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I pull back to look at him.
"Don't be afraid," he says, his expression somber. "They wanted to be here to support you."
"I… Really?" I ask, shellshocked that they're here.
He nods, bumping his forehead against mine. "You're family now, angel. What happens to one of us happens to all of us. I'd like you to meet them. If you'd rather them wait in the main waiting room after that, they're willing to do that. They'll give you as much space as you need, but they wanted to be here anyway."
Guilt whispers through me, humbling me. I was so quick to judge them. Now that I know Tate and the kind of man he is, Iknowhow unfair I was to assume every MC was like the one that killed Siobhan. If Tate trusts his brothers, I trust his brothers. How can I not? There isn't a cruel bone in Tate's body, and he would never associate himself with men capable of doing such horrible things.
"They don't have to do that," I say, shaking my head. "I want to meet them."
"Are you sure?" he asks. "I don't want to push, angel. Not today."
"I want to meet them," I say again, meaning it.
"My fierce little angel," he whispers, pressing his lips to my forehead. "As soon as surgery is finished, I'll be out to find you."
"I know." I squeeze him tight. "D-do everything you can."
"Everything," he vows, his promise reflecting in his eyes. "I love you."
"I love you too."
He releases me and ducks out of the room. I squeeze my eyes closed, not nearly brave enough to watch my whole heart disappear down the hall.
Please, I pray.Please.
A few seconds later, Rhonda, one of the surgery nurses, steps into the pre-op holding room. "You ready, sweetheart?" she asks, giving me a kind smile. "Dr. Grimes asked me to show you out to the family waiting room where he's got your crew corralled."
I glance around the small, windowless room and then nod helplessly. Even though I tell myself I'm not going to look, I find myself peeking down every hallway, looking for Tate and Scout. By the time Rhonda swipes her badge in front of the double doors that bar entry into the surgery suite from the waiting rooms, I haven't seen them.
"You're in here," she says, leading me to the hallway on the right. She pauses outside of a heavy oak door. The low murmur of hushed conversation spills out from within. "There's a coffee station inside and a small snack bar. Lucinda at the front desk knows you're in here. When Jules calls with updates, she'll send them through to the phone back here."
"Thank you," I whisper.
She squeezes my elbow. "Good luck, sweetheart. We're all rooting for Scout."
I swallow hard but don't respond. If I do, I think I might cry. I'd rather not do that right now. Not with Tate's brothers waiting on the other side of the door. Not with Scout in surgery. I'll cry later, once I know she's okay.
Taking a deep breath, I push the door open.
The waiting room is spacious…or it would be if it weren't packed with bodies. Tate's brothers are as big as he is, some even bigger. Troian looks like a little kid next to them. She's not the only woman in the room. A middle-aged woman with gray hair and a motherly smile stands beside the coffee station, passing out cups. A curvy blonde is cuddled up with a dark-haired hunk, listening intently to a giant of a man with a pirate's smile and a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Two men in suits are deep in conversation with a middle-aged man on the far side of the room. He keeps one watchful eye on the woman standing by the coffee pot. A hunk in a t-shirt and glasses, another man in a suit, and one in worn Wranglers and a cowboy hat stand next to her, talking quietly to Gage. Another man stands off to the side, his head bent over his phone. A veritable giant leans against the wall next to him, one booted heel planted against the wall.
Everyone falls silent when they see me. Troian gives me an encouraging smile.
"Hi," I squeak, wringing my hands together.
The hunk with the blonde steps forward to meet me, his dark eyes running over me. "Hi, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft. His expression too. "I'm Jason Montoya, but you can call me Cash. You're Tate's girl?"
"I…Yeah," I whisper, licking my lips. "I'm Samara."
"Hi, Samara," he says, giving me a little smile. "You holding up okay?"
I nod, not sure that's true. I feel like I could crack apart at any minute.
I think Jason…Cash…knows it. His expression softens further. He takes another step toward me, moving slowly, as if he's afraid to startle me.
