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I turned some of that restless energy toward the gym. To having fun with the club girls. To the occasional jobs that came around for the club that included pain and bloodshed.
Eventually, though, it became impossible not to feel a little pulled in.
I wasn’t accustomed to seeing the same faces day in and day out. To having “old haunts” and a regular routine.
It was nice, actually. To have some stability.
I won’t lie. That shit made me feel like such a fucking loser to admit. That I liked routine. That some part of me was craving connection. But it was the truth, regardless of how I felt about it.
I couldn’t claim I felt like I one hundred percent belonged yet. But I was getting there. Especially since Valen took up with his old flame, and wasn’t around as much to be that easier, more comfortable connection for me.
It forced me to get involved, to engage, to build those bonds.
I wouldn’t claim it felt like a family yet.
But, then again, I knew fuck-all about what family actually felt like. So maybe the fierce loyalty I had started to feel, and the protectiveness toward the princesses, and the sort of frustrated or annoyed resignation of the other guys’ occasional idiocy was that family feeling. And I just didn’t recognize it before.
“I get it,” Sylvie said, nodding. “I mean, I never had siblings or a traditional family either. So I kind of can’t relate when people talk about how tight their family is and Girl Scout campaigns, and all of that… it all just goes over my head, I guess. The closest thing I have is the guys at work. Russ and Marshall especially. They’re like uncles, I guess. They’ve never missed a birthday.”
“It was weird as fuck the first birthday I had here,” I admitted.
I guess Valen had told his girl, Lou, and she had relayed the information to the princesses. Who descended on the clubhouse like I was their fucking beloved brother.
There were presents, balloons, and fucking party hats. Best yet, a cake shaped like a goddamn motorcycle.
“That’s really sweet,” Sylvie said, giving me a small smile.
It was, too.
My Ma had always made me a cupcake on my birthday. And she tried to get me something, usually something small from the dollar store since my old man never gave her any money of her own, and sure as shit didn’t let her work, so she had to scrape together what she could find lying around or in my father’s pockets when she did his laundry.
It was never an event like the girls made it.
“What did they get you?” Sylvie asked. “Guys are so hard to shop for in general, even when you know them well, and I am getting the feeling you haven’t exactly been letting everyone here in.”
“Hope, she’s a private investigator, she got me a badass knife.
“Gracie, she’s kind of the sweetheart of the group, she got me a season pass to the beach.
“Willa, the boss chick of the group, rich as fuck, got me a gift certificate to the chiropractor because I had a fucked up shoulder at the time.
“Luna, who is a book whore, got me a history of Navesink Bank. Which made sense since at the time I was new.”
The list went on and on. Layna. Violet. Andi. Billie. Danny. Holly. Abigail. Theo. Lou.
They’d all gotten me something.
“They sound really thoughtful.”
“They are,” I agreed. “The club is what brought everyone together, but the girls? The girls have always been the glue. You’ll meet more of them eventually.”
“I almost forgot I met two of them,” she admitted. “What were their names?”
“Violet and Layna,” I supplied. “They are in and out of town. Vi, chasing skips. Layna, doing high stakes poker tournaments.”
“Interesting group of women,” Sylvie said.
“They are. And they’re gonna be curious about you now that you’re staying here. So expect to be invaded eventually,” I warned. “Gracie will convince everyone that it’s the right thing to do to give you a few days to heal before they show up, but they’re coming.”
“I don’t mind. It might be nice to have some women to talk to. My world is very… male-centric. You know… with the house being all male,” she clarified, making me wonder if my discomfort at that comment had shown on my face.
“They’ll probably convince you to join them at the self-defense gym with them for classes.”
“Really?” she asked. “I always figured that was, like, an exclusive place for fighters or something.”
“Nah. It’s open to everyone. The club moms and aunts who run it made it their life’s mission to get as many women trained in self-defense as possible. The princesses, they’ve all been training since they were toddling. But they always welcome the new girls in to go to classes. It’s some sort of initiation ceremony or some shit.”
