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After ensuring Stray is settled and out for the night, I make my way back to the main clubhouse, my thoughts a chaotic swirl. And there, waiting for me, is Ava. Her face is a mix of concern and curiosity, and a pang of guilt tugs at my heart.
“You okay?” She asks, her voice soft.
“Yeah,” I respond, nodding. “Just... need a drink. You want one?”
She hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”
We move toward the bar, the din of the clubhouse buzzing around us. I grab two beers, passing one to Ava. As we lean against the counter, I feel her eyes on me, waiting for an explanation.
“Stray was close to Ace,” I start, taking a swig of my beer. “Ace was... he was his mentor. They were tight.”
Ava’s face softens, understanding dawning in her eyes. “And now that Ace is gone...”
“He’s lost,” I finish for her, my words hanging heavy between us. “And it’s my fault.”
I can see the surprise in her eyes, but before she can respond, I continue. “I should’ve been there, should’ve had his back. But I didn’t, and now Ace is gone, and Stray...”
My words trail off, and I take a long swig of my beer, hoping to drown the guilt that’s threatening to consume me. She puts her hand on mine, but I shrug her off. What the fuck do I think I’m doing right now? Why the hell am I dumping all this on her? She’s already lost so much, and here I am, unloading my guilt, my failures onto her.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, Ava. You don’t need to hear all this. I’m just...”
A piece of shit. That’s what I am. A piece of shit who let his best friend die and is now burdening his sister with his guilt. As I glance at Ava, her face a picture of sympathy and understanding, I feel even worse. She deserves better than this, better than me. But I don’t fucking know what to do. How am I supposed to protect her when men like me are exactly what she should be afraid of?
As I stand there, lost in my own self-loathing, Ava quietly slips off her barstool. “I think I’m going to turn in,” she says gently, her eyes kind but distant. “It’s been a long day.”
I watch her go, a strange mix of relief and disappointment churning in my gut. I take another long pull of my beer, the bitter taste doing little to mask the bitterness in my heart.
The rest of the night blurs into the familiar chaos of the clubhouse. Laughter echoes through the room, mixed with the thumping bass of rock music. The scent of booze and smoke clings to the air, mingling with the faint whiff of perfume from the club bunnies who flit between the members.
I observe the scene from the bar, my mind a million miles away. Brothers are scattered across the room, some getting drunk off their asses, their laughter raucous and infectious. Others are hooking up with the bunnies, their hands roaming over curves as they whisper sweet nothings into eager ears.
Through the haze, I see Shark enter the clubhouse, back from a run. Two of the brothers immediately converge on him, slapping his back and leading him toward the bar. Despite the earlier tension, they’re there for him, ready to pull him back from the edge. It’s this sense of brotherhood, this unfailing loyalty, that holds us together. It’s what we live for, what we’d die for—what some of ushavedied for.
I finish my beer, the bitter aftertaste lingering on my tongue.
* * *
Later, I lie in my dark room, the distant sounds of laughter and raucous merriment echoing from the bar. Every so often, the deep, rumbling bass of a motorcycle revving up breaks through the steady hum of conversation, a stark reminder of the life I’ve chosen.
The bottle of whiskey I’d been nursing seems to have done little to ease my restless mind. Ava’s face, her soft smile, the pity in her eyes when she listened to me spill my guts. And then there’s Stray. He’s just a kid, barely 22, and I laid him out for a little scratch. I picture him sprawled on the clubhouse floor, my brothers watching me with concern. I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me.
I give up on the tossing and turning around 2 a.m. and decide to escape the confines of my room. I grab a beer from the fridge and head outside to the porch, the cool night air offering a small measure of relief from the tormenting thoughts swirling in my mind.
I’m lost in the maze of guilt and regret when I hear the soft creak of the clubhouse door. I glance over my shoulder to find Ava stepping out onto the porch, a glass of water in her hand.
“I saw you heading out here,” she says, her voice soft in the quiet night. “I thought you might want some company.”
I nod, gesturing to the seat beside me. She settles into it, her presence instantly soothing the storm within me. We sit in silence for a while, simply sharing the night and each other’s company.
Eventually, the silence is broken by Ava’s soft voice. “Do you miss him?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Every damn day,” I confess, my voice gruff with emotion.
We fall into a nostalgic rhythm, sharing stories of Ace. The good times, the bad times, the laughter, the tears. We reminisce about his quirks, his courage, his stubbornness. The happy memories spark a warmth in the cold night, the pain of his loss momentarily subsiding.
“Ace always wanted to see the best in people,” Ava says softly, her fingers absent-mindedly tracing the rim of her glass. “Even if they didn’t see it in themselves.”
A heavy sigh escapes my lips. “Sounds about right. He always was the optimistic one, always ready to give someone a second chance. No matter what they’d done.”
