Page 18 of His End Game

“I suppose I don’t have that problem now,” I murmur.

Her smile falls. Swinging the car through the gates, she parks besides Dad’s bike and kills the engine.

“You’ve watched your dad and I handle ourselves all your life. Don’t think it was all hard. There have been so many more good times than bad. It’s just that when shit is bad, it’s extreme and hard to forget. When you do meet someone, and you will one day, I have no doubt you’ll make it work. They say kids learn from their parents, so not to blow my own trumpet, but your dad and I are amazing examples of making shit work.”

I laugh. This is usually where I argue that meeting someone will never happen, but for the life of me, I can’t force the words out from between my lips.

She reaches over and takes hold of my hand.

“When it comes to the club, I have no fear for you. But when it comes to you, your personal life, I fear you’ll fight the future because it isn’t what you planned in the past.”

“Mom—”

“Just listen to me for a second. Losing India will most likely be the hardest period in your whole life. There’s no escaping it and no hiding from it. You are who you are today because of everything you’ve been through, but there will be a day where you can move forward and who knows, maybe it’s already happening.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, son, you think I don’t have eyes. You think I haven’t noticed the tension between you and Holly? You think I didn’t hear about Zara visiting you in the hospital? Personally, and no offence to Zara, I know who I prefer to steal your heart.”

Snorting, I grunt, “Even after all these years, you still judge the hangarounds?”

“I do not judge,” she mock shrieks, then grins. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person when she’s not face down and ass up, taking it from any brother who will have her.”

My laugh fills the car and I end up hurting over it.

“I would never meddle in your love life, but I will say there’s a certain type of old lady a president needs. A hangaround who’s sucked most of your brothers’ dicks isn’t who I’d say qualifies.”

I already know this.

“And you think Holly is more suitable? Not saying there’s anything going on with her.”

“She’s already seen the worst of what can happen around the club, yet she still has a pure soul. She’s good with Rayna. If she opened up more, she’d be well liked by the other old ladies. I reckon she would be the balance a president needs when he goes home after dealing with trouble at the club. Because there will be trouble and you will need an old lady who understands how to be at certain times. Just something to think about.”

If I tell her I’ll think about it, she’ll read into shit I don’t want her to, and these types of conversations will become regular and I’m not down for that. I’m not blind, I know Holly would be good for me, but at the end of the day, I’m not good for her.

Throwing open the door, I haul myself out and take a deep breath. This is it.

“I’d wish you luck, but I don’t think you’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

The last time my stomach bottomed out, walking toward the bar, was the day I was patched into the club. All these years later and I’m taking the gavel… if the vote went my way.

I expect to hear music as I near, but I hear nothing. Stepping inside, the brothers are sitting around the bar. None of them look my way.

Dad stands from his table with the old-timers and it’s in this moment, I realise just how much I want the gavel. Dad’s right. It’s time to lead the club into the modern times and it needs an injection of youth.

My eyes drop to the empty space where his patch used to be. He’s taken his patch off. He wouldn’t have done that if…

The bar erupts with cheers, brothers banging the tables and raising their drinks in the air. JJ’s the first to approach me. The fucker goes to jump me but remembers my wound last minute and pulls me in for a hug.

“Congrats, brother. You fuckin’ did it!”

“Thanks.”

Shit has just got real.

Brothers part as my dad makes his way toward me and holds out his hand. I go to shake it when I feel the fabric press against my palm.

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