1
Scars leaned against the meeting table at the Vicious Bastards’ clubhouse and grabbed a cigarette out from the inside of his cut. He knew what expression his face probably held.
Hardness. Finally not giving a fuck.
He placed the end of the cigarette between his lips and patted his pockets for his lighter. The sound of the door to the meeting room closing had him looking over his shoulder and seeing Booshie closing them both in.
Well fuck.
“Hey,” Booshie said and gave Scars a chin tilt in greeting.
Scars grunted and lit his cigarette while staring at Booshie.
After lighting the end of the cigarette, he said, “Hey, man.” Scars tossed his lighter on the table, inhaled deeply, and exhaled just as forcefully. After pulling the cigarette away and glancing at it, Scars took one more hit before snubbing it out. “I really need to quit this shit. I told Stella I would, and look at me smoking.”
There was a moment of silence before Booshie responded. “It’s a hard habit to kick.”
Scars nodded and stared at Booshie for long seconds, before finally asking, “What’s up? You look like you got something on your mind.”
Booshie pulled out a chair and sat down a little ways away from him.
Scars looked out the window, waiting for this to be over with. He really didn’t want to get into this with him right now. He knew his VP was probably well aware of the way Scars had been pulling away, retreating into himself.
“Scars.” The sound of Booshie saying his name with exhaustion finally had him turning and facing his brother-in-arms. “I’m your VP, your second in command, and I have known you longer than anyone else in this club.” He left it open like that.
He knew what Booshie was doing. The other man was letting Scars know they were close and therefore needed to trust each other.
Scars sighed, ran a hand through his dark hair, and finally nodded. “Yeah, man, I know. I guess I’m just feeling my age.” And he was. Fuck, he was. He was feeling a hell of a lot more than that, but he didn’t say that outright.
“You act like you’re Ranger’s age.” Booshie grinned, which in turn had Scars smiling too, giving the other man a deep-chested chuckle. “But seriously, what’s up?”
Scars stayed silent a moment then finally pulled the leather chair out at the head of the table and sat down. “I just think I need to get away for a while, maybe head up to the cabin and just relax.”
Booshie nodded. “Not a bad idea. You live and breathe this club, and while that is what we need, you also need time to yourself or you’ll snap and end up taking out a prospect.” He chuckled.
Yeah, and ain’t that the truth. It wouldn't be the first time one of the members kicked a prospect’s ass to let off steam.
Scars stared at his VP for a moment and finally sighed, really fucking feeling his age lately. “Marriage is next, man,” he finally said, knowing Booshie would know what he was talking about.
His little girl was getting married. Well, Stella was a grown woman now, but in his eyes, she’d always be his little girl.
“No shit?”
Scars nodded. “I’m happy for my baby girl. I really am. I feel like a bastard father for feeling this way. I mean, I still remember her running around the clubhouse throwing peanuts at the guys.” Scars started laughing as he pictured that moment.
“Kids have to grow up, man,” Booshie replied after a moment.
“I know, but it makes a guy feel old as shit. It’s like I’m losing the last part of her mother.” That heaviness settled within Scars, and he lifted a hand and rubbed his chest, that ache intensifying. Shit, he wished he could change a lot of shit. It had been a long damn time since he lost his wife, Stella’s mother. She’d been a good woman, strong and understanding, supportive as hell too. She should have never been in this life. They may not have gotten along the majority of the time, and he knew she hated him being in the club, but she stuck it out for their kid.
Then she was gone. Killed by a rival MC that had come seeking retribution. Stella’s mother had been in the wrong place at the very wrong time. Shit, that moment in time had nearly cost Scars his life too.
This life was ugly and violent, but it was all he knew. So after he’d gotten his own revenge, taken out the motherfuckers who’d taken her from him, he’d immersed himself in his club and made sure his daughter always knew she had a family.
Now, she was starting one of her own.
Scars looked over at Booshie and saw the other man shifted in the seat, clearly uncomfortable, because Scars was not a man who showed emotion, and right now, he felt it dripping from him like a leaky faucet.
“Kids grow up, brother, leave the nest, and start their own families.”
Scars knew Booshie was trying to show him the bright fucking side, but right now, he was in a foul place and didn’t want that positivity crap.
So he just nodded. He focused on the wall ahead of him, lost in thought. “They went to The Springs this week, and I know Cadeon plans on proposing.” And I know my baby girl will say yes. She’s in deep with that boy, and I can’t even be mad. He treats her like the queen she is.
“How do you know? I think you’re getting yourself pissed over nothing.”
Scars snorted and glanced at Booshie, focusing on the other man again. “He asked me for permission to marry her, showed me the big fuckin’ ring too.”
Booshie was silent for a moment. “Damn,” he finally muttered.
Yeah, that about summed it up. “Of course Stella doesn’t know, but she’d told me they were talking about it, and then Cadeon came to me before their trip, asked, and pretty much shoved the diamond in my face.” Scars scrubbed a hand over his face. “But she hasn’t said anything to me about it when she called to check in, so I assume he hasn’t asked yet.”
“You’re not losing her,” Booshie said right away, as if to make me feel better. “It isn’t like she’s leaving town with him. Cadeon is rooted in Reckless and respects the hell out of you and the club.”
Scars nodded. “I know, and I’m happy for them. I truly am. But when—if—you ever have a kid and go through this, or lose someone you love, you’ll know what I mean, how I feel right now.” His words must have had Booshie thinking, because the man didn’t say anything for long moments.
“Scars, I look at Stella as if she were my own flesh and blood. I watched her grow from a screaming toddler to a gorgeous woman. But even after that, I know I could never really understand what you’re going through, not after all you lost.”
It was as if Booshie’s words had the scar on his face throbbing, that painful reminder coming up once more. He forgot about it most times… the times he didn’t look at his ugly mug in the mirror. Then it all came rushing back.
As if on instinct, Scars lifted his hand and touched the raised flesh. It was a nasty fucking scar that started right below his left eye and moved all the way down to his jugular. He’d gotten it the night his wife had been killed, the night he almost lost his life too. It was a reminder of that violent evening, the moment his world changed and he became who he was today.
“Take some time off, get your head on straight, and when you come back, everything will be as you left it.”