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“Razor has cancer,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

Nanci nodded. “I know. Razor’s resting.”

“Your orders, Nanci?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yup. Now, my instructions are simple. Ask Moon to order you some food, then shower. Simply put, Chill; you stink. Once you’ve freshened up, get your ass down here and start acting like a brother in the Unwanted Bastards. You and Inglorious let the dead down. The absence of a memorial really fucks me off.”

“Don’t wanna see that,” I muttered, eyeing her warily. Nanci was being too calm, too organised. She was up to something. That made me damn suspicious because when Nanci made a choice, that was final.

“No, I bet. No reminder is good. Honestly, I’m unimpressed, and there’ll be repercussions later. As of now, do what I said, or I’ll make Moon take you out front and dunk you in a horse trough.”

I held Nanci’s gaze, determining how serious she was. Deadly so, by the glint in her eye.

Ashamed, I dropped my eyes. Nanci was correct. We’d failed the others by disrespecting their memory, and Nanci had every right to be pissed.

“Will do, Pres,” I replied. Nanci was owed respect, if nothing else.

“Remember that, Chill. Be aware I’ve no obligations here. I’m here because of Seth and what this club meant to him. Seth doesn’t deserve the dishonour you and Inglorious have shown. That means I say jump and you ask how fuckin’ high!”

Damn it, the blasted woman sounded just like Psych. That cut deep, and I glanced away from Nanci’s accusing gaze. My fingers twitched for a bottle, but Nanci would kick my ass. I couldn’t be around her; the agony was soul-destroying.

I headed upstairs, stripped off my filthy clothes, and binned them.

Naked, I stared at my reflection and shook my head. Fuck, I looked like shit. My face was gaunt, eyes red-rimmed, and beard ungroomed and tangled. My skin was sallow, and the kindest thing that could be said was that I resembled a homeless person. Wearily, I got into my shower and scrubbed the stench away. In front of the mirror, I trimmed my beard neater and put on fresh clothes. They hung on me; I’d lost weight.

Feeling a lot better, even though my hands shook, I headed back to the rec room. Nanci would be waiting. Moon should also have my food order, and for the first time in a year, I was hungry.

I walked in on Nanci speaking to Apache from Rage MC. He was the architect for Merritt.

“What did Chill get?” Nanci asked Moon as he appeared with a takeaway bag.

“Couple of plain chicken subs,” Moon replied.

Apache glanced at Nanci with a look of surprise on his face.

“That’s sensible,” she muttered.

Moon snorted. “You sound surprised.”

“Damn right, I am, prospect. Chill’s hardly been making good decisions lately,” Nanci retorted loudly.

“Ouch,” I said, aware they’d not seen me. Would Nanci take back her words or stand her ground? Knowing Nanci, she’d dig in.

“Truth hurts, Chill.” There it was, just like her brother.

I offered a half-hearted grin as something snapped inside me. I was relieved she was here. It felt good to have a piece of Psych. On instinct, I moved quickly and hugged Nanci tightly, clinging to her. The reality was: the UBMC needed her desperately.

I needed her.

“Don’t go, Nanci, we can’t cope.”

“Not going anywhere,” she replied softly, hugging me back. Once, we’d been family; maybe we could create that again.

“Sit and eat. Once done, you’re going to look at paint samples and start acting properly. We’ll also be booking you in with a grief therapist—and don’t bitch, it’s mandatory.”

“Shit,” I muttered. My expression turned mulish, but Nanci was having none of it. She merely pointed to her patch, and I glared and didn’t argue. Nanci overruled me.

There was a knot of fear in my gut; I had to tell her Psych’s last words. What scared me was that I didn’t know how she’d react that I’d sat on them for so long.