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He chuckles while shaking his head at me. “Swear to God, sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Brother, I know that day haunts you, fuck, it haunts everyone who was around then. But she’s home, she’s whole, and most importantly, she’shappy. She doesn’t bear any ill-will to you or hell, my own pops, Ban. We’re the lucky ones because she actually came home. You gotta let it go.”
“Maybe if I knew what actually happened, I could, Brick,” I rebut. “It’s thenotknowing that bothers me the most, y’know what I mean?”
“Banshee, they shattered your fucking jaw and broke your leg as well as your arm. How the fuck were you going to get help?” he whisper-yells, his hands now clenched into fists. “Fuck, they almost killed you too, you stupid ass. My old man said when they found you, that you had somehow dragged yourself nearly to the back door of the clubhouse, Brother. Seems to me you did everything in your power to try and stop them, then get help. And let’s not forget the most important part in all of this, Banshee. You were ten fucking years old, and they were adults.”
I see the sorrow in his eyes; I know from what I was told that when he got to the clubhouse after a doctor’s appointment and heard what happened, he insisted on coming to the hospital to sit with me. While it went against hospital policy, considering how young we were, they apparently finally relented because when I finally woke up after they reduced the medication they were giving me to keep me in a medically induced coma, my best friend was kicked back in the recliner, reading to me.
“Never thanked you for that,” I tell him. “Hanging with me while I was in the hospital, then when I came home and was stuck wherever I was put.”
“Wasn’t a hardship, Brother. We’ve been best friends for longer than I can remember. Besides, we managed to beat several games that year, remember?”
I snicker, because we took over the television in the main room and it wasn’t unusual to see us playing Legend of Zelda or Mario Kart. Kracken brought a shit ton of magazines and the three of us spent hours together; time they could’ve spent outside working on the dirt bikes, but Brick was insistent that until I could do it, they’d wait.
“We’ve got a helluva good family, Brother,” I reply, a slight smile on my face.
“We’re gonna figure this out, Ban,” Brick promises. “One of the brothers out in Texas can dream walk or some shit. I don’t fully understand how it works, but I hear he can sift through your memories and help bring them to the surface. But only if you want. Never gonna do anything to hurt you.”
“Gotta do something, Brick. I can’t keep going on like this, it’s affecting my whole fucking life. It’s why I’ve been avoiding Ryleigh as much as possible,” I admit. “I know she’s forgiven me because as she said, there wasn’t anything to forgive, but I just feel so fucking guilty.”
“There’s nothingtoforgive, Banshee. The fault and blame lies solely on the bastards who thought it would be a good idea to fuck with the club,” he insists.
Something comes to mind, and I ask, “Why are y’all here instead of at the house?” The club and when I was old enough, me, kept up my parents’ home, which Brick and Ryleigh are now living in since it was so close to the clubhouse. Actually, it and several other homes are on the property itself, but far enough away to give them privacy. If I ever find an ol’ lady, I’ll build something but right now, my suite of rooms in the clubhouse is sufficient.
“Ryleigh finally decided on the colors she wanted for the rooms. Prospects started painting yesterday and I didn’t want her breathing in the fumes,” he replies.
“Makes sense. Did you bring the two troublemakers too?”
He chuckles while nodding. “She wouldn’t leave her ‘babies’ to breathe them in either.”
Of course, she wouldn’t. I’m more of a dog person but I had to admit, her two cats, Calvin and Hobbes, were hysterical. She had had them microchipped since they roamed around the clubhouse when they were living here full-time, but both of them followed her around like little puppies. They also had a penchant for sleeping on the shelves behind the bar. The first time Stormy was making drinks and turned to get a bottle of tequila to pour out some shots, she screamed like she was being murdered because she came face to face with one of the little shits.
“Better tell Stormy,” I advise, smirking.
“Fuck. Yeah, let me take care of that when it’s actually daylight. Try and get some rest, Brother. We’ve got church at nine.”
I nod, suddenly weary down to the marrow of my bones. “I’ll try.”
* * *
Surprisingly, once I got the floor mopped, then brought my clothes back upstairs, folded them then put them away, I was able to crash for a few more hours. Thankfully, the nightmare didn’t show up again, allowing me to get some much-needed rest.
Getting up, I dress in my daily wear; jeans, black T-shirt, socks, boots, cut. Running a comb through my hair and beard, I grab my phone, keys, and wallet then head down to grab some more coffee before church. I see one of the women, probably Ryleigh, made muffins so I snag two of them and head into the room where we have church.
“Glad to see you could make it, Brother,” Kracken jeers, surprisingly already in his seat at the well-worn table.
I glare at him before sitting down on Brick’s right. “Fucker, we haven’t started yet,” I retort, before demolishing the first muffin in three bites. Damn, I’m hungry.
Brick looks around and satisfied that we’re all there, nods to the prospect at the door who closes it. He then bangs his gavel and yells, “Shut the fuck up, we’ve got shit to discuss!”
“Rainman, give us a financial report,” Brick instructs, looking at our treasurer. As the man in question discusses profits and what that’ll mean for all of us, I briefly wonder if Brick was able to talk to the club in Texas.
Because something’s gotta give. I need to be on my toes at all times and lack of rest makes that nearly impossible. One wrong move, one lapse in judgment, and we could find ourselves in trouble as a club.
Not that we have many enemies or issues these days. While the club wasn’t totally into illegal stuff back in the day, Brick has completely legitimized all that we do. Well, except the gun parts we transport up to the coast. It’s a sweet system that our Louisiana chapter implemented once they started manufacturing them with a 3D printer system. Still, we were taught to always expect the unexpected, and right now, my mind’s not fully in the game.
