I used to be able to talk to Priest, too, but ever since Ankh’s death, I’d backed off a little. I didn’t want to burden him with my problems when he was clearly grappling with pain of his own. I understood that kind of grief all too well, and my problems weren’t important enough to warrant taking up his energy.
Blade leaned against the rail of the back porch with a beer dangling loosely from his fingers. Beau and Tru were on the porch as well, and paused in their conversation with Heath, Dante, and Maverick after Blade spoke. Even Priest and Mal glanced up from the grill set up in the yard near the porch.
“Beer, Brennan?” Blade asked as he pulled a bottle from the cooler near his feet. Brennan paused, glancing around the porch like he was deciding if he should stay, but then nodded. He brushed past me to stand next to Blade, accepting the beer with a murmured thanks.
“Brennan did a great job on Stella’s,” Blade explained, pinning me with his discerning gaze. “And now Beau’s house is coming out great, as well. With the clubs coming together, we need a lot more space in the clubhouse, so I’ve hired Brennan and his crew to do some reno.”
Fuck. So that meant Brennan would be around a lot. I leaned back heavily against the exterior of the clubhouse and crossed my legs at the ankle. I knew I had a sour expression, but I didn’t care. I’d already pissed Blade off, so there was no point in sucking up to him now. I still had the half-finished carving in my hand, and I turned it over restlessly, running my fingers over the edges to soothe my nerves.
“As it gets colder, we’re not going to be able to do our training sessions in the backyard,” Blade continued. “So we’re gutting the gym downstairs to make it a lot bigger. Getting rid of that nasty changing room, too, and moving it upstairs. Then after that, we’re going to reno the kitchen so there’s more space and functionality for the size of the club.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “That’s a lot.”
“And after that, depending on the club coffers, we might look into adding a few cabins on the property,” Blade said. “So the new couples can have some onsite privacy.”
It made sense. The Elkin Lake clubhouse had more land than the Crew Motel, and, in all honesty, it was a little nicer. The Crew Motel had more private rooms available, but not nearly as much big, open common space.
Despite the fact that it was Brennan who would be leading these renovations, I was a little excited that they were happening.
“It’s really going to be nice,” Dante said. “I mean, Stella’s looks great. The clubhouse is going to look even better.”
“And it’ll be easier to throw events like this,” Maverick agreed. “Private events at the clubhouse, and public events at Ballast.”
Clearly the inner circle had discussed this already. I wasn’t upset about that—that was their job, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to look at the club books. But since I wasn’t in the inner circle, I didn’t get a real say. Just thinking about the renovations had ideas popping up, though. I could imagine the way I would do it—a big bar and kitchen island in the center, with a natural finish and edges. Like a centerpiece that would fit all of the members at church but wouldn’t look out of place in the space.
But that wasn’t my job in the club. Why would any of them be interested in hearing my ideas? And it’s not like I could offer any real design help beyond the ideas. What would I do as soon as someone asked me how big it should be? I could do it by sense, by feel, but I couldn’t tell them any actual numbers.
It was so fucking embarrassing. I’d dropped out of school at fourteen to help my family take care of my brother, but even before then, my education had fallen by the wayside. I could make my way through the world—street signs, menus if I had enough time, and maps—but I couldn’t read a fucking newspaper if you put a gun to my head. And math was a whole different beast. And it seemed like everyone else in the club had a handle on it. None of us were huge readers, but I’d seen Raven curled up with a novel the size of my head, and Maverick had stacks and stacks of auto magazines.
How would they react when they found out I couldn’t even run the register at Ankhor Works? No one in the club knew my secret—not even Priest. And I wanted to keep it that way. So I’d stay out of this entire conversation about the renovations, even if I had ideas. It wasn’t worth the risk of being found out.
“It’s exciting,” Heath agreed. “A new chapter.”
Dante hummed his agreement and pressed a kiss to the top of Heath’s head. “Yep. We’re excited about it, Brennan, if that wasn’t obvious.”
Brennan grinned, looking a little more at ease now. He was so hot when he smiled—frustratingly hot. Even when he pissed me off, he was still hot. This would be a lot easier to deal with if I wasn’t so fucking horny all the time, but it was a fucking ordeal to get laid now.
“I’m excited to get started on it,” Brennan said. “I like projects like this—big, fun, and a little hard.”
“Yeah, I bet you do,” I said with a smirk. It was thoughtless, automatic, like catching a baseball thrown in my direction. He couldn’t say something like that and expect me not to comment on it.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it didn’t get laughs. Dante rolled his eyes, Maverick sighed, and Blade reached over and swatted me. Brennan just ignored the remark, same as he had in the bathroom.
“Come on, Joker,” Heath said. “Will you grow up?”
“Lighten up,” I sneered back. “You’re in a motorcycle club, not a convent.”
Heath rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer. “Anyway.”
It really, really pissed me off when Heath got in my business like that. I knew it was irrational—he couldn’t help it that he looked so much like my brother, Parker. He didn’t even know about Parker. But they were so similar in appearance and mannerisms. If Parker had lived to see adulthood, he might’ve looked like Heath. It wasn’t fair. Why did Heath get to live and Parker didn’t? Why did I have to be reminded of that every time I saw Heath?
I pushed that thought away. I’d just leave this conversation and go back to my whittling. It’d be easier to deal with the rising swell of grief when I didn’t have to stand here and look at Heath.
Before I could walk away, though, Priest closed the grill pointedly and climbed the stairs to the porch. “Speaking of the renovations,” he said. “I was thinking we might need some updated signage, as well.”
“What do you mean?” Brennan asked.
“Well, we’re no longer Hell’s Ankhor. We’re the Hell’s Ankhor Crew. We should honor that.” Priest rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I was thinking a big wooden sign mounted at the driveway.”
“Oh, love that idea,” Maverick agreed. “So the passersby can see it, too.”
“Exactly,” Priest said. “We’re a big part of this community. The citizens should know where to find us.”
I could see it in my mind now. An immense, single panel of wood with rough edges, and the new logo carved into the center. But I kept my mouth shut.
“Well, wish I could help you with that,” Brennan said. He carded his hand through his dark red hair. “But I’m just a lowly construction guy. I don’t have an eye for the artistic projects like that. More of a woodworker thing.”