Chapter 6 — Chuck
I wake up to sunlight cutting through cheap blinds and Isla wrapped around me like she's worried I'll disappear.
Her head is on my chest, one leg thrown over mine, arm across my stomach. Her hair is in my face and her breath is warm on my skin and I can't remember the last time I woke up with someone and wanted them to stay exactly where they are.
Saturday morning. Church at the clubhouse in three hours. I should get up, make coffee, start the day.
Instead I lie still and let myself have this.
Her body is soft everywhere mine is hard, curves pressed against me from chest to thigh. The weight of her is grounding in a way I don't have words for. I run my hand down her back slow and feel her stir, make a small sound against my chest.
"Morning," she mumbles without opening her eyes.
"Morning, darlin'."
"What time is it?"
"Little after seven."
She makes a protesting noise and burrows closer. "Too early."
I grin and keep stroking her back. "Got church at ten. Need to get moving eventually."
"Eventually. Not now."
"No. Not now."
We lie there quiet and I think about how this is the first Saturday in years I've woken up wanting to stay in bed. Usually I'm up at dawn, at the clubhouse early, getting work done before church starts. But right now the work can wait.
Her hand moves on my stomach, fingers tracing the scar from Tulsa without seeming to realize she's doing it. I watch her face in the morning light and try to figure out what I'm doing here. What she's doing here. What any of this means past Sunday.
Can't come up with answers that make sense so I stop trying.
Around seven-thirty she lifts her head and looks at me with sleep-heavy eyes. "I should probably go back to my rental. Get clothes for church."
"Or you could wear what you wore last night."
"I'm not showing up to meet your entire club in jeans and a tank top that spent the night on your floor."
"Fair point." I run my hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. "Want company? I could follow you over, wait while you change, we go to the clubhouse together."
She considers that. "You sure you want to show up with me? Make it that obvious?"
"Darlin', I'm bringing you to church. It's already obvious."
"Right. Yeah." She sits up and the sheet falls to her waist. Morning light catches on her skin and I'm very aware she's completely naked and very beautiful and I have about two and a half hours before I need to be anywhere.
She sees where my eyes go and smiles. "Don't even think about it. We don't have time."
"We have some time."
"Chuck—"
I sit up and pull her into my lap in one smooth motion. She gasps and her thighs bracket my hips and I can feel the heat of her against me already. "We have some time," I say again.
She looks at me for about three seconds. Then she kisses me and any argument she was planning dies there.
We end up back in bed and it's faster than I'd like, urgent and necessary, her riding me while I grip her hips and watch her body move above me in the morning light. When she comes apart gasping my name I follow her over and we collapse together breathing hard.
"Okay," she says after. "Now we really need to go."
We shower separately because together would make us late and I'm already pushing it. I find clean jeans and a black tee while she gets dressed in last night's clothes. Her hair is still damp when we head out.
The ride to her rental takes ten minutes and I follow her inside while she changes. The place looks more temporary than it did Thursday night. Her suitcases are against the wall, mostly packed. The few items she'd spread around are gone now, put away, like she's already preparing to leave.
Sunday. Tomorrow.
I push the thought away.
She comes out of the bedroom in clean jeans that hug her curves and a dark green shirt that makes her eyes stand out. Hair pulled back, minimal makeup. She looks good and I tell her so.
"You clean up nice yourself," she says.
"I hope so.” I smirk, “Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
The clubhouse is busier when we arrive than it was yesterday. Bikes lined up out front, trucks parked in the gravel lot. Brothers and their women heading inside. I spot Clint's bike, Tate's, Cain's, Roan's, all the main brothers.
Isla's hand finds mine as we walk toward the building and I squeeze once before letting go. Inside we'll be visible, under observation, part of the club dynamic whether we're ready or not.
Inside it smells like coffee and motor oil same as always. The main room is filling up, brothers standing in groups talking, women gathered near the bar in back. Katherine sees us first and waves. Isla waves back and some of the tension in her shoulders eases.
Clint's leaning against the wall talking to Tate when he spots us. His eyes track from me to Isla and back. He doesn't say anything but he nods once. Approval. Or at least acknowledgment.
Tate follows Clint's gaze and grins. "Brought someone to church, Chuck. That's new."
"Trying new things."
