Silver’s still asleep beside me, his chest rising and falling in slow breaths. His face is more relaxed than it ever is during waking hours. The hard lines have softened, and the tension has eased from his jaw. Even with the bruises and the swollen eye, he looks almost peaceful.
I watch him for a long moment, my thoughts drifting.
Things are scary right now. Tom’s betrayal has cracked the club wide open, and there are enemies circling from every direction. Silver’s got a target on his back, and by extension, so do I.
But I want to stick by him anyway.
He’s done the same for me. When I was broken and hurting and had nowhere else to turn, Silver was there. He protected me and believed in me. He made me feel like I was worth fighting for for the first time in my life.
I’m done being overlooked. Done hiding away and shrinking myself to make other people comfortable. I want to be Silver’s old lady, and I don’t give a fuck what anybody thinks about it.
They might say being with him is a mistake, but he’s the only thing that’s ever felt right.
Silver stirs beside me, his next breath sounding thick, almost like a snore. His good eye cracks open, bleary and unfocused, and I smile down at him.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” I murmur, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his bruised jaw.
He grunts, reaching up to rub a hand over his face. “What time is it?”
“Time to get moving.” I slide out of bed, already reaching for my clothes. “I’ll fix the coffee.”
An hour later, we’re dressed and heading to the Steel Saloon.
The morning air is crisp and cold, our breath fogging in front of us as we climb into Silver’s truck. Neither of us says much on the drive over.
There’s too much weighing on our minds. But Silver keeps one hand on my thigh the whole way, his thumb tracing absent patterns on my jeans.
A couple cars and bikes are already parked in the club lot when we pull up. The sight sends a flutter of nerves through my stomach.
This is it. The beginning of whatever comes next.
We enter the saloon to find others gathered. Mace is standing near the bar, his arms crossed and his expression grim. Cash and Ozzie are nearby, talking in low voices.
The old ladies are here too, Sydney, Zoe, and Korine clustered together at one of the tables, their faces tense with worry.
Silver squeezes my hand once, then releases it. “I’ll be back.”
He heads over to the men, and I make my way to the ladies, sliding into a chair beside Korine.
“What’s going on?”
“Apparently Tom reached out to Logan late last night,” Sydney answers. “He’s requested a one-on-one meeting. But hewanted it to be only him and Silver with Logan mediating. To hash things out.”
My brows knit together. “Why Logan? Because he’s the older son?”
“He and Tom have always been closer,” Sydney says, shrugging. “He and Mace have always had issues. Even though it was Tom’s poor strategizing that almost got Logan killed years ago... it seems like he’s still his favorite son.”
Zoe scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Ozzie’s been talking to Logan about his father’s return. He wants basically nothing to do with him. He doesn’t want Tom anywhere near TeyshaorChloe.”
“I’m not sure I blame him,” I murmur under my breath.
We sit together for the next hour while the men have their meeting in the office. The door stays firmly closed, muffled voices occasionally rising and falling behind it. I try to follow the conversation around me, but my mind keeps drifting.
“So when’s opening night for the play?” Korine asks, nudging my arm.
I blink, pulling myself back to the present. “Um. Next month. We’re still in rehearsals.”
“You nervous?” Zoe asks.
