“My man knocked me up, so I’m having a little trouble with the whole maneuvering thing,” I warn him.
“Do the best you can, Beauty,” he tells me, his lips twitching.
I twist in my seat and lean toward him. He ends up pulling me into him and taking my mouth. Before we’re done, I curse the console between us.
“Daddy kissed Mommy,” Ryker laughs.
“Gross,” Connor mutters. I look up at Michael, my face red, but I do it smiling. Michael is grinning down at me.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“Love you, Beauty. More than anything, understand?”
I nod. I know he has a message he’s trying to deliver. I get it. I also know that our family means as much to him as it does to me. Which is to say, it’s the whole world. I’ve never doubted that, not once.
“Good. Never forget.”
“I won’t,” I vow.
“Then, let’s go get settled.”
He doesn’t tell me what he thinks about coming back to the club full time, but that’s okay. I truly am fine either way. Whatever Michael decides, we will be together.
That’s all that matters.
Skull
“Fuck, hermano, it’s damn good to see you,” I growl at Beast as his hand goes in mine, clapping together, hands wrapped tight. We slap each other on the shoulders in understanding. Beast may not be my brother by blood, but he is my brother in every fucking way that counts. Not having him here in the club, not seeing him every day, is a fucking wound that has cut deep and continues to fester.
I feel like I let my brother down. I feel like… his pain, his agony is a part of me because ultimately, I am the one responsible. As president of the Blaze, I’ve carried a lot of fucking guilt over the years. Knowing that my actions, my love for Beth cost Beast everything….
That’s a fucking guilt that eats me alive, and lives and breathes deep inside of me.
Beast clears his throat, looking at me. What I see nearly causes me to rock backwards on my feet. He looks… good. He looks like the man he was… the man he was before losing his daughter.
“Good to see you, too,” he says, clearing his throat.
“You guys going to weep like pussies, or is this a party anyone can join?” Torch asks, coming up to us.
“Asshole,” Beast mutters, as they slap their hands in a combination high-five angled to the side and a handshake. “I see you haven’t changed.”
“Just getting prettier,” Torch laughs. “Just getting prettier. It’s good to see your sorry ass, man. It’s been too fucking long.”
“Beast, it’s good to see you, but damn, you’re getting old,” Sabre says, joining the mix.
“Fuck off,” Beast laughs.
“Good to see you,” Latch says a little more quietly. His face shows none of the easy laughter it used to. Something is fucking with that man’s head. Then again, he’s been stationed overseas and even if we don’t know it here in the states—he’s at war every day, fighting for his life.
I look across the room as Beth, Katie and Annie take Hayden into their circle. Hayden looks nervous, almost timid. I never pictured Beast with someone like that, but it’s clear to see my brother loves her. Hell, even while talking to us, his eyes clock her every few seconds.
The other men disband. I wrap my arm around Beast’s back.
“Let’s grab a beer and you can tell me how you’re doing,” I mutter.
He gives one last glance at Hayden. I catch her looking at him out of the corner of my eye. I watch as she smiles at him. When she’s looking at him, it’s plain she doesn’t see anyone else is in the room but him.
I know that look. I know it because it’s the same look that Beth gives me. Maybe I’ve been judging Hayden all wrong…
Hayden
“You’ve got to quit staring at Beast. I swear he’s not going anywhere,” Beth laughs. I look at her, only slightly embarrassed.
“Sorry, habit. Every time I hear him laugh, I know he’s smiling, and I have to look and take it in.”
“He is laughing more this time than he did your last visit,” she responds. I feel a little squeeze in the vicinity of my heart. I know Michael is happier. I also know that he’s let go of the wounds of his past, but it always helps to have someone else confirm it.
“He is. He laughs all the time now. He doesn’t even realize the change… but I do.”
I whisper that last part, feeling the words so deeply that it’s hard to explain. Michael has changed so much, but every single day I notice it and feel it.
“What’s he doing these days?”
“Doing?”
“Well, he’s not working for the club. I don’t know because I’m not part of their inner sanctum, but I imagine he’s not taking part of the club’s money now. Does he work?”
“Jesus, Katie,” Beth growls.
“What? I’m just curious. I mean Hunter loves the club. He’d be bored out of his ever-loving mind without it. I’m just wondering what Beast is up to. That’s all.”
“He’s running a garage, building custom bikes,” I tell her, watching her closely.
“And he’s happy with that?” Katie asks. About that time, At the moment, Michael starts laughing. My eyes go to him to watch as he looks down at Ryker, who is pulling on his beard. I look back at Katie.
“Yeah, he’s happy,” I answer. She’s frowning, but she’s not looking at me. She’s watching Michael and Ryker. Then, slowly her head turns, and she takes in Connor playing with B.B.
“I can see that,” she mutters.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I tell her. Beth squeezes my hand in silent support.
“Do what?” she asks, trying to appear innocent—but not looking me in the eye.
“I know about the talk Skull wants to have with Michael,” I tell her.
Katie looks at me. Then her eyes look down at Beth’s hand on mine. She lets out a deep breath.
“Damn it, Bethie! Next time let me know!”
“I didn’t know you were going to go all bitch-fest on Hayden,” Beth mutters.
“I was not bitch-fest! You take that back. Was I bitch-fest, Hayden?”
“Umm…” I stay out of it and don’t really make a reply. Her comment about Michael not working and getting money from the club was abrasive. Besides, it wasn’t really her business. I hold my tongue though. I don’t want to make waves here—it’s just not the time.
“Okay, maybe I was,” she concedes. “I just know that Hunter has his heart set on getting his brother back and I was trying to help with that,” she mutters. “They talk about us women, but let me tell you girls something, men are such PMS-whiney-babies when they want something and aren’t getting it,” she complains.
“You aren’t wrong. I swear sometimes I want to sneak Midol into Skull’s coffee.”
“Skull drinks coffee?” I ask, surprised.
“Well, yeah.”
“I thought he might be a beer or whiskey only kind of man. He has too much testosterone for plain coffee,” I mutter, immediately embarrassed.