Chapter 26
We were throwing a pig roast.
“If you’re about done with that, I’ve got a spot for it,” said Sofia as she breezed by me, her hands laden with no less than six bags of Hawaiian sweet rolls.
I jammed the serving spoon into the middle of the salad and wrapped my arms around the bowl, following her out of the back kitchen and through the lounge, toward the front entrance.
The smell of smoked pork, grilled hamburgers, and charcoal filled the cool, early autumn air.
Near the picnic tables they always kept out front was a long folding table where the food was being served.
Classic Rock blared from big speakers, and the guys had carried out a few of the indoor couches for extra seating around the fire pit.
Most of the Stallions were in attendance, a few hang-arounds too, the club sheep doing their part to help finish set-up.
Somehow, all the hubbub made it easy to forget the conflict stirring outside the safe boundaries of the compound.
The unmistakable sound of a herd of bikers approaching caught my attention. At first, the reverberation of so many engines approaching made me nervous. Then I realized our new arrivals were friends, not foes.
They were brothers.
They were…familiar.
“The cavalry’s here,” announced Sofia to no one in particular.
Glancing at her, I saw as she looked on with a crooked smile.
“You knew they were coming?”
“Yeah,” she said, meeting my gaze. “They’re here to help put this issue with the Kings to bed. It’s why we’re having a roast—to disguise the arrival of ten more Stallions. Pistol didn’t tell you?”
“No,” I breathed, looking back at the neighboring brood. “He didn’t.”
It was Maverick I identified first, at the front of the pack. As Road Captain, I would have assumed it was him—but it was his long, curly hair piled in a bun on top of his head that truly gave him away.
Wrangler was flanked to his right, with Mustang on his left. Bull was the next to plant his feet, pivot his front wheel, and lower his kickstand.
And then I saw him.
Twister.
It felt like my stomach bottomed out at the sight of him, and I stopped trying to see which other Stallions came, stuck on the one I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again.
If I stopped long enough to think about it—really think about it—I would have imagined this day.
If not today, at some point in the future, I was bound to rub shoulders with the men from other chapters.
I was married to a Stallion, now. Pig roasts, cookouts, biker rallies—the brothers would gather like they always did.
Except, I’d been a wife for all of four weeks, and not a normal four weeks by a long-shot. I didn’t see this coming. And if I was being honest, it occurred to me right then, I wasn’t ready for it.
It wasn’t longing I felt at the sight of Twister. Neither was it sadness. But it was a shock to the system. My old world and my new world were colliding. While I wasn’t afraid of the things Twister might say to Riley, my secrets already exposed to the man I loved, I was unprepared.
Unprepared for the reminder of him.
Unprepared for the moment after.
It was three years gone by, but I still remembered our last encounter.
I still remembered his awful perception of me—remembered how my love had somehow gone unnoticed.
“Angel?”
With a quiet gasp, I twisted my neck in search of the man to whom I belonged.
He was standing a few feet away, his kutte missing from his shoulders, his front covered in a black apron that did hardly anything to cover his broad chest. He’d been hard at it most of the day, part of the crew in charge of smoking the whole pig.
His fascination for cooking shows had never made more sense.
However, at present, he seemed more interested in me than the main dish.
He crooked a finger, silently beckoning me to close the distance between us, and I didn’t deny him.
“You good?”
The easiest answer was a lie, but I didn’t want to lie to him.
Down in Big Sky, I confessed my affiliation with the Gillette chapter, but I never mentioned Twister. I didn’t tell him why I moved back home; why I got a job; why I changed my life. I didn’t tell him it was heartbreak that drove me to it, and now didn’t feel like the time to mention it.
Moreover, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted him to know.
What I once felt for Twister paled in comparison to what I had with Riley. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t seem worth mentioning.
Unfortunately, that didn’t change how much I still felt unprepared.
“You didn’t tell me they were invited.”
“Wasn’t born yesterday, Ly. Figured you wouldn’t show if you knew.”
The sound of Shepherd’s old, familiar laughter rang out, snatching my attention, and I looked once more to see the crew dispersing throughout our crowd. Unintentionally, my eyes found Twister again. This time, he saw me. I knew he didn’t recognize me at first.
It was his double take that gave it away.
I shifted my attention back up at my husband, not wishing to watch the full dawning of his awareness of me. Riley lifted an eyebrow, silently reiterating his comment, and I sighed in defeat, annoyed he was right. Annoyed I somehow let myself become a coward.
I was pulled from my thoughts when Riley grabbed hold of my face before edging closer to me.
Speaking hardly louder than a hush, he admitted, “Things with me and Prez are on the mend, but in spite of what people might see from the outside lookin’ in, this shit storm we’ve got rainin’ down on us is heavy.
We might be partyin’ tonight, but that does not mean we’re not all on edge.
“Don’t know which of my brothers have been inside you.
Don’t care to know, either. As far as I’m concerned—hell, as far as every fucker here is concerned—you’re mine.
Ring on your finger means if I want my woman by my side, on my lap, or laid out across the poker table, legs spread for my mouth then you’ll be there.
Not gettin’ through this shit without my angel. You hearin’ me?”
Now, my heart was racing for entirely different reasons.
“Mmhmm,” I managed, my words swallowed up by the thought of Riley’s head between my thighs in a room full of bikers.
I didn’t feel so cowardly anymore.
Then I wasn’t thinking anything.
Riley’s mouth pressed down against mine before prying my lips open with his tongue. He kissed me deep and long, with a possessiveness that left my thong soaked.
