later. Right now, in this very moment, I’m warm and safe. I don’t have to worry about anything because the man holding me is going to take care of me, protect me. This, in a dangerously tempting moment, is my life.
Except it’s not.
Even without the now-familiar sounds of the MC coming to life below us, reality still invades, just like it always does. Monday morning comes. Holidays end. Vacations come to a close. Bills are due and work needs to be handled.
I carefully slip out of bed, managing to make it to the bathroom without waking Creed.
He’s still sleeping when I come out, dressed and ready for life to move on.
Before I take that first step into the world outside this room, however, I take a moment to memorize this picture.
My strong, sexy biker getting his well-deserved rest after saving me and my sister.
I don’t let myself dwell on what it means that I think of him as mine. It’s one more way my life isn’t the same as it was before I drove past those gates, and I’m not prepared to figure any of that out just yet.
Feeling the sudden need for some grounding, I go looking for Layla.
She’s not in her room, so I go downstairs to the main room where several Kings are scattered around the room, eating and not really doing much else.
It’s not like anyone’s depressed, just drained, and I completely get that.
I spot Layla easily enough because Patch is hard to miss as he hovers over her.
She’s wrapped in one of his hoodies, looking up at him with complete adoration.
As I watch, his hand lightly touches her shoulder like he can’t help himself, but it’s clear it’s not just for him.
I didn’t even know she was tense until I see her relax and lean into him.
I told him yesterday that I see him for the good man he is, but now, I can see something else.
Knowing my sister the way I do, I know now what first drew her to him—besides the obvious physical appeal.
He acts like she’s the sun. He orbits around her, making her the center of everything for him.
And since he proved he’s willing to give up his bike and the club for her, it’s clear it’s not just infatuation.
For someone whose childhood was defined by a father who couldn’t give up crime for his family, and a mother who won’t give up alcohol for her daughters, having someone choose her is everything.
I’ve never seen her look as happy as she is right now, and I decide to wait to talk to her.
I go into the kitchen to find something to eat, and by the time I’m done, Creed’s come downstairs and called for church.
A minute or so later, Layla comes into the kitchen, not looking even a little surprised to see me.
She makes herself a cup of coffee and then comes over to sit next to me at one of the barstools someone pulled in here.
“Patch is going to be fine,” I say as she sips at her coffee. “He’s a good man, and that’s important to the Kings.”
“He’s a great man,” Layla corrects with a smile.
“You’re right,” I agree. After a brief pause, I ask, “Are you happy? You look happy, but I don’t want to assume anything.”
I don’t add that her not telling me about Patch has me second-guessing myself when it comes to knowing what she’s thinking, but I can see in her eyes that she understands.
“I am happy,” she says. “Despite all of the bullshit that happened, I can’t wish that things were different.”
I understand that more than she might realize, but I don’t say it, wanting to hear what else she has to say.
“It’s not only Patch,” she says. “It’s all of the Kings. Being a part of them because of Patch. It feels like… family. Like I belong, you know?”
“I do know.” I smile. “And I’m really happy for you.”
I take a drink of my coffee as Layla grins at me and says, “You know Creed’s completely gone for you, right?”
I nearly choke and end up coughing while Layla laughs. When I finally get myself under control, I say, “I know we like each other and he’s one of those growly, possessive men. But he’s not the sort to make emotional speeches, so I don’t know exactly how he feels.”
Layla rolls her eyes in the universal gesture all little sisters master. “He pretty much started a war for you, Nova. He never would’ve gone after Meridian the way he did if it wasn’t for you.”
“He would’ve gone after Patch and you anyway,” I protest.
“Yeah,” Layla agrees, “but he wouldn’t have done what he did yesterday. He did that because Uncle Marty threatened you. He wasn’t going to let that go.”
Warmth spreads through my chest at her words.
“I’m pretty sure being willing to kill for you is proof that he loves you.”
That warmth turns to ice, and I feel my smile falter.
Layla thinks Creed’s actions means he loves me, but he’s never said those words.
He’s protected me, taken care of me. He’s touched me like I mean something to him, and he’s even said I’m his, but he’s the president of this club.
All of the Kings of Ruin are his. So are the women who hang around and sleep with all the bikers.
He says an old lady is different than a club bunny, but I don’t know how he really sees me.
Because he’s never asked to make it real, never asked me to stay.
