Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
DREW
Despite the rising tension throughout the club, that night with Ayda had been pretty goddamn special.
Her shy eyes had met mine with uncertainty, and it took everything I’d had within me to scoop her up into my arms carefully without demanding to know why the fuck she didn’t think I’d want to spend the rest of my life with her.
Her shyness hadn’t lasted long, though. The second I’d stripped her of her clothes and lowered my body on top of hers, she’d come to life the way she always did when we were alone and naked.
We worked as a partnership. Before her, I’d been a mess.
Constantly confused and fighting off the old demons.
She’d been certain of her dismal future, resigned almost, fighting off her dreams, which she’d crushed beneath Tate’s needs.
Together we came alive.
Together we were where we were always meant to be.
She gave me life. In return, I gave her everything I fucking had within me. Including my heart.
I kissed her goodbye and left her in bed the next morning.
She wasn’t working her shift at Rusty’s until later, and I was in the throes of battle mode.
Sleep, even though it was next to the girl I loved, was a luxury my mind didn’t allow me to have.
When you were in control of so many lives and other people’s future happiness, having time to rest and settle wasn’t an option.
Alone time became the fuel. With other people around, I couldn’t think clearly, even though I loved them and actually enjoyed their company.
I became jaded by their smiles and their laughter.
My mind would become sloppy, too lost on the road to happiness they were guiding me on.
It was only when I was isolated, running the streets of Babylon at six in the morning, or in the training room, hitting a punch bag with sweat dripping down my spine and my breaths making their own song, that I really became the president that the Hounds of Babylon needed me to be.
Every outcome and option ran through my mind, with the old me—the tactical me—providing clear answers and solutions to every glitch I had the foresight to see.
I should have known Harry would see through my early morning run followed by my gym session that particular morning.
He was becoming more and more like the father figure he’d always been, but he tried to stay away from pushing it in my face.
His cries of son were becoming more frequent, despite him seeing how settled I’d become in my life with Ayda, and as president.
Where once he’d only called me son if it had been a desperate cry for me to pay attention, now he used that term of endearment more than he spoke my actual name.
I’d already run six miles that morning and spent a good hour working on the bag when Harry pushed through the door, grumbling “Morning, son,” through his rough, pre-morning smoke voice.
“Harry,” I wheezed out, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
“Put a fucking shirt on.” He smirked as he staggered in, all hunched and aged and tired looking.
I glanced down at my baggy gray sweatpants and bare, sweaty chest before I looked back up at him and raised a brow. “If you don’t like what you see, Rogers, turn around and leave. I didn’t hand out invitations to this morning’s party.”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a guy with abs and tattoos.”
“If only you could breathe without choking, I might reciprocate.”
Harry held up his hands before he shrugged, coughed, and made his way over to the bench pushed against the wall.
I ignored him for a while. Not because I was trying to be rude, but because he’d watched me train a thousand times before and there was actually something comforting about him being there.
He was a father figure to me, even though he wasn’t actually old enough to be my father for real.
Whenever he focused on me this way, I pushed myself harder, made myself stronger, wanting to please him.
“Your back footing is off,” he eventually called out.
I wheezed as I let my heels fall down on the floor, my chest heaving and my chin rising while I let my gaze linger on his face. “What the fuck?” I gasped, breathlessly.
He pointed with one hand, his other pressed against the bench as he leaned forward. “Pete always told you to watch the weight on that back heel. Too much bouncing, not enough balance.”
“There’s fuck all wrong with my balance.”
“Meh.” Harry shrugged a shoulder.
“Meh?” I scowled, turning my smile down and staring at him hard. “What the fuck does meh mean? You sound like Tate.”
Harry’s smirk rose, his eyes twinkling with mischief before he glanced up at me again and chuckled. “The Hanagans are taking over the Hounds. Who’d have thought it?”
“Not me.” I shook my head, eyes wide as I bounced on my feet again.
“You ain’t Tigger, son. Stand the fuck still for a moment.”
“Harry…” I planted my gloved hands on my hips and turned my full body to him, standing still. “When was the last time you had your dick sucked?”
