Which meant I had to have her there with me.
It was a world-changing revelation.
But the world had some plans.
Ones that included ripping her away from me before I really even got a chance to get used to having her around.
Chapter Twelve
Shy
I had no one to talk about McCoy with.
It was such a silly, stupid thing to be sad about, given the situation, but I couldn't shake the thought either as I watched Belle in the driveway, nodding as she listened to Che talk to her, motioning occasionally to something on the motorcycle between them.
She was taking riding lessons.
Belle.
The girl who used to be terrified of motorcycles.
I wouldn't pretend to understand what was going on with her. I guess it would be impossible unless I'd been through something like she had.
So I was just trying to do what I could. Be supportive. Even if the things she wanted to do made my stomach flip over.
Like shooting guns with Alaric a week ago.
Like learning how to street fight with Seeley shortly after that.
And now, apparently, learning how to ride a bike with Che.
I tried to remind myself as she slipped on a helmet and climbed on the bike that what was important was that she was not sitting in a ball, staring at the wall with vacant eyes.
When she was doing something new and dangerous, she seemed to slip into the skin of a woman I barely recognized. Where I'd always known Belle as sweet and shy with a steadfast avoidance of all things confrontational, and overly cautious in all ways, this new one was calm, confident, determined, and full of some sort of raw, primal power I didn't entirely feel comfortable with at times.
But that was a whole lot of my problem, wasn't it?
People changed and grew.
You either changed and grew with them, or you got left behind.
And I damn sure wasn't going to move on from my sister just because she was learning to deal with her trauma in ways that made me uncomfortable.
What mattered was she felt better, that she found an outlet.
Besides, Alaric was having her shoot with blanks. Seeley had used prop knives. And Che was walking beside the bike like a dad with a kid learning to ride without their training wheels.
She was in good hands.
My gaze moved around, finding Seeley and Donovan standing in the front yard, keeping guard. Inside the house, Eddie was in the kitchen whipping up something that smelled like it might help me put some extra padding on for winter. Huck was out in the pool with his wife, Sass, and the kids.
Good men, every last one of them.
How was that possible?
"That is a thinking face," Donovan declared, moving into the living room, and dropping down on the couch. "Anything interesting?" he asked, slapping his arm where he had some new ink healing and itching. Everyone around the house took turns slapping him to keep him from itching the spot. You'd think with the extensive work he had done, he would be used to the sensations, but the itching clearly drove him crazy.
"I was just thinking about how good everyone here is."
"Good," Donovan mused, shooting me a wicked smirk. "I'm not sure that is the word many people would use to describe us."
"Because those people don't know you. They just see the surface. Outlaw bikers. Guys who sell guns and don't hesitate to use them themselves if they need to. But underneath all that, this is a club full of good, good men. I mean, look how everyone is taking to helping Belle. And everyone here just pretends my relationship with McCoy didn't start with me trying to murder him."
"Hey, we all have our flaws," he said, eyes dancing. "I spend too much money on ink and watches. You try to murder people."
I let out a small laugh at that.
"We're really lucky to have found you guys."
"We're happy to have you here," Donovan said, shrugging. "It's good to have some balance. We have Sass and Harm and, occasionally, Ayanna. But there is a lot of testosterone around here. It's important to have some femininity around. Especially for the young fucks like Seeley and his friends who want to join."
"Can I ask you something about Seeley?" I asked.
"Sure."
"I've been curious since McCoy first mentioned it. How does someone that much younger than all of you have all the contacts he seems to?"
"That's a good fucking question. And I don't have an answer for you. Seeley hasn't wanted to talk about it. And Huck values his connections too much to rock that boat. I imagine we will all figure it out some day."
"Can I ask you something about you?"
"Shoot."
"Why become a biker? McCoy said you were a street race organizer, right?"
"Right."
"Why the career change?"
"Street racing isn't what it used to be. I wanted something a little more steady."
"So you became an arms-dealing biker?" I asked, lips twitching.
"It's dependable. Sure, it might come with more actual physical risk than organizing street races, but it also gives me something to rely on. A steady paycheck. A guaranteed future. Besides, the brotherhood and family here, you don't expect to really depend on it, but you do. And you realize it is something you've been missing. It was always just my brother and me," he added.
"It's been my sister and I for a long time too," I said, nodding, understanding.
It was great to have someone you are that close with. But there was no denying at times that the both of us longed for a bigger support system, where we envied people who had big, loud, happy families to spend holidays with.
"It's nice to have a bigger family, even if it is a found one, huh?" he asked.
"It is," I agreed, shooting him a smile. "How come your brother hasn't joined the club?" I asked.
"He's just being a young shit," Donovan said, smirking. "At his age, I was the same way. He wants to wild out for a while without his big brother watching. I get it. But, yeah, I'd like him to join eventually. That way I can have his back."
"Is he a lot like you?"
"Oh, fuck no," Donovan said, smiling. "No, he's impulsive and reckless and never thinks shit through, a shit starter through-and-through. Uses his hands more than his brains. Which he has, but he doesn't like anyone to know it."
"He sounds like the perfect biker."
"Next time he comes over, you go ahead and tell him that. Maybe he will believe a pretty woman more than me," he said, shooting me a wink before getting up and moving into the kitchen, giving Eddie a hard time about the amount of cheese he was using. I couldn't help but laugh as Eddie got more and more frustrated, grumbling at Donovan in and out of Spanish.
"You believe this fucker?" Eddie asked, waving a hand at Donovan's back as he walked off, grinning the whole way. Maybe the shit-starting gene was a little stronger in Donovan than he thought it was. "Telling me I use too much cheese," he went on, shaking his head as he heaped some quesadillas on a plate, and bringing it over to me. "The ladies like cheese, am I right, mami?" he asked.
"Well, I am no ambassador for all women, but yes, yes we do," I confirmed, taking a big bite of the too-hot food as he smiled.