Staring out the window as we pull onto the highway, I take a deep breath. “It hurt to be kept in the dark, especially by someone I trust, but I know loyalty to the club comes first. I just wish it didn’t have to cost our friendship.”
Londyn’s face softens with understanding. “I’ve missed you more than I can say,” I whisper, my voice catching. “These last few weeks… I felt lost without you.”
A small, hopeful smile tugs at her lips. “I’ve missed you too, Em. Losing you was one of the hardest parts of all this. If you’ll let me, I want to make it up to you.”
Reaching across the console, I squeeze her hand, letting her know it’s time to let go of the hurt. “You don’t need to make anything up to me. Just… no more secrets, okay?”
She nods firmly. “No more secrets,” she promises.
There’s a lot we need to discuss and work through, but I’m hopeful we can rebuild our friendship. With the hospital less than ten miles away, Londyn gives me a quick update on Silas’s condition. I’m surprised to hear he’s been awake and talking, though mostly out due to the pain medication. My anxiety spikes as I realize he might be awake when I get there, and I have no idea what I’m going to say.
Stepping off the elevator at the hospital, I’m immediately struck by the sight of several Royal Bastard members lining the hall, their faces set with quiet resolve. Their presence radiates solidarity, each of them here for Maverick as if they’re standing guard. The scene stirs memories of my own childhood, growing up in the Rebel Riders. The atmosphere back then couldn’t have been more different. Our club was chaos, barely held together, reckless and unorganized. They were driven by impulse more than any true brotherhood. It was always the next ride or the next fight, loyalty wrapped in trouble rather than purpose.
My dad tried to change things, make the club into something for everyone, but the Prez loved living on the edge, stirring up trouble that followed us everywhere. It’s why my mother isn’t here today, caught in the crossfire with a rival MC that no one truly understood. Being part of that club felt more like surviving a storm with no one to really lean on. Now, seeing the Bastards gathered here for Maverick, I sense a strength and kinship I never felt in my father’s club. They’re here for no other reason than because they’re a family.
My steps are a little shaky as I make my way down the hall, feeling a bit out of place. I’m not sure what to expect since the only two people I know are Malcolm and Londyn. One byone, they offer open smiles, nods, and encouraging pats on the shoulder. The warmth of their hugs and easy introductions fill me with unexpected reassurance.
“I’m Steel,” says a tall broad-shouldered man, whose fierce expression softens with his smile. He’s broody, but reminds me of a gentle giant. Next is a man with the most striking raven hair I’ve ever seen.
“Name’s Lone Wolf. Mav’s pictures don’t do you justice,” he compliments with a friendly wink, pulling me into a hug and kissing my cheek. As the introductions continue, I’m overwhelmed by the love they all have for Silas and it brings me comfort knowing he has this unwavering support. It feels surreal having this line of strangers welcome me as though I belong. And for the first time, I feel like I just might.
“It's nice to meet all of you and thank you for being here for Silas… I mean, Maverick. I’m going to go in and see him now,” I say, feeling a sense of calm settle over me.
“We wouldn’t be anywhere else, Em,” Malcolm replies, wrapping his arms around Londyn as she leans against him. The ease between them is so natural, like they’ve known each other forever. Facing the double doors leading to the patient rooms, I take a deep breath, unsure of what to say to Silas if he’s awake.
Do I apologize for not listening to him before? If I had listened, would I have forgiven him, saving us both from this month of distance? My love for him has been at war with my own confusion, and I know now that much of my reaction came from anger. Being lied to, being taken… it made me feel like I had to reclaim control over my life, to protect myself in the only way I knew how.
Stepping quietly into Silas’s hospital room, I take in the sight of him lying there, his face softened in sleep, a little bruised but at peace. Crossing the room slowly, my eyes linger on him, tracing over every familiar feature and the bandages wrappinghis chest. My heart quickens with the need to touch him, hold him, wanting to feel him but my mind tells me to proceed with caution.
Moving closer, I sink into the chair beside his bed, a rush of emotions flood through me as I instinctively reach for his hand, careful not to disturb him. My eyes mist over as I take in every detail of his face, my heart stirring with the longing I tried to bury. I stare down at our hands, my skin on his, yearning for the time before everything went to hell and I realize, despite what’s happened, Silas still feels like home.
What I’m feeling is stronger than expected. Seeing him like this, pale, bandaged, vulnerable… it all makes my heart ache in a way that I’m not fully prepared for. It's in this moment that I realize how much I truly miss having him in my life and the space I’ve put between us didn’t lessen my love for him, but made it hurt all the more.
“Silas… I didn’t realize how much I missed you until Londyn told me what happened,” I quietly confess, grazing his knuckles with my thumb. “I’ve spent so much time holding onto my anger, but I think I’m ready to let it go. If you’re willing to talk when you wake up, I’ll be here to listen. I just need to understand.” My thoughts spiral as darker possibilities creep in. What if I missed my chance to hear his side? What if, in my silence and stubborn refusal to talk, he’s decided to move on?
Taking a deep breath, I add, “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want us to find a way to move forward, whatever that means. Just… get better and I’ll be here.”
TWENTY-FIVE
MAVERICK
Ember’s voice…fighting through the haze of medication, I force my eyes open, half-expecting to still be in a dream. The dull ache from my wounds sharpens as I try to move, grounding me in reality. My gaze settles on Ember, her hand wrapped around mine, her voice soft as she speaks. It isn’t a dream. She’s really here.
“Ember,” I murmur, my voice rough but filled with relief. The warmth in her eyes softens the sting of my pain, grounding me even more. “I need to explain… everything I kept from you.”
Shaking her head, she presses her fingers gently to my lips. “Silas, we have time for that later,” she says, her voice filled with a tenderness I haven’t heard in so long. “Right now, just rest and focus on healing.”
At that moment, the doctor steps in, clipboard in hand. “Good to see you awake, Mr. Bouvier. And you must be Mrs. Bouvier,” he says, offering his hand to Ember.
“Yes, I’m Silas’s wife.” The pride in her voice brings a surge of emotion, and I do everything I can to hold it together.
The doctor begins his examination, lifting the bandages and checking my stitches. I grit my teeth as he presses aroundthe sore areas, but finally, he nods approvingly. “Everything’s healing well. The oxygen therapy is working and if this progress continues, you’ll be ready for release in a couple of days.”
“Will he need to continue the therapy once he’s home?” Ember asks, her voice edged with concern
“Only if he has a setback, but I’m confident he won’t,” the doctor assures. “We’ll reassess at his follow up appointment and go from there. Your husband is very lucky Mrs. Bouvier.” She thanks him for the update and as he leaves, an easy silence settles between us.
“Thank you for being here, Em. I know… we’ve got a lot to work through,” I say, my hand still entwined in hers. “I don’t want to push you, but I want you to know I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
