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“Yeah, sugar, he is.”
She swallowed and licked her lips. “But you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did you do it?” she asked carefully, holding her breath.
“You asked me not to.”
“Who did?”
“Does it matter?” It felt like a rock was sitting on my chest. If she had to know, I’d tell her. But even if Rumi was willing to take responsibility for saving my life, I didn’t want him to bear the brunt of her hurt. He was my brother, and he drove me crazy most of the time—but I needed him and my wife to be able to lean on each other should something happen down the line. That’s what family did. They took care of each other.
“No,” she replied, finally. “It doesn’t matter.”
She rushed toward me, but my arms were already wide open, and I caught her easily, lifting her off the floor.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she murmured against my neck.
“It’s been a fuckin’day,” I replied. “I’m so tired I could sleep standin’ up.”
“Me too.”
“Lockdown is over, sugar. So we can go—shit.”
“Your mom already told me we can stay in the guest room,” she mumbled, her face still pressed to my neck. “And Charlie said Bishop will make our house a priority.”
“That’s good news.” I set her back on her feet.
“What about Noel?” she asked, biting the inside of her cheek.
“You know that she’s always welcome with us, right?” I asked, brushing little tendrils of hair away from her face.
“Yeah.”
“But we gotta call your mom, Esther. We need to tell her that Noel’s safe and she’s with us.”
“Okay.” Esther nodded.
I stared at her in confusion. “Okay?That’s it?”
“Otto, you said my dad’s gone.” She smiled sadly. “So there’s nothing scary waiting for her at home.”
It was a mass exodus from the club, with everyone getting in everyone else’s way, anxious to get home, but I couldn’t even be irritated about it. Esther had tucked herself under my armpit and was pressed against my side from the moment we left my dad’s room to the moment I helped her into my mom’s SUV. We’d decided to wait on calling her mom until after we got back to my parents’ house and drew the short straw, so Titus and Noel rode home with us.
“Where’s your car?” I asked him, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
He and Noel had been keeping a little distance between themselves since we got back to the clubhouse, but in the darkness of the back seat were holding hands.
“Dad said a prospect was going to pick it up and bring it back to the club,” Titus replied glumly. “He said I’m not goin’ to be usin’ it for the next year, so he didn’t want it clutterin’ up the driveway.”
“You knew you were goin’ to be in deep shit,” I reminded him.
“I didn’t think they’d take my fuckin’ car,” he argued. “I paid for it.”
“They own you until you’re eighteen, bud. Suck it up.”
“It’s bullshit.”
