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My mother is visiting again. She’s been worried, and I know that if she’s spending this much time in a place she’s avoided for years, it’s serious.
Her gaze tracks Ava and me. Her eyes, a mirror image of my own, hold a storm of emotions, the most potent of which is fear. It’s as if she’s seeing her past self in Ava, and that terrifies her. A part of me wishes she’d look away, stop seeing the parallels that send chills down her spine. But the more significant part appreciates her concern, her instinct to protect what she loves.
“Brick,” she finally breaks the silence, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her hands, worn from years of hardship, clasp together tightly on her lap. “We need to talk.”
We move away from the crowd, sitting down in a quiet corner of the clubhouse. Her gaze is soft but her tone is firm, the same tone she’d used when lecturing me as a kid.
“Brick, I see how close you and Ava are getting. And I can’t help but worry,” she confesses, her eyes meeting mine. “This life... it’s not easy. And I don’t want Ava to go through what I did.”
The pain in her voice stings me more than any physical blow. I’m aware of the life we lead, the danger it holds. But hearing her put it into words makes it all the more real, all the more frightening.
“I know, Ma,” I respond, my voice gravelly. “I know what this life can do. But I... I care for Ava. And I won’t let her go down the same path.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for the truth in my words. After a long moment, she sighs, a weary but resolute look on her face. “I trust you, kiddo. Just remember, loving someone in this life... it’s about more than just protecting them. It’s about doing what’s best for them, even when it’s hard.”
Her words hang in the air, their weight pressing down on my chest. My mother’s concern adds another layer to the complexity of my feelings, and for a moment, I’m caught in the whirlwind of it all.
“I’ll remember, Ma,” I assure her, my voice steady. The conversation leaves a bittersweet taste, but it also serves as a stark reminder of the reality we live in. The reality Ava is now part of. My mother’s words echo in my mind as I watch Ava from afar, my heart heavy with unspoken promises and silent vows.
As the day dwindles, Ava and I retire to the sanctuary of our shared room. The silence engulfs us, each lost in our own thoughts. The only light comes from the flickering neon sign outside our window, casting dancing shadows across the room.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I can’t shake off the unease that’s settled within me. It’s a tangle of conflicting loyalties and potential consequences, each thought more troubled than the last.
Every decision I make, every action I take, is like a pebble thrown into a pond—creating ripples that touch not just me, but everyone around me. And the fear of those ripples causing harm, particularly to Ava, is enough to keep me awake at night.
As Ava snuggles closer, I wrap my arm around her, drawing her into my chest. Her presence is both comforting and disquieting, a paradox that adds to my restlessness. She looks up into my eyes. “Hey, baby,” I say, kissing her temple. “Where are you?” she asks. I exhale heavily. Of course she can tell I’m brooding. “Right here,” I say, moving her hair aside so I can kiss her neck. She lets out a contented little sigh, then shifts so she’s on her stomach and inches down the bed. We’re both naked already, and she moves slowly, her eyes never leaving mine until her face is level with the part of me that aches for her constantly.
I groan as her mouth covers me and her tongue darts across my sensitive tip. My hands move into her hair instinctively, gripping it as she increases the intensity of her movements. I buck my hips and fuck her mouth until I’m almost too close to the edge to turn back. Then I pull her on top of me. When she sinks down onto me, I sit up and suck one of her perfect nipples into my mouth. She cries out as I flick my tongue over it, rolling the other one between my fingers.
“Fuck, Ava,” I say against her breast. “You’re incredible. I don’t want to taste anything except you ever again. I’ll survive on this right here.” She arches her back as she rides me, and I tug her nipple with my teeth, using the exact amount of pressure I know she loves, and she clutches my head to her, moaning into my ear.
We sail over the edge together, perfectly in sync.
CHAPTER12
Ava
As the days roll on,I find myself increasingly drawn to the intricate tapestry of the Reapers’ dynamics. There’s something fascinating, almost magnetic, about the unwavering loyalty, unity, and brotherhood I observe among them. I catch glimpses of it in their shared laughter, in their solemn moments of silence, in the way they stand shoulder to shoulder, ready to face whatever comes their way. It’s an enchanting blend of raw strength, enduring bonds, and shared purpose that I’ve never seen before.
“Look at you, all deep in thought,” a voice interrupts my reverie. It’s Stray, a friendly grin spread across his face.
“Just observing,” I confess, looking around at the bustling clubhouse.
“And?” he prompts, leaning against the wall next to me.
I pause, searching for the right words. “And I’m beginning to understand why you all love this place so much. There’s a sense of family here, isn’t there?”
Stray’s grin softens into a sincere smile. “You’ve got that right, darlin’. This isn’t just a club, it’s our home.”
Buoyed by this newfound understanding, I find myself eager to participate more in the club’s activities. I start small, assisting with the logistics, keeping track of supplies for the club’s gatherings. It’s a simple job, but I pour myself into it, eager to make a difference, no matter how small.
It isn’t long before I earn a nod of appreciation from Hatchet, the club’s unofficial quartermaster. “You’ve got a knack for this, Ava,” he tells me one afternoon, his gruff voice betraying a hint of respect. “You’re more than just Brick’s old lady. You’re part of us now.”
That acknowledgment, simple as it is, makes me swell with pride. Brick had always treated me as an equal, but to be seen as such by the others... It’s a kind of acceptance I hadn’t expected, but am more than willing to embrace.
I find ways to be more involved, offering help with planning club events, sharing my perspectives in discussions, finding solutions to problems as they arise. The Reapers, in turn, welcome my contributions, the initial awkwardness slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of mutual respect.
Whether it’s through handling the inventory, brainstorming ideas, or just being a listening ear, I do my part. I’m no longer just an outsider looking in, I am a Reaper – in spirit, if not in name – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
