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After a while, Darwin asked, “How’s Zelda doin’?”
“She’s pretty okay, I think. Back in school, back at derby, back at her life.” Actually, he was still worried about his sister. She was, indeed, back at her life, acting like nothing life-shattering had ever happened to her, but there was a new, almost manic energy to the way she went about that life. Zelda had thrown herself at every single day since she first stood up on two feet and let go, but since the summer that energy seemed less like enthusiasm and more like desperation. She probably needed to talk to somebody—somebody professional, who knew how to help her.
The few times he’d gently nudged at the idea with her, however, had gone very poorly. Zelda did not want anyone peeking behind her curtain, not even him.
“You ask about my sister a lot,” Zaxx said, since he wasn’t about to say anything else currently in his head. And it was true—Darwin asked after Zelda more than any other patch. Not intrusively or creepily, but predictably. He was the kind of guy who planted daffodils because the yellow would look pretty against the brown siding of his house, and made space for Doofus to be put to rest in his yard—who had been the one, in fact, to bury him. He also gave personal, wrapped gifts to all the club girls at Christmas. All the other patches, Zaxx included, simply threw money into the sack when Adrienne or Candy held one out, and let the old ladies figure out what to do with the collection. But Darwin actually shopped for the club girls, finding a gift he thought each would like. He did the same thing for the patches, though most patches (Zaxx again included) didn’t exchange gifts like that.
Darwin was as tough as he needed to be, when he needed to be. Zaxx had never known him to flinch. With his black hair, black eyes, black beard, thick scar on his neck, and heavy coverage of ink, the man looked like he’d been born from a hole in the earth. Zaxx had seen women change course to avoid him and clutch their children close when he passed by. But really, the man was a squish, powered by a bleeding heart.
To tease him and lighten the mood, Zaxx added with a smirk, “She’s too young for you, perv.” Darwin was well into his thirties. If Zaxx thought the guy truly had Zelda in his sights, he would not be teasing or lightening a mood.
He took the poke in the spirit Zaxx intended it and grinned. “Yeah, she is. I’m not pervin’. It just kills me she went through that.”
“Yeah,” Zaxx sighed. “Kills me, too.”
~oOo~
Several days later, Zaxx parked his truck at the clubhouse, pulled the hood of his hoodie up, and trotted through the soupy gravel of the lot. That day at Darwin’s had been the last pretty day since. All the beautiful weather autumn had given them had been washed away in nearly a week of grey skies, blustery winds, and intermittent heavy storms.
Despite the blear and chill, so far Signal Bend had it easy, a lot of soggy mess but no flooding or any other kind of big damage. The whole Midwest was going through it, including a spate of tornadoes. A moderate one had touched down near Rolla, fucking up a few farms; a much bigger one had plowed a furrow through Tulsa and taken the roof clean off the clubhouse of the Brazen Bulls MC and fucked with most of that neighborhood.
SBC construction normally ran a full schedule all the way into November, and they did all the work they could even in rain, but this week they’d all been sitting on their asses, unable to do even interior work.
When the Night Horde sat on its collective ass, the clubhouse was busy around the clock. As the only full-time resident, Zaxx had had his fill of his brothers and all the club hangers-on. He’d spent the last few days with Gia—though this morning he’d got the sense that she was reaching her fill of him in her space.
He wasn’t in his feelings about it (yet), but if she didn’t like him around quite so much, that sure put a dent in his hope to move in with her. Maybe the time to actually talk about where they were headed and what that looked like was upon them.
On one hand, Zaxx knew what the future he wanted looked like, at least a first sketch of the painting. He wanted to live with her, and he was pretty sure he was ready for that to be a permanent arrangement. That tiny house was a complication, of course; it was quite small, and Gia clearly needed both space and privacy. He was pretty sure it was the snugness of the house making her tense about his extended presence there. He felt it, too; they couldn’t get out of each other’s way. If they were doing anything except cuddling and fucking, it felt crowded. Sometimes too crowded for him, too, but he didn’t have anywhere he could go to get his own peace and quiet.
Also, as she delved more and more deeply into her dissertation, her work area got steadily bigger. Last night, he’d moved a stack of books from the table beside the sofa, so he could set a glass down, and had gotten yelled at for screwing with her organization. He’d had trouble keeping his temper about that.
Thus, if they decided to live together, it would need to be elsewhere.
Except her parents had gone to great effort and expense to give her that house as a gift only ... what? Four months ago? It had taken Gia weeks thereafter to appreciate it, and longer to love it. But love it she now did. Nobody named Lunden would welcome the idea of her moving out so soon.
So should he go ahead and lease a place for a while? There weren’t many apartments in or around town—a few on Main Street, above the shops, and a few old houses on the streets just off Main that had been carved into units. Nothing like an actual complex.
Apartment living gave Zaxx the ick, anyway. He didn’t like hearing other people’s toilets flush or being privy to their fights and fucks. He got enough of that at the clubhouse.
Yeah. He and Gia really needed to talk. Maybe three months together was too soon, but they couldn’t go much longer or the problem would plant a flag between them.
Zaxx ran into the clubhouse and shook the rain from his shoulders. He pushed his hood back and was surprised to see the Hall mostly empty. Izzy, Dani, and Kalina were cleaning up, and he could hear Adrienne and her daughter, Megan, talking in the kitchen, but no patches were around.
He checked his watch—oh, shit! He was due in the Keep ten minutes ago. He hurried through the Hall, tossed his phones in the burner box, and went into the Keep.
Of course, all the other patches were in their seats, and they all looked at Zaxx like he’d missed the homeroom bell.
“Sorry! Rain slowed me down,” he muttered as he went around the table and dropped into his own chair.
The table before him was a beautiful thing, far too beautiful for this group of farting, cussing, nose-picking assholes to deserve it. Trimmed with a turned braid and made of dense wood stained so dark it was almost black, except where long years of rough hands had thinned the finish to show the reddish meat beneath, it gleamed. And of course, Saint Isaac had built it with his own two hands, so the thing was like a legendary artifact.
Excalibur. The Holy Grail. The Rosetta Stone. The Night Horde Table.
Though Zaxx was sometimes impatient with all the deep mythology the club stood on, and sometimes impatient with Isaac’s exalted status, here in the Keep, he felt the magic. He’d been sitting at this table for a while now, but he still didn’t quite feel like he deserved it.
“Five more minutes and that rain would’ve cost you a Ben,” Kellen said, breaking apart Zaxx’s quick reverie.
What an asshole. It had been Kellen’s idea to fine a patch hundred bucks every time he was fifteen minutes late to a club meeting, and another for each fifteen minutes he was late, and that fine hit Zaxx harder than anybody else. Timeliness wasn’t impossible for him, but it sure was a struggle. He spent his life late or going to ridiculous lengths not to be.
