Wrecker gave a small laugh. “That’s another reason I love you, Doc. You patch us up and still help protect our networks and shit.”
Next came the pack health update, which was mostly Doc telling us the pups were healthy, nothing serious was going around, and that Juliet was “popping twins in just a couple months, and she’s already tired of everyone telling her she’s glowing.”
“She’s a saint for putting up with us,” Big Papa's voice was gentle for a man whose hands looked like they could bend rebar. “And Gunner, you need anything, you let us know. We’re your family. Aspen and Oscar, and I are always here. And hell, you’d for sure get one of her famous lemon tarts out of the deal.”
I nodded, feeling something twist low in my belly. I wanted to say something; maybe thank you, maybe fuck off, I hadn’t decided, but my tongue wouldn’t cooperate.
Pearl poured more coffee, then touched my shoulder just long enough to make me flinch. “You look like hell, honey,” she said, not unkind. “Don’t let whatever’s eating you keep you from your pack. They need you more than you think.”
I forced a smile and lied through my teeth. “I’m good, Pearl. Just tired, is all.”
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur: more talk about supply runs, who’d cover the perimeter, whether or not to upgrade the garage’s security system. My mind wandered. I found myself tracing the wood grain of the table with my thumb, over and over, until my skin went numb.
They mentioned Brie only once, and it was Arsenal who did it. “Harper’s sister’s been quiet,” he said. “Good. Less drama that way.”
My face went hot. I stared at my hands, not trusting myself to look up.
“She’s finding her place,” Bronc said. “Or she will. Eventually.” He gave me a quick look, then let it go.
When the official business wrapped, everyone stood and stretched. The sound of chairs scraping was deafening. I tried to bolt for the door, but Bronc caught my wrist.
“Walk with me,” he said. It wasn’t a request.
Outside, the wind was sharp and sweet, full of prairie grass and the faint musk of wolf. Bronc kept his hands in his pockets, walking slow, like he didn’t want to spook me.
“You gonna tell me what’s really going on, Gunner?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You already know.”
“Say it.”
I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know if she’s mine. I want her, but… I can’t tell if it’s real. Or if I’m just desperate. And she’s so goddamn disagreeable most of the time. Makes it harder, you know? But I still want her smart ass. It’s a fine damn ass. Does that make it real?”
He stopped and looked at me, face open for once. “Doesn’t matter, in the end. Wanting her makes it real enough. Give it time.”
I laughed, rough and ugly. “Don’t have time. Not with everything else. I need to focus, Bronc. I can’t keep screwing up.”
He clapped my shoulder, hard. “You’re not screwing up. You’re just not used to being the one who needs help.”
We stood in silence, just the wind and the distant hum of motorcycles. I wanted to say more, to ask for advice, but the words stuck.
“You’ll figure it out,” he said, turning to go. “And if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass until you do.”
I watched him walk away, tall and solid and unbreakable. Then I went back inside, finished my cold coffee, and stared at the table until Pearl shooed me out.
I told myself I’d get over it. I was lying.
The next morning, sun not even cracked over the horizon, I was already shoveling feed into the stalls and wondering why the hell I was so tired. I’d only slept four hours, but that was normal, and the dark had been full of dreams I’d rather not remember. Mostly, I remembered Brie, and that pissed me off more than anything.
By eight a.m., it was time to face the officers again. Monday meant weekly review of anything not handled in the big church meeting, and I knew what was coming. Bronc liked to handle certain things in private, but with Arsenal, everything was a goddamn formation drill, “run it by the book,” even if you didn’t like what the book said.
I showed up ten minutes early, just in case. Wrecker was already there, elbows deep in a box of donuts and reading messages off three different screens at once. He shot me a look, smirked, then went back to his hackathon.
Bronc and Arsenal walked in together, talking quiet, like I wasn’t supposed to hear. But my intuition was good enough to figure they'd decided on something about me.
Big Papa ambled in, folding his arms across his chest and surveying the room like he was waiting for someone to start a fight. Doc came in last,coffee already half-gone, phone out, not paying attention to anyone unless someone started bleeding.
Pearl was nowhere to be seen this time. There was coffee, but no food, which set the whole tone as less comfort, more confrontation.
