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“The women in our club are the strongest women I know. They don’t take any shit. Not from their ol’ man or from anyone. They only do what they wanna do. No one will ever force them to do otherwise.”
“I believe you.” Now that his anger was gone, his stutter seemed to be, too.
“Get you’re strong, too. Get that you’ve been in a powerful spot. Get that you also got fucked over by assholes with dicks. My brothers ain’t dicks.” He closed his eyes and his chest rose and fell slowly. When he opened them, he said, “No, they can be huge fuckin’ dicks. We all can. But not to our women. Ain’t nothin’ but respect, trust and loyalty between the ones who found their forever.”
Fallon tipped her head to the side as she stared up at him. “Their forever?”
“The person they wanna spend forever with.”
Holy shit. “I love that. Their forever,” she whispered.
Even though a lot of marriages or relationships didn’t last forever, it was a great concept. It was something every couple should strive for, but not every couple did. Some marriages were for convenience, some for appearances, some for financial reasons. The list of wrong reasons was long.
Fallon liked the idea of one day finding her own forever. Someone who fit her perfectly. Where their personalities didn’t clash and their ideologies were aligned. Someone she could live with in complete harmony.
That had to be a pipe dream, right? Did that really exist?
“You haven’t found your forever yet,” she murmured.
His nostrils flared the slightest bit. “No. But also ain’t lookin’. Figure when it happens, it happens.”
“But you do expect it to happen.”
He shrugged. “One day.”
“You’re relying on fate?”
“Just like death, when the time is right, it’ll happen. Nothin’ I can do about it.”
“You could either actively search for it or, contrarily, you could fight fate when you find it.”
“I could.”
She smiled. “But you won’t.”
“Didn’t say that.”
She laughed softly. “Bikers are stubborn, aren’t they?”
“As fuck.” His sexy smirk was back.
If he could only bottle that, he’d be rich.
Because one thing was for sure, she’d be buying it. By the case.
He didn’t mean to be a dick, but when it came to his Fury family, sometimes he couldn’t help being overprotective.
It pissed him off that getting ticked off had made him stutter, even though he had fought it. He had stuttered in front of Fallon when he hardly ever did it anymore. It was so rare that he wasn’t sure if any of his brothers even knew he had that issue. He had outgrown it for the most part but some instances brought it back to the surface.
One time he did it at the garage when he caught his finger in a damn truck door and he was in so much pain that he stuttered over every curse word he yelled. Most likely the guys at the garage thought it was due to the fact that he almost broke his fucking finger, not because he had an actual stutter. Having a finger smashed would make anyone stumble over their words.
But tonight, he’d shown his vulnerability in front of Fallon.
He knew she’d have a problem with the fact that women and children were considered “property” in an MC. Or at least, they were in the Fury since Whip didn’t know how other MCs handled things.
From what he understood, every club was different, had different rules and different values. No universal rule books existed for motorcycle clubs. No national organization existed that governed MCs. They all did their own thing.
Hell, the difference in how women and children were treated between the current Fury and the Originals was night and day. He had heard some real horror stories from Dutch.
Even worse, the old man didn’t consider them horror stories because to him, what happened back then wasn’t a problem. It had been normal. That might have been the reason Bebe bailed on him and their boys, Rook and Cage.
Luckily, Trip had a different train of thought and steered the club away from that kind of behavior.
Whip hated the way his father had treated his mother. The way he abused her both verbally and physically. He’d have a problem if he saw any of his brothers treat their women the same way.
A huge fucking problem.
To the point he wouldn’t hesitate to step in, even if he ended up being the loser in that fight. He wouldn’t and couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
Real men didn’t abuse women. Or children. Flaming pieces of dog shit did.
After crab-walking his Harley backward into the empty spot in front of her room, he shut off the engine.
She was given the room on the end.
Farthest from the office.
Far from the eyes of whoever was currently working the desk.
Far from Ozzy and Shay’s eyes, too.
He didn’t bother to get off because he wasn’t sure if the rest of the night would go the way he hoped it would or if it was now fucked.
