It’s not a challenge, but it’s something.
Dad looks at me and sighs softly. “I don’t believe everything will be fixed between us overnight. I let you down, and not just once or twice, but for a long time. I deserve to stew in it for a while. I’m also not going to be able to change everything about me overnight. I just hope that one day we can work on it.”
“Dad,” the word feels like a sob and comes out a little broken. I step closer to him and hug him. When he wraps his arms around me and squeezes softly, I murmur, “I hope one day we can work on it too.”
It’s not today.
He knows that.
I know it too.
Still, as I step back, I’m willing to bet on the little ember of hope inside of me. I can take a chance on my dad because I know I’ll always have someone to be there for me, no matter what. My biker.
When I move back next to Titus, he looks at me with eyes full of pride.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Dad says before glancing between us one more time and turning back toward the door. Atthe last second, I swear I see one side of his mouth lift in a half-smile, but I can’t be entirely sure.
A tentative truce was formed in this room. It’s more than enough for right now.
The night of the fair, I could not have guessed I’d ever have that much.
Thankfully, the nurse arrives before Titus can grumble about the wheelchair again. I walk next to him the entire time, knowing what will be greeting him the moment we step outside. When we do, Titus stills even though the nurse keeps pushing.
The entire club, every single brother, is out in front of the hospital. Half are in front of his SUV, which is idling at the curb, and the other half are behind. When they see him, everyone starts revving their engines.
Over the last few days, there has been a steady stream of brothers and Old Ladies coming in and out of the hospital to see him, but this moment crystalizes it.
Their loyalty to the club, yes, but also to him.
The weight of the cuts they all wear on their backs.
I clear my throat when I come to a stop and the nurse mirrors me. Titus looks up at me with glassy eyes and a lump forms in my throat. Does he not realize how loved he is? Does he not realize what he means to them?
After I smile at him, I turn toward Snake as he walks toward me. He hands me the cut in his hands and kisses my cheek before walking back toward his bike. I’m sure he wishes Graycie were behind him, but with the pregnancy they’re not risking it and I totally understand.
While holding up Titus’ cut, I go to where the leather has been patched. My voice wobbles slightly, “I know it’s felt like you’ve been missing something, but I wanted to make sure this was patched before you slid it back on.” I toy with the area, the circle where the bullet went through the fabric is easy to see. “The mark of it is still there, a way to honor the truth of what happened while making your cut whole.”
Titus stands up slowly and the nurse tuts at him. He doesn’t pay her any attention. He steps around the chair and right in front of me. His gray eyes bore into mine and his voice sounds like gravel, “You going to slip it on me, Teach?”
A shiver works its way down my spine and I nod slowly. I’m very aware of everyone watching us, but I look into the eyes of the man I love with my entire being and it all falls away.
Titus turns and faces his brothers before I slip one arm and then the other through the holes of his cut. When I slide it up and into place, letting the leather settle over his shoulders, the sound coming from the bikes is deafening. It’s not just a roar, it’s a declaration. It’s a celebration.
With a sneer toward the wheelchair, which earns another tut from the nurse, Titus hooks his arm around my waist and leads me to his SUV. He tries to lead me to the passenger side, but I level him with a look that shows every ounce of my displeasure and the level of stubbornness I will bring to the situation if he were to try to drive us home.
The little grunt of pain he makes when he gets in the car is all the confirmation I need. He’s not driving anywhere. I already know the man is going to try to get on his bike too damn soon.
I get behind the wheel and let out a breath of relief. We’re leaving the hospital and I’m so fucking grateful. I’m not sure I could ever express the gratitude I feel.
He’s alive.
I’m safe.
It’s done.
I’m just not entirely certain about what comes next. I know what he said—I’m his and I’m not going anywhere. As much as I want to believe it and leap, it’s not easy to do.
“So, what do we know?” I ask the question which has been burning inside of me for the last few days.
