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“It’s alright, Ceilo. I explained.” She shakes her head.
“He will not be coming back here. You’re safe.” King announces from behind the couch.
I glare at him.
“What do you mean? It’s not his fault I had a flashback. It’s late, we haven’t been sleeping, and he shouldn’t be banned from the clubhouse because of me.” He shakes his head at her.
“No, we don’t need any of them around us.” Oh, hell no.
I stand to curse him out, but Milly beats me to it.
“Absolutely fucking not. We do not judge an entire people for the actions of a few. Shame on you, Lucas Cole. What the fuck would your mother think? Is that the type of person your father would want running his club?” King stumbles back from her comments and pales.
He turns and leaves the room without a word.
“Harsh Ceilo,” Preist whispers.
“Fuck that. It was exactly what he needed to fucking hear. We can’t keep tiptoeing around him. He lost his leg over there, not his fucking brain.” I pat Milly’s leg.
“How about I take this little guy so you can both rest?” She nods, and I take a sleeping Cole from her arms.
I hang around while everyone goes back to their rooms, and then I go searching for Lucas. I knock on his door, but he doesn’t answer. I open the door anyway and find him with a photo of his parents in his hand.
“Big shoes to fill, huh?” He puts the photo down and doesn’t turn to look at me.
“Can I give you a piece of advice?” I come around to face him.
His eyes are so sad and lost.
“You need to remind yourself of why you fought so hard to live.” I place Cole in his arms as he starts to protest.
“Steady, hold his head. Good.” He turns panicked, filled eyes on me.
“Look at your namesake, Lucas. He is why you fight to live. You need to figure out how you are going to give him a reason to look up to you. The next generation doesn’t need a Satan to run this club. They need a King.” I walk slowly to the door so he knows I plan to leave him with his baby cousin.
He needs to find himself again. Cole will help ground him. I hear a small sob as I close the door.
And it’s not from the baby.
CHAPTERELEVEN
SPARROW
“Sparrow?”Malachi sounds sleepy when he speaks.
“Do you know the legend of a sparrow for sailors?” I turn into his driveway and shut the truck off.
“No,” I nod and smile.
“My grandfather was Navajo. He was drafted into the Navy when he was young. According to sailors, a sparrow will carry the soul to heaven after death. Grandpa had the tattooed on his chest. My mother always said I brought her back to life. When I joined the club, my brother gave me the road name to honor her.” He reaches over and takes my hand, raising it to his lips.
“Thank you for telling me. Ready for that shower?” I smile.
He gets out of the truck, and we climb up the porch steps to find the front door.
“Seriously, those fuckers left my house open?” We left with a few officers still taking pictures of the house to get Wolf out of jail.
That seemed like days ago. This has been the longest day in history.
