Page 62 of Property of Quake

“I’m not taking my final vows,” she says.

“That’s an option?” I ask because what the hell do I know?

Her laughter wraps around me. “Yes, it is. And it’s the one I’ve chosen,” she says, relief and a sense of freedom shining in her eyes. “I don’t think God called me to be a nun.”

A single tear spills down her cheek, and I brush it away. “What do you think He called you to be?”

“A person who helps children,” she replies easily.

Her declaration solidifies the love I have for her. Her job description might change, the clothing and title, but Whitney won’t. She has always been and will always be a woman who puts others before herself, the woman who sat with Melissa through nightmares. She’s the same person who turned a motorcycle clubhouse into a safe place simply by walking into it.

She’s the woman I love.

“I don’t know what happens next,” she admits after a beat of silence. “But I know I’m ready for it.”

18

WHITNEY

The longer Quake is gone, the harder it is to ignore the ball of anxiety sitting in my gut.

Rationally, I know the club isn’t off chasing trouble. They’ve spent days gathering information, digging into Tom’s past and trying to uncover exactly how much damage he, along with Keith, have caused. They’re doing what needs to be done, following leads and gathering evidence instead of charging in blind.

I know that isn’t what Quake preferred, but he got the brothers to agree for me.

Unfortunately, fear doesn’t care much about logic or being rational.

From my seat at the picnic table outside the clubhouse in the back parking lot, I watch Melissa throw a tennis ball across the fenced in yard for Stella. Quake and the guys finished the fence a few days ago, and it’s the dog's favorite place. Melissa laughs when Stella rolls after dive-bombing the ball, and the sound eases some of the tension in my chest.

She’s come so far. We both have.

When Melissa first arrived at Sacred Haven, she wouldn’t even come out of her room. Every movement was cautious, every expression carefully guarded. Now, she laughs freely, argues with anyone when she’s trying to make a point, and moves through her days without constantly looking over her shoulder.

I’m not naive. I know she’s not completely healed or if she even ever will be. But she’s finally beginning to understand what it is to feel safe.

It’s been a few weeks since I decided not to take my final vows, and I'm now staying at the clubhouse full time. The choice hadn’t been easy, but in the end, I couldn’t ignore where my heart was leading me. The sisters at Sacred Haven, as well as Father James, have been very understanding and supportive, even if my path turned out to be very different from what anyone anticipated.

Now, the clubhouse feels like home, more so than anywhere else ever has, and the biggest reasons why are Quake and Melissa.

The only contact we’ve had with Carrie since our last meeting the day I told Quake about my decision has been through text. Quake was able to convince her that Melissa’s home is with me, whether that’s here at the clubhouse or ‘in a whorehouse in Alaska’. Her only reply had been ‘approved indefinitely’. Considering everything else that’s happened and our suspicions of the caseworker, nobody is inclined to question it. Melissa is safe, Carrie isn’t interfering at the moment, and none of us are about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You know, staring into the abyss won’t bring him home any faster.”

I glance over to find Mellie lowering herself onto the bench beside me. Her pregnant belly is becoming more pronounced, and I love that she counts me as a friend. Lucy, Zoey, and Marlene also join us, each of them pretending that their focus is on anything other than me.

“I’m not staring into the abyss,” I counter.

“Girl, you’ve looked toward the gate at least twenty times since lunch,” Lucy says with a laugh.

“Thirty times,” Zoey corrects.

“At least,” Marlene adds.

I roll my eyes, but their teasing makes it impossible not to smile. “You’re exaggerating.”

“We’re not,” Mellie says, patting my arm. “But we get it. You’re worried.”

Rather than deny it, I stay quiet and return my focus to Melissa. She throws the ball, and Stella chases it. Melissa throws, Stella chases. For a few minutes, everything seems normal. And then it doesn’t.