"Good for you." Tate offers his hand to Isla. "Good to see you again."
"You too."
Katherine appears and pulls Isla away toward the other women.
Sydney's there, Clint's woman, and she takes point on introductions.
I watch Isla get absorbed into the group and feel something settle.
The women in this club take care of their own.
If Isla's here with me, she's under that umbrella now whether she fully understands it or not.
Cain materializes at my elbow with his laptop. "She stayed."
"Observant."
"It's my job." He looks at Isla across the room. "You bringing her means something. You know that."
"Yeah. I know."
"And Sunday?"
"We'll figure it out."
He doesn't push, just nods and moves off. Knox appears next, older brother I've known fifteen years. He doesn't say anything, just looks at Isla, then at me, then grins and claps me on the shoulder hard enough it hurts.
"About damn time," is all he says before walking away.
Church starts at ten sharp. Everyone gathers around the long table, brothers in their usual spots, women in chairs along the walls. Isla sits between Katherine and Sydney and looks more comfortable than I expected.
Clint runs the meeting efficient as always. Business first. Tate reports on street activity. I give an update on Marrow movements, including last night's incident. When I describe the kid with the knife, Clint's expression goes hard.
"They're probing," Clint says. "Testing our response time, our willingness to engage. That message about Crane being tired of playing defensive? That's not posturing. He's planning something."
"What do you want to do?" Roan asks.
"Double the watches. Two-man rotations on high-value targets. The Anchor, the school, main roads in and out of town. Nobody rides alone until we know what Crane's planning." Clint looks at me. "Chuck, keep working your contacts. I want to know where Crane is, what he's doing, who he's talking to."
"Already on it."
"Good." Clint's eyes flick briefly to Isla, then back to me. "And anyone bringing family to church for the first time, I want a word after."
Family. The word lands heavier than it should.
Church breaks up around eleven-thirty. The women drift back to the bar area where someone's brought pastries. Brothers cluster in groups talking shop. Clint gestures me toward his office and I follow.
Inside he closes the door and leans against his desk, arms crossed. "You bringing her here means something."
"You already said that."
"I'm saying it again so you understand. She's Vigil family now. Under club protection. That's not casual, Chuck. That's permanent until you say otherwise."
"I understand."
"Do you? Because in twenty-five years you've never brought a woman to church. Not once. And now you bring someone you've known three days?" He watches me steady. "So I'm asking. This serious or are you working through something?"
The question is fair. I take a second to find honest words. "I don't know yet. But I know I wanted her here. Wanted her to see this, understand it, meet everyone. Wanted her safe if things with Marrow escalate."
"She leaving Sunday?"
"That's the plan."
"And then what?"
"Don't know. We're figuring it out."
Clint studies me for a long moment. "This about filling that hole or is this about her specifically?"
"Both probably." I meet his eyes. "But mostly her."
He nods slowly. "Alright. Just know what you're doing. For her sake and yours." He pushes off the desk. "And Chuck? If this is real, don't let Sunday be the end of it. We've lost enough brothers to being alone. Don't be the next one."
We head back out and Isla's laughing at something Sydney said. When she sees me she smiles and it does something to my chest I'm not ready to examine.
Around noon people start drifting out. Isla and I stay, talking with Katherine and Tate about nothing important. Easy conversation. Comfortable. Like she fits here.
Around one we leave. Back at her rental I help her finish packing her suitcases even though Sunday is tomorrow and she doesn't actually need to pack yet. It gives us something to do with our hands while we talk about nothing and everything.
"So that's church," she says, folding a shirt. "Not what I expected."
"What'd you expect?"
"I don't know. Something more intimidating? But it was just... family. People who care about each other."
"That's what it is. Club first, always, but we take care of our own."
She's quiet for a moment. "Sydney said if I need anything while I'm in Bloomfield, all I have to do is ask. Katherine said the same thing. That's because you brought me to church?"
"Yeah. You're under protection now. Anyone threatens you, the club handles it."
"That's intense."
"That's the club."
She sits on the bed surrounded by half-packed clothes. "Chuck, what are we doing? Really? Because I leave tomorrow and we're acting like we have all the time in the world."
I sit next to her, close enough our thighs touch. "Honestly? I don't know. But I know I'm not ready for you to leave yet."