If I could ever see him again without worrying about Mason interfering.
“You kicked Garrett’s ass because you thought he was just using me for sex. Maybe that night, maybe not. But there’s no manipulation here, Mason. It’s genuine affection. And if that’s something you can’t handle, then please leave. And when you do leave, please don’t bother Garrett again. I don’t care if you don’t like him, but don’t bother him.”
I did care if he didn’t like him, but I knew I had to take baby steps.
Mason nodded, rose from the kitchen table, and walked to the front door. He paused, bowed his head, looked like he was about to say something more to me, and then left without another word.
Although I was left by myself, I felt quiet optimism that my words had somehow gotten through to him. The bitter anger, the explosive outburst, the uncontrolled rage…that was gone. The resistance to what I said still remained, but there was a sliver of hope.
But now, though, I had to make the most of that hope. I had to reach back out to Garrett.
Because with the baby due in barely a month and with the possibility that it could come at any moment, time was running out for us to reconnect.
Garrett
Although Mason had struck the fear of God into me after our initial brawl, enough time eventually passed that, one, I stopped worrying about him ambushing me, and two, I decided that I’d taken my punishment.
It was one thing to let Mason take his blows at me because he’d felt aggrieved at what his sister and I had done. It was a very different thing for him to continue to whip my ass, and I wasn’t going to let it. Strike me once? Justified. Strike me twice? That’s trouble. Strike me three times? I’m fucking hitting you back.
But just because we hadn’t fought didn’t mean that the club was without its issues. Mason and I went out of our way to avoid hanging out with each other, and though we each defended the club and didn’t sabotage ourselves or anyone else in it, we weren’t where we needed to be.
Which was why, after months of distancing myself from him and just weeks away from my child coming into this world, shit had to stop. I had to fucking make this right.
The work shift had just ended for the day, and Steele was in the process of closing down the auto repair shop. I had seen Brock go to the clubhouse with Cole earlier. Though Mason wasn’t around, I knew that he wasn’t far. I walked over to the clubhouse, opened the door, and walked to Brock and Cole shooting some pool. They went silent when they saw me.
“Are we just going to let this bullshit keep going?”
“What do you mean?” Brock said.
He didn’t sound surprised by my question. If anything, he almost looked relieved that I was finally talking about it.
“Mason and me,” I said.
Brock shrugged.
“I’m not getting involved in your problems,” he said. “Act like men and resolve it.”
“You know…”
I bit my lip. Brock was right. I’d thought that as club president, he’d be the one to broker peace, but he was making a point. I looked to Cole, but Cole just nodded his head toward Brock, as if saying I needed to listen to him. When I turned back to the club president, he was readying a pool shot, as if he’d already forgotten the point of our talk and had moved on.
“All right,” I said. “You might want to have someone come with me, though, just in case we beat the shit out of each other.”
“Good point,” Brock said begrudgingly. “Butch will be here in about ten minutes.”
He’s coming down again?
“Don’t look surprised,” he said. “We’re in the final stages of our initiation from what Cole’s telling me. Butch is coming down to make sure we don’t fuck it up.”
“And so he’s going to be mediator?”
“He’s damn fucking good at it,” Cole said. “But that’s not what he’s going to do.”
Fuck. I really could have used a shot of liquid courage. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had a shot, though. I certainly hadn’t done a lot of what I used to.
Although, to some extent, I preferred to think that instead of trying to avoid previous bad habits, I was just slowly reverting to who I really was—a guy who went hard but ultimately preferred to give a fuck about one club and one person, not one club and multiple bitches. I wasn’t about to admit that out loud, not with the recruiting tool hot girls could be, but with the baby due very soon, it was something I was beginning to recognize as truth.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s get the Mountain Man out here. And then we’ll head to the house.”
