“You know that term predates the wheel. Old lady.”
“Can’t wait until Catfish makes youhisold lady,” Atom replies playfully. “Or whatever the nonbinary version of that is.”
“Think I’d rather choke on a bag of cement than be called that,” Wren says.
Across from us, Grudge shakes his head. “Way this is going, you’re gonna need a patch name, eventually.”
“What about old trouble?” Wraith asks. “Wren’s a handful.”
That gets a round of chuckles.
“Not sure why I’m old anything, seeing as I’m younger than you all are,” Wren says.
“Old code?” Taco asks. “Since they’re always glued to their laptop.”
Wren folds their arms across their chest. “Absolutely not.”
“Old flame?” Jackal says. “Wait. No, that means something totally different, doesn’t it?”
“That was ridiculous,” Shade mutters.
“If you’re all quite finished, I’m not patching in, so I don’t need your labels.”
I throw my arm over their shoulder. “What if I want you to have one?”
Wren raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
I nod. “Yeah. Always had a dream about having a permanent backpack on my bike. Someone wearing a property patch. Someone wearing a name I’ve given ‘em to show they mean something to me.”
“Are you listening to this, Atom?” Smoke says. “You should try being romantic with Ember from time to time.”
“Fuck you,” Atom says. “I’m romantic behind closed doors.”
But my eyes remain on Wren. “I’d never call you my old lady because it doesn’t fit.”
“Damn right it doesn’t.”
“But what if I call you my old half? Because some of you and me makes me whole.” I step right into their space. “Or maybe you’re my old heart, because you keep mine beating.”
The corner of Wren’s lip lifts in a smile. “Fine, old heart, because old half sounds a bit like I’m half old lady, half old man, which is weird.”
I run my thumb over their lower lip. “Old heart it is.”
“Fine,” they say again. “But it stays in the club. If anyone outside hears it, I deny all knowledge of it.”
“Understood.”
“Forget and I’ll rewire your bike to explode at sixty miles per hour with you on it.”
I grin at that, and in spite of the rest of my brothers being right there, I kiss Wren in front of them.
It’s no use pretending anymore. Plus, I just don’t fucking want to.
“You’re so romantic,” I whisper.
They kiss me back. “Only for you.”
The phone in Grudge’s hand rings, and he looks at it for a second before remembering it’s Wren’s.
