“Is Shotgun okay?” I couldn’t help myself. My gut was tightening and twisting, tied up in damn knots, wondering whether I’d said too much this time.
Whether I’d pushed him too far.
One look at that baby boy, and I saw me.
The one person who loved him, who he could rely on, stolen away by this monster. Then, just being left floating with the tide, not knowing if someone was ever going to fish you out and keep you from drowning in the waves.
Some days it still felt like I was floating, but Shotgun had been my anchor. The club too—the place where I finally felt like I wasn’t going to be washed away when the next storm came thundering in. Though the clouds were beginning to grow a little darker around us, and I figured we were about to test just how much stress that anchor could hold.
Meyah slipped into a chair opposite me, leaning forward on her elbows, but before she could even answer the first question, another one slipped out, one that had been itching at the back of my mind since we were at the hospital with Holly. “Who was she? Emma, I mean.”
If Meyah was surprised by the question, she didn’t let it show. “She was a friend me and Dakota knew from school. She was doing nursing, and we called her on the odd occasion when someone got hurt. If you haven’t noticed, these boys aren’t the biggest fans of the hospital system.” There was a slight catch in her voice, and I suddenly realized that Shotgun wasn’t the only one hurting.
“Geez, Meyah, I’m such a fucking idiot,” I scolded myself, reaching across and grabbing her hand. She let out a laugh, but at the same time, the flood of tears released with it, and she quickly dabbed at them with her sleeve. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “It’s just a shock, I think,” she whispered softly, her eyes staring off into the future. “It wasn’t like we were besties or anything, but Emma, she was one of the good ones. And to think not only was she in trouble and we didn’t help, but that she felt as though going through that alone was a better option than just coming to one of us.”
“People do strange things when they’re scared.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, meeting my gaze, the soft look in her eyes sharpening quickly. “Don’t be one of them.”
It was like a punch in the gut, and now I was unable to turn away, to look away, to hide.
“He’s going to need you. Someone strong. Someone who’s going to step up and not run away.” I wasn’t sure if she knew who she was talking to because I wasn’t exactly known for being the stable one. “If you can’t be that person for him, then walk away.”
Ah, there it was.
Technically, Meyah was the top old lady here at the club, so it was up to her to set the record straight when it came to women messing with her men. She had been here since the club in Phoenix was created. She had grown up within the Brothers by Blood MC. It was in her blood and ingrained deep within her heart to protect these men at all costs.
“When it comes to raising children inside the club, these men need someone to have their back,” Meyah continued, her voice stern but gentle as though she was trying to give me the facts but without scaring me off. “They love hard, they make the most amazing fathers, but there isn’t going to be any dress-ups and coochie coos. That’s all private for them. At the clubhouse, there is a certain way they need to be. Need to act. This is their job, and it’s our job to support them, so they can do that.”
My heart was beating faster.
My leg bouncing under the table.
Shotgun was strong, but she was right, he would need support. He is the leader here. He has so much shit on his shoulders already, and he hasn’t even had the regular nine months to prepare for what his life might look like. It’d just been thrown at him, and for a man who likes to control shit like he does, this is going to throw him.
I licked my lips, already feeling a little tingle shooting up my spine, one I knew well and was desperately trying to fight. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not exactly old lady material. What I did out there…”
I talked back.
I called him out.
In front of his brothers.
In front of people who weren’t a part of the club.
I had disrespected him.
She laughed softly, leaning back in her seat. “You definitely weren’t subtle about your feelings toward the situation. But it was what he needed to hear. And that, my dear, is why he is in so fucking deep with you. These men don’t want an old who sits down and shuts the hell up. They want an old lady who isn’t afraid to call them out when they get stuck in their head.”
I shook my head, the denial still very real.
“They want an old lady who will help them make those hard decisions and have their back after.”
Hearing her talk again and again about him wanting me was stirring something in my stomach that made me scramble from my seat and run for the kitchen sink. My gut twisted, and what it thought was me about to be sick was actually me fighting against my own body’s natural urge to breathe.
Struggling to suck in a deep breath of air.
A panic attack.
Fight it!
Just run, get the hell out of there.
You’re in too deep.
You care too much.
If you don’t walk away now, this might be the one you don’t survive.
“Avery…” Meyah murmured with a deep concern. She was looking toward the doors, probably wondering if she should talk to me through it or if she needed to run for help.
“It’s… okay…” I hissed through each wheezy breath, my heart thumping so slow but so hard that I thought any moment it could fucking stop. “I just need to get out of here,” I muttered, forcing my shaking legs to carry me toward the swinging doors.
“Avery, stop! Just sit down,” Meyah pleaded, following me out, her voice full of concern watching me falter and catch myself several times. “Shotgun, do something!”
“Avery!”
I stumbled to a stop at the bottom of the staircase. The way he said my name was like an arrow straight to my heart. A heart that right now couldn’t take any more hurt and was running scared. It was a difficult pill to swallow knowing that there were people trying to love you, trying to care for you, just like you craved someone always fucking would. But anytime they get too close, your first reaction is to shove them away.
I knew things with Shotgun were deeper than I had felt before. What I didn’t know was how natural it was to act like I was his old lady. How natural it felt to stand at his side or to have his back. Or how other people had begun to see it too.
“I need to go out.”
He made his way down the stairs. “Go where?”
“Anywhere,” I said sternly, tucking my shaking hands underneath my arms. “Please.”
His grip on the banister of the stairs was strong, the veins under his skin popping through, making it look like he could rip the damn thing off at any moment. “You going for good?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
Was I?
What really was the plan here?
Like usual, I didn’t fucking have one. My feet itched, my heart raced, and the voice in my head just screamed run.
“Kid goes with you.”
“Shotgu—”