Forever stuck there.
This weird limbo.
Tears trickled silently down my cheeks as I tied my shoes.
“Happy birthday.”
I should have known better than to try and escape him, try to hide my bullshit from the one person in this entire place that had already known just exactly what this day of the year does to me. I looked up, this gorgeous specimen of a man standing over me, beautiful, sexy, strong, and loyal. And to top it off—he loved me.
I got to my feet, our bodies a mere few inches apart, and my throat so clogged with emotion I’m not sure the words I wanted to say would even come out. “If I’m still broken now, at a point in my life when I have more love surrounding me than ever before… am I ever really going to feel fixed?”
“What needs fixing?”
“The pain,” I murmur. “This pain I feel in my chest when I think of her. It’s my birthday. I should be happy. I should be celebrating, but it just hurts.”
Shotgun reached out, brushing my hair back from my face and swiping at the tears that just wouldn’t stop coming. “Who the hell said we need to fix being sad about the people we miss?” He cupped my face in his hands and pulled me in, the warmth of his skin seeping through my thin shirt, this comforting heat that radiated off him, instantly sweeping me up and wrapping me tightly.
“Let it hurt. Think about her. Remember her. And just feel the fucking pain that comes with missing the hell out of someone who meant so fucking much to you because the second your heart stops aching when you think of her, it means she doesn’t matter anymore.”
“She’ll always matter.”
“Exactly,” he answered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Now, if you still want to run away and mope and feel fucking sorry for yourself… can that part of the day be postponed until later? Because we have somewhere to be this morning.”
I raised my brow. “I’m going to ignore the mocking of my emotions and cut straight to… where do we have to be?”
“Somewhere,” he replied, the definitive tone leaving no room to argue. “There’s a dress on the bed upstairs. We’ve got about an hour to get ready and get into town.”
“Where’s Gage?”
“Less questions, more action.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned my body toward the stairs, tapping my ass hard and making me jump before pointing, silently telling me to move my ass.
I trudged upstairs, my tears drying on my cheeks though my chest still felt heavy.
The weight of today, I was pretty sure, would always be the same, pressing down on my chest, making getting through the day even harder.
The dress on the bed was a deep navy-blue color, a sexy but conservative pencil skirt that fell right at my knee but was tight as hell and had a split that finished halfway up my thigh. Now, my man was talented in many different areas, but I knew for a fact he did not pick this dress out, meaning he had other people in the clubhouse involved in his plan for today.
I had a shower and slipped into the skin-tight dress, pulling my hair into a high ponytail before looking in the mirror.
The smile came on its own, lighting up my face like I didn’t imagine I would see today.
“Fucking hell,” Shotgun cursed from the doorway. I spun around, my jaw hitting the floor. “You better close that before I stick my dick in it, and we end up fucking late.”
I slowly strutted across the room, my hips swinging with the heels I decided to pair with my new look. “This is hot,” I rasped, reaching for the navy-blue tie wrapped around his neck, the color almost matching my dress perfectly. The crisp white button-up shirt was a new edition to his wardrobe, though the leather club cut that he had on over the top, that was so fucking perfect.
A little bit of fancy but still exactly him.
“Where the hell are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
When I thought the smile on my face couldn’t grow any bigger, I spotted Slate standing outside the clubhouse doors, wearing much the same as Shotgun and holding the back door of the club SUV open.
“You need to pay Slate more if he’s moonlighting as an Uber,” I commented, elbowing Shotgun in the side.
He let out a low, rumbling laugh while Slate’s bright smile never changed. “Fuck you.”
“Well, he’s not getting a tip.”
“I’ll give you a ti—”
“Slate!” Shotgun cut in, slapping his best friend around the back of the head before helping me up into the car, my body shaking with laughter. Slate had decided to stick around in Phoenix for a while longer. He said the weather was better here, but I was pretty sure there were other things keeping him close.
Like Gage.
And a sexy undercover cop who wouldn’t answer his calls. Though. I couldn’t really talk, because Holly was ignoring mine too. I hadn’t seen her since Beta Beta burned down, but I just wanted to let her know, despite everything, I missed her.
Just a few hours ago, things had been so heavy, but they were getting lighter and now brighter.
Slate drove us into town, complaining the whole way about how he’d woken up early for this bullshit, but avoiding every question I had about what the bullshit was exactly or what it entailed.
When we finally pulled into the courthouse parking lot, a row of glistening Harleys lining the right side, almost twice the number we would usually have for our men, it let me know we had visitors from out of town. “Are you getting locked up today?”
Slate clears his throat. “Ding, ding, ding...”
“Remind me why I bought you along again?” Shotgun growled, rolling his eyes. He took my hand, and we walked toward the building. The entire place was empty, which I was strangely suspicious of, given it was still a weekday. He shoved the double doors open, storming through the hall like we were meant to be there.
Turned out because we were.
The second we stepped into the courtroom, the seats full of men in club cuts, old ladies, club girls, and everyone else I considered family, I couldn’t stop the emotions that hit me. “I would like to stop crying sometime soon,” I announced, Shotgun rolling his eyes while the room chuckled collectively.
“Please join us,” the judge at the front of the room called, and it was like a prod in the ass.
When we reached the front, standing in front of the judge, Thayleah turned to me and smiled, Gage sleeping peacefully in her arms. I wanted to hug her, to wrap them both up and promise them the world because, goddamn, it was what they deserved.
Thayleah had come out of hell a little worse for wear, the night terrors and the memories often hitting her hard when she was least expecting it. There were a lot of tears and a lot of talking, not to mention a clubhouse full of men who had made it their mission to stay close by her whenever possible, the tension in her shoulders always easing when one of them was nearby.
Shotgun, he had become a dad not once but twice in the past few months.
First with Gage, then with Thayleah.
One may have been his blood, but he’d welcomed Thayleah with his whole damn heart, and I admired him every day for wanting to keep her close to Gage and in our family when it would have been easier to let her go.
“What’s going on?” I murmured, brushing my fingers across Gage’s head, unable to keep from touching his baby-soft skin when he was close by.