“About two weeks ago. You?”
I grinned like an idiot at the memories of the night before.
“Oh, fuck off,” Harry spat out, reading my answer without me having to say it. “Is that girl ever off her knees for you?”
I laughed fully that time, throwing my head back and trying to pull in a decent breath. “Oh, I can guarantee you. I’m on my knees more for her than she is for me.”
Harry nodded, his fatherly smile both proud and disgusted as he held my gaze. “Of all the things I’m happiest about in my life, I think seeing you with her is at the top of the list.”
“She’s good for me.”
“She’s not just good for you, Tucker. She’s everything for you. Your dad would be proud. Your mom… hell… that woman would spend all her days crying if she saw you the way I see you now.”
I was about to answer when he started coughing.
Not just lightly, but harshly. It came out of nowhere.
His deep inhalation followed by the breath getting stuck in his throat and his whole body throwing itself into fighting off the phlegm that was sticking to his chest. He went red within seconds.
His hand beat at his body. His nostrils were flared.
His beard was littered with flecks of spit as he wheezed and choked and tried to control himself.
We were all used to seeing Harry coughing by now.
But that morning felt different.
Pushing my gloves off without any fuss, I heard them fall to the floor, but before I even had time to register where they’d landed, I dropped down in front of Harry as he collected his breaths, and I planted my hands on his knees, gripping them tightly.
“What the fuck is going on with you?”
“Jus’ the smokes,” he wheezed, still smacking his chest.
“And the last time you saw Doc?”
“He said I needed to quit.”
I raised a brow and tensed my jaw.
In return, Harry rolled his eyes and held a palm in my face. “I don’t need your shit. I know.”
“You’re scaring me, Rogers, and I don’t scare easily.”
He looked old as I studied him. His skin resembled the leather we all wore every day, and his cheeks had sunk like the reaper on our chests and backs, too.
I was the snappy Hound at the side of him, warning anything harmful to back the fuck off, but what good was that?
The reaper was always the one in charge.
He was the one who decided who lived and who didn’t.
I only had to hope Harry wasn’t giving up on me that easily.
“Tucker,” he said through a long, heavy sigh. “We’ve had this discussion so many times—”
“Then don’t you dare make me say it again.”
“I’m fine.” He wafted a hand around. “Just old.”
“You’re not that fucking old, Harry.”
His eyes snapped to mine, his face losing all humor. “In this life, you’re old before the rest of the world, son. You know that. I know that. We’ve both served time, right? We know how that adds ten years to your life with every year you serve. Those beatings… you remember those?”
I swallowed harshly, feeling my body stiffen as I held onto his legs and nodded.
“You remember the cold?”
My jaw twitched, the muscles flexing as the memories made my bones ache.
He leaned in. “You remember the sounds of those gates closing? The locking of the door? The rattling of the bars as the other inmates tried to create all Hell around you?”
My nostrils flared as my breathing quickened.
“We’ve already lived half our lives, Drew.
And you know what?” His eyes searched mine wildly, a small, almost devilish looking smirk creeping into his cheek.
“I wouldn’t change a damn fucking thing.
Not one. Not the beatings. Not the cold.
Not the sounds of the gates, the door, the rattling…
I’ve loved every second of my life so far.
I’m gonna love every second I have left, whether that’s a day, a year, or a fucking century. ”
“Not a chance, old man.” I smirked in return, even though I didn’t feel at all humorous. I felt deadly. I felt cold. I felt scared.
“Probably not.” He shrugged. “My point is, I’m happy. Please stop trying to change me.”
“I just want—”
“I know.” He cut me off, nodding with understanding.
“I know.” Without a second thought, he wrapped his hand around the back of my head and pulled it to his chest…
and I let him. I let him hold me as I pressed my ear to Harry’s chest and listened to the rattling there.
I could hear his heart, big and strong, pounding against the tight wheezing of his chest. We stayed that way for a while before I lifted my arms and embraced him in a hug that was rare for the two of us but needed.
That was the thing about our family.
We were hard to the outside world.