He was claiming me.
He was marking me.
Fuck, but I loved him.
I was practically panting when he pulled away. His fingers buried in my hair, he kept me close as he commanded, “Go fix your lipstick, babe. Grab me a beer on your way back, yeah?”
“K,” I breathed.
He didn’t let me go at first, his dark green eyes roaming freely around my face before a small smile curled one corner of his mouth.
He then tugged on my hair, forcing my chin up, giving him the space to dip his head and trace the tip of his tongue up the length of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
I knew he felt it when he chuckled softly as he released me.He then turned on the heel of his boot, headed back for the smoke pit.
I watched him go, taking a moment to catch my breath, then strolled inside in a daze—Twister now the furthest thing from my mind.
It was after everyone had eaten their fill; after every ranked member in attendance from both the Gillette chapter and the Missoula chapter disappeared to round-table while the rest of us cleaned up the food; after the sun was set, the moon was shining, and the drinks flowing when I found myself settled across Riley’s lap, the two of us on one side of the fire pit.
Even with the beer he was nursing in his hand, he still had me wrapped in his arms, shielding me from the cool night wind.
Nighthawk and Viv were on a bench beside us, Nighthawk’s legs straddled on either side, with Viv stretched out in front of him, her back propped against his chest. In spite of everything, the night was helping ease the tension they both wore on their faces.
For now, Max was safe and assistance was present, allowing them to kick back with the rest of us.
Nomad sat on our other side, Reaper’s chin resting atop his thigh as she dozed—lulled by the slow, repetitive stroke of his fingers along her back.
Across from us was where Shep, Bull, Twister, and Mustang were settled.
I couldn’t say if it was my short hair, the ring on my finger, or the fact that I hadn’t left a lasting impression that was to blame for Shep not recognizing me, but I could tell he didn’t.
I sensed early on Mustang remembered me, yet—true to my memory of him—he was a man of few words and didn’t say as much.
It was Bull, in that way which could only be described as his, who was the first to openly acknowledge me.
He waited for a lull in the conversation, then leaned forward, his slight movement causing the gravel to crunch beneath his boots, earning him my attention—exactly what he was after.
He dipped his chin, subtly nodding toward me before he drawled, “See you found your way.” He paused, raised his beer, and added, “Good for you,” then drank.
A toast.
For me.
I didn’t know what to say.
To my surprise, Twister spoke up next, saving me from having to think of something.
“Last time I saw you, you were in cuffs. Surprised the hell out of me to find you here, sportin’ that ring.”
My body betrayed me, my spine stiffening at his first word aimed in our direction, but Riley didn’t miss a beat. He tightened his hold around me and shot back, “Yeah, well, last I heard you’re a dad. Never saw that comin’.”
I watched, completely and utterly fascinated, as Twister’s expression softened in a way I’d never seen before.
He breathed a quiet laugh then announced, “Got another on the way.”
“Oh, I didn’t know Phoenix was pregnant again,” chimed in Viv. “Congratulations.”
The conversation shifted from there, but I didn’t follow it, stuck in the previous one.
It wasn’t so long ago that I forgot what it felt like to hear her name.
I resented her as much as I envied her. Back then, I was convinced she stole him from me and he let her.
But there was something about the look on his face—the contentment Twister found in the family he was making with Phoenix—I didn’t even feel the residue of resentment.
For the first time, I understood she was meant for him, and I would likely never have found the man meant for me had the two of them not sent me running.
As the night wore on, the party inside grew rowdier, like they always did.
Rather than feed the fire, we let it die, giving us the excuse to join the others.
But as we got up, Riley circled his arm around my waist, pulling me close, my back pressed against his chest. He lowered his face until his lips grazed my ear.
“Had enough company for one night. Give me a few minutes with my girl, then I’m takin’ you to bed.”
More than happy to oblige, I agreed, took his empty beer bottle, and followed the others inside. I went straight for the bar, intent on tossing our bottles in the bin. No sooner were my hands empty than Twister appeared, propped up against the corner of the bar.
“Hey,” he said, only loud enough for me to hear him over the music.
It was the first time he spoke directly to me all night—but no one was paying attention to us, so I didn’t think he intended to cause a scene, exposing me as he once warned he could.
“Hey,” I called back tentatively.
He leaned against the elbow closest to me, shortening the distance between us. I could smell him—the cedar and amber filling my nose like a flashback to another time in another place.
“You seem happy.”
I flinched away from him in surprise, wishing to see his face. Like he had been all night, it read nothing short of cordial, so I offered him my honesty in return.
“I am.”
“I’m glad. I mean that.”
He rapped his knuckles against the bar top twice before he walked away. My eyes followed him on his journey to the game of pool on the far side of the room.
While I was taken aback by his comment, it wasn’t as simple as surprise. In a way I didn’t know I needed, it felt as though he’d released me—freed me from the shame and guilt I carried. He knew, better than most, the lengths I went to earn his attention. And in the end, it disgusted him.
But his acceptance of me now left me unburdened.
Fact of the matter was, he didn’t know me.
Not really. Not now and not then. What we had, what we shared, it was shallow.
I somehow built so much of who I was around a situationship—something that was never going to be as real as I wanted it to be.
Understanding that, I could leave the past where it belonged.
What Viv told me was right. What mattered more than who I once was, was who I wanted to be—the woman I intended to be.
I was choosing this path. I was choosing to be Mrs. Wells, and there was no power left in my history to haunt me anymore.