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— Glitch —

Robin was beside me at the kitchen table when Dutch called to settle the ceremony plans. Every time I pictured driving Wren back through the clubhouse gates, I felt sick.

When Dutch offered to bring the whole club here for the ceremony, Robin refused before he’d finished the invitation.

“Makes no sense,” he said. “Forty men, wives, kids, four hours each way, and we’d have to find somewhere for everyone to stay. We’ll come to you.”

“You sure? It’s your chapter.”

“It’s your club.” Robin folded his arms. “I’d rather see it.”

Dutch looked at him through the screen, then agreed. Robin wanted to see the clubhouse and meet the men on their own ground before he patched into Venom. I couldn’t blame him.

The crew rode. Five men going to collect their new cuts were never going to arrive in a car.

I drove the truck Handful had already made far too many jokes about. You can’t put a thirteen-month-old on a bike. Missing a four-hour ride with five men I liked wasn’t a sacrifice. Not with a car seat behind me and Wren in the passenger seat.

Sparrow had started walking three weeks earlier. Four steps from the counter to the table, then she sat down hard and giggled.

She talked for most of the drive. Not words. A long, confident monologue in a language she’d invented, delivered at full volume.

Wren didn’t say much. She sat with one foot tucked beneath her and watched the coast go by.

Around Fennimore she said, “You can stop if you want.”

I’d stopped at that gas station on my bike once, the one where she’d called Robin at four in the morning. I couldn’t look across the lot without picturing her waiting there alone. I tightened my grip on the wheel. “I don’t need to stop.”

“Seb. It’s a gas station.”

“I’m not making it part of Sparrow’s first trip to Millfield.”

“She’s a baby. She won’t remember it.”

“She was with you when you called Robin.”

Wren turned toward me, then laughed. “She won’t remember that either.”

“I know.” I passed the exit. “I’m the one who can’t stop thinking about it.”

She rested her hand on the back of my neck for a minute, then turned back to the window.

The clubhouse came up on the left at ten past three. Dozens of bikes filled the lot, and somebody—probably Indira—had strung lights over the entrance.

For most of my years in Venom, I’d been the one inside on comms while the others rode out. That building had been home until the night I sent Wren away. I wanted to see my brothers, catch up with String without a screen between us and show Sparrow off. Tomorrow I’d watch Robin and his men receive their cuts. There was plenty here I was glad to come back to.

Wren didn’t look at the bikes. She watched the front doors. Things had been good between us at home; she’d laughed with me in our kitchen that morning. I didn’t know what walking into the common room again would do to her, or whether she’d want me close when she saw it.

I parked and killed the engine. I kept the keys in my hand in case she wanted to leave. At last she unbuckled her seat belt and looked back at Sparrow.

“Come on, bug. Let’s go see everyone.”

I got Sparrow out and handed her to Wren. She settled Sparrow against her side, looked at the clubhouse, took a deep breath and walked in.

The common room held a table piled with enough food for hundreds. Conversations stopped when Wren walked in. Austen came straight to her, and Wren hugged her with one arm, keeping Sparrow against her with the other. Indira was next. People began talking again as Lilac and Bea came over.

I stayed at Wren’s shoulder, my hand on her back, until Lilac caught my wrist.

“Glitch, you’re hovering.”