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“Stop moving the fucking camera, Scribe. I can’t see shit!” I heard Gunner shout, as Scribe grinned evilly. “Sucks to be you, donkey dicks!”
Disconnecting the call, Scribe winked at me before heading off to congratulate my brother. Since the wedding, Scribe has been plotting his revenge, because he learned it was Gunner who told Cameron about the mud and sent my brother off with the remaining tub of it, knowing Cameron would create a mess.
The second Cameron spilled the beans, Scribe was a single man on a mission. His latest venture had Gunner pissing his pants when he walked into the garage to find two donkeys fucking.
Apparently, Gunner had an aversion to donkeys.
“You ready to head home, baby?” Chase asked, kissing my neck.
Smiling, I nodded.
After the revelation of Ellie’s death, Sheriff McClure handed in his badge, blaming himself for not looking further into Ellie’s accident. While no one blamed him, Sheriff McClure’s heart wasn’t in it anymore and he handed over his badge. The town immediately held an election and when no one challenged him, Mike Brewer became the new sheriff of Rosewood.
Beth was ecstatic.
Gunner, not so much, because the first ticket Mike issued was to him for doing thirty in a twenty-five.
As for Chase, he was still having a hard time with everything that had happened. Instead of bottling it up, his talks with King and Scribe became a weekly occurrence. Even I joined him occasionally for support. I knew that in time, Chase would move past this and start to live again. The grief and pain of losing Ellie would always be with him. I knew that now and accepted it. I still had days myself when I thought of my parents. I missed them dearly, but life moved on.
I knew my parents would want that.
A few days later, I was sitting on the couch in the main room of the clubhouse when Bailey walked in, rolling her eyes as Scribe stormed in after her.
“Woman, if you don’t stop saying that shit and putting it out in the universe, I’m gonna make your life hell.”
“You better face the facts, Scribe. You are running out of time.”
“Am not!”
“Whatever,” she sighed, plopping herself down next to me on the sofa. “You were the last one to dance with me. You’re just scared.”
“I’m not scared of shit!”
“What’s going on?” Chase asked, walking over with King, who was looking at his phone.
“Pussylips is fucking girding hisloins in fear. He was the last one to dance with me at the wedding.”
“And?” Chase asked, quirking his head.
“God, you guys are fucking morons sometimes.”
“Cupcake, what the hell are you going on about this time?” King groaned.
“I’m talking about the club dance. You know the tradition this club has.”
“What about it?” I asked, curious myself, as Gunner walked over with Sarah, helping her to sit next to me. Poor girl looked freaking miserable. Her belly was freakishly huge, but no one said a damn thing as Gunner threatened immediate death if they did.
“Think about it, Scribe,” Bailey smirked evilly as her best friend stiffened. “When Gunner married Sarah, who was the last person she danced with?”
“Pyro,” Sarah grimaced, rubbing her bellyin one spot.
“Exactly!” Bailey smiled. “And Skylar, who was the last person you danced with when the club celebrated your marriage?”
“Uh...it was King.” I smirked, knowing where she was going with this.
“And the last person I danced with was Scribe. So, that means Mr. Pussylips is going down next.”
“I’m not getting married!”