Like Layla, I’ve always wanted someone to choose me, and while Creed has done that in some ways, this thing between us has had a time limit on it from moment one. It’s never been a long-term thing, let alone a permanent one.
The truth painfully settles in my chest. If I stay, when Creed moves on, I’ll just be another Bunny, sitting around the clubhouse, waiting to be chosen by someone who doesn’t want me the way I want him.
Maybe, if I thought I could be satisfied with any biker, it would be okay, but I can’t imagine being with Crusher or Ace or Vandal the way I am with Creed.
They’re good men, too, but they’re not… mine.
I see my future stretching out in front of me. A future where I look at other women the way Tasha looks at me. Where I can only watch when Creed takes an old lady for real and everyone else in the MC treats me with pity because they can see why I stayed.
Before I can go further down that dark spiral, Patch walks into the kitchen, a dazed expression on his face. A flash of fear goes across Layla’s face, but I’m not worried. Creed will have done the right thing, and I know that means Patch isn’t going to be kicked out.
“Three months,” Patch says before he gives himself a little shake. A smile lights up his face. “Prez shortened my probation. I’ll be patched in, in three months.”
Layla bursts into tears, but there’s no mistaking them as anything but happy tears as she throws herself at Patch.
From the main room comes a roar of cheers and clapping, and it quickly becomes clear the men are shouting for Patch.
He’s busy kissing Layla for a full minute, but once he’s done, he swings her around and then carries her out of the kitchen.
I’m glad for him. Really, I am. But as I watch the pair disappear into the sea of biker testosterone, I’m hit with a longing to join them, intense enough to hurt. Those men have become like family, and like Layla, I feel like I belong here too.
Except I don’t. Layla has been invited by Patch to be part of this world, but my invitation is conditional, and that condition has been met.
My time here is up, and if I keep hanging around, waiting for something to change, I’m going to overstay my welcome.
With Layla being involved with Patch, chances are I’ll see most of these guys again, and I don’t want them to think of me as someone who didn’t know when to let go.
I hold all of that inside, though, and go out to congratulate Patch.
The rest of the day is a blur as I wait for the moment I can slip out and quietly make my exit.
I’ve barely spoken to Creed today, which makes me think I’m doing the right thing.
I know he’s busy after everything that’s gone down and I truly understand.
But it also makes me realize this isn’t my world anymore.
I don’t want to call attention to my leaving.
It’ll just make people ask questions and put both me and Creed in awkward positions.
I also don’t want to put a damper on how happy everyone is, so I muster as much enthusiasm as I can, smile and pretend that everything’s great.
And as the sun sets and one of the guys turns on some music, I know it’s time.
Some of the Vipers have arrived and things are gearing up for a party, and I’m not sure I can keep up this mask much longer.
With everyone’s attention elsewhere, I head back up to my room—the guest room—where my things are waiting to be packed up again.
I focus on each part of what I’m doing and it’s the only way I can keep from crying.
My chest is tight and every breath is a struggle.
I don’t want to do this, but I keep making myself move my clothes into a suitcase, put my toiletries in my bag.
I don’t want to give the club any reason to regret inviting me in, so I wipe down everything in the bedroom and start stripping everything off the bed.
Even with my hands busy and me trying to concentrate on what I’m doing, I can’t stop the memories from creeping in on me.
The calm confidence on Creed’s face when he told me he would find my sister.
Laughing and trading barbs with Crusher
The warm feel of his hand on the small of my back.
Holding Stray’s life in my hands and knowing the men trusted me to save him.
The weight of Creed’s solid body moving over mine.
How my arms around his waist made riding a motorcycle feel safe.
Tracing his tattoos with my fingertips.
The way this place feels like home.
I close my eyes as the pain in my chest turns from pressure into a knife, and I’m still standing there, trying to hold myself together, when I hear the creak of the door.
I open my eyes as Creed walks in. His eyes immediately drop to the bags on the bare mattress, and something flickers across his face before his expression freezes into a mask.
“What are you doing?” The question is quiet and careful, making it impossible for me to read.
I can barely squeeze the answer out past the lump in my throat. “Our… arrangement is over.”
In the silence that follows, I count the beats of my breaking heart and wait. I don’t know what I expect him to say, only that I need him to speak before I crack completely.
“You’re leaving?”
Wait. What?