His words had me frowning at him. "Of course," I muttered. "I just wanted to get changed."
He brightened up a little, which told me he’d thought I was going to hole up in our room. "You look hot as is."
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, because that was the look I strove to achieve this morning when I knew I had to attend a funeral."
It would take time for him to accept that I was going to involve myself with club life more. So there was no need to get snippy with him. Just yet.
His lips twisted as he stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. As he pressed his back to it, he held open his arms and without a second’s thought, I flew into them.
He held me tight, so tight that I felt like all the loose threads in my being were suddenly bonded together, and I nuzzled my face into the pocket of space between his throat and chin, glad he’d done this because I hadn’t thought to ask.
That would be another habit we needed to break. That I could call on him for what I needed, be it a hug, a lesson on how to break a man’s nose, or that I was worthy of taking his time.
For too long, I hadn’t made waves because I was scared of what the repercussions would be. That needed to change, but we had time. Time to grow, to evolve, to become even more solid than we were now with all the writing on the wall, all our secrets laid bare for each other.
I’d never let Asher drown in his sins, and he’d never let the tsunami of self-doubt pull me under.
In the storm that was life, we’d be each other’s life rafts.
If nothing else, the ‘episode’ had taught me that.
"It’s going to be okay, Keira."
Nervously, I rasped, "How can it be? We have another kid now."
His mouth pressed to my temple. "Never thought I could be prouder of you, baby girl, then you go and claim one of my brother’s children."
I swallowed. "We’ve made a mess with Cyan. What if we fuck him up too?"
He growled under his breath then pulled back to grab my chin. "We haven’t fucked Cyan up. She’s perfect as she is. Sure, she might be a little rusty around the edges, but with a bit of polishing, she’ll be as good as new."
"You didn’t just say our daughter was rusty, did you?"
Storm grinned—I felt it when his beard scraped me. "It felt fitting."
I pushed my forehead against his chest. "Kelly’s traumatized. What if we don’t do right by him?"
"Then we don’t. What we can do, baby girl, is our best."
"And if that’s not good enough?"
"Nothing is."
The simplicity of his words as well as the staunch truth in them had me peering up at him once more.
I was this man’s everything. He’d proven that to me time and time again, and now it was my turn. I was going to become a worthy First Lady, one who’d make Rene proud. Not just for Asher, but for our family, for Kelly, for the chapter who’d ridden into war to defend us.
He deserved a strong First Lady, but so did they.
"Eight days." It was all I could think to say.
His lips curved. "Eight days."
When he pressed his forehead against mine, I murmured, "I miss you."
"I miss you too. Eight days."
That was our mantra.
In the following hours, as we celebrated Darla and Jump’s lives, as the brothers partied and drank too much before sobbing into their JDs as they reminisced, and as the women sat there soberly, guzzling tequilas through tight lips, I watched him.
He didn’t attend many parties, a choice I knew stemmed from his predilections, but I watched him and enjoyed it because with every hour that passed, he confirmed that I was right to trust him.
He didn’t drink, didn’t so much as sniff the air when joints were handed around. There were clubwhores in here, too, not acting like hussies but just sticking to themselves as they grieved a brother as well, and he didn’t look their way once.
I wasn’t monitoring him because I didn’t trust him, but because I found the greatest joy in watching him. In seeing him move around, in seeing him be accepted, in seeing the ranks close around him, in seeing the man he should always have been as he led the chapter into glory.
The days slithered past as time had a habit of doing—slipping out from under our fingertips.
Fraction peed everywhere. North grumbled.
Cyan and Kelly argued about Operation, while Cyan aced her math test to the point where I knew, in the next couple of months, we’d need a tutor for that as well as French, while Kelly struggled at school, and got into a fight that had me adding him to the roster at the Krav Maga classes in Akron.
With the funerals over, Storm set about tearing the clubhouse apart on the hunt for the safes the exiles had wanted, and as he did, I worked a couple shifts over at the diner, finding comfort in the humdrum routine, especially during the lulls where Cyan and me talked about lessons.
Storm came to me with an idea to build a property on the land behind the clubhouse, and because I loved the idea of being on the compound, safe from harm and keeping others safe from the harm we perpetrated, he got to work on making that happen.
Eight became seven, six became four, and three became one.
I’d never been so nervous in all my life.
As much as I wanted August Eighth to happen, it was like the countdown to the vacation of a lifetime… you both longed for the day to come and feared when it was over.
I went to bed, wondering if he’d be there at 12:01, hoping he would but… he didn’t show up. I knew why—he was in his office, the architect was here, and they’d been fine-tuning the plans for the development.
Was I disappointed?
Yes.
Did I get my ass out of bed and head down the stairs to grab him?
No.
I stayed there.
Staring up at the ceiling, my heart racing, my body throbbing with a need only he could assuage.
Over the last couple months, he’d gone down on me enough that I pitied the man’s jaw, but that wasn’t enough.
I needed him.
I wanted our union.
But still, I stared up at the ceiling.
I watched the lights flicker over it, heard the noises in the clubhouse start to wind down as it became one AM then two. My presence, as well as Cyan and Kelly’s, was a definite hindrance to the guys who lived here.
All-night parties were no more, and that’d continue to be the way of it until my new house was built and my family was living elsewhere.
"That’s probably why he has the architect staying so late," I muttered to myself. "He wants to get the development done."
But when it rolled around to three AM, that was when I realized I was acting like the old Keira.
The Keira who waited. But didn’t act.
That wasn’t me anymore. I wasn’t that person.
More proof that I still had habits in need of destroying.
Now, I went after what I wanted.
I slammed Kendra’s face into counters and I homeschooled my kid because that was what she needed. I did Krav now so that, in a pinch, I could defend myself if anything happened to my guards, and where my husband was concerned—I didn’t let him get away with handing out bullshit.
He owed me his time, and I wasn’t afraid to take it.
Just like I’d expect him to do the same if the tables were turned.