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He’d been replaced by a baby. And not just that. The house had four fucking bedrooms. They could’ve picked any of the others, but no, they’d taken his fucking room from him. The only fucking thing he had that was his.
What the hell had they even done with his things? Thrown them out?
He slammed the door shut and went in search of his things. He looked through every room, getting increasingly more agitated each time he didn’t find any of his stuff.
It wasn’t until he went into the basement that he found boxes with his name written on the side.
He pulled them down onto the ground and opened them.
Three boxes of clothes. That was all he had left.
He went through some of Sully’s stuff and found a backpack which he stuffed to the brim with his clothes.
He walked up the stairs and into the living room where he grabbed a charger for his phone and then he headed for the front door.
He blamed the anger for why he didn’t hear them.
He was in the hallway when the door opened and Ash stepped inside. An obviously very pregnant Ash. After her came his brother. They were talking, smiles on their faces while Ash had a hand on her round belly.
He could only glare at them.
He had done every-fucking-thing he could to protect his family the past year. He’d kept them safe while they’d all but forgotten he even existed. They’d fucking erased him from their lives.
Ash noticed him first, a small gasp escaping her.
“Jack,” Sully croaked out, the panic on his brother’s face confirming everything he thought. Everything he’d hoped wasn’t true.
He grabbed his helmet off the wall, then pushed past both of them, hitting only Sully with his shoulder on the way out. He might be pissed, but he wasn’t slamming-into-a-pregnant-lady pissed.
He ignored Sully’s yells and pulled the straps of the backpack over his shoulders, then put on his helmet, got on his bike, and drove off.
He had nowhere to go.
He couldn’t stay at the clubhouse. The rooms were reserved for full-patch members, and he wasn’t even a fucking member anymore. A hotel was out of the question, too. He didn’t have a single dime to his name.
There were only so many people he could go to without it getting back to King. Not having a home wasn’t something he wanted King to know. He already thought he was a lost cause. He didn’t need to make it worse.
He couldn’t go to Len no matter how much he needed the only mother figure he had left. She had enough to deal with already. Saint and Nash were out of the question, too. They had their kids. They didn’t need an extra roommate.
The only ones left were Jet and Walker.
Chapter Three
Zero
HE PULLED out his key and unlocked the door, stepping inside with a smile on his face. He could hear Walker and Jet in the kitchen and headed in that direction.
He’d stayed with them for almost a year before he’d earned enough money to rent his own place. He was still struggling a bit to make ends meet and it didn’t help that he’d had no luck finding a roommate.
He missed having someone around. Before his last foster home, he’d been on his own for a while and he’d hated it. He’d never been alone in prison, though. He’d had Walker as a cellmate for three years, and after him, there’d been Jonas then Rick. Finding a roommate out in the real world who didn’t mind living with a convicted murderer hadn’t exactly proved easy.
He reached the doorway to the kitchen and came to a halt, a wry smile finding his lips.
Walker was preparing some meat for dinner while Jet was struggling with a bowl of dough that looked unsalvageable which Walker teased him about.
Jet scooped some of his very runny dough onto his spatula and threw it at Walker. It hit his chest and ran down his shirt and onto the floor. Walker looked down at the mess, then slowly raised his head.
Jet pointed at him with the spatula while he backed away.
