He’s up on his elbows as I lean in for another kiss.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he says.
“Tonight.”
I make my way to the shower, the weight on my shoulders feeling a little less heavy, but it’s still there. There’s still so much I haven’t let myself feel, and I feel guilty over it.
How can I want to forget everything that happened while also wanting to hold certain memories close to my heart? It’s a truly hopeless feeling.
Being safe, having my pack, and the club the way it is truly eases some of the discomfort. I know Leon would have been so proud of what Tate is doing here; I just have to hold on to that and try to live my life in a way he would be proud of, too.
“I really don’t knowwhy I need to see Doc,” Axel complains as I tug on his hand while we walk to the clubhouse.
“Well, I want him to look at my scar and no one has looked at your arm. You got shot,” I remind him.
“It wasn’t even that bad. I’m fine.”
I roll my eyes at him and pull the Omega/wife card.
“I’m your wife, and it would make me feel more settled if you went and saw him,” I tell him.
“You’re a fuckin’ menace. You know I can’t say no to that.”
“Exactly, now quit your bitching. Let’s go.”
He lets me tug him along the dirt road as we walk through the clubhouse and go to the back room, which is set up as Doc’s infirmary.
He gives me a polite smile and pats the table for me to sit down.
“What’s going on, love?” he asks.
“Don’t call her love,” Axel growls behind me.
“Can we have some privacy?” I ask, turning back to look at Axel.
He narrows his eyes at me and then at Doc, but leaves the room.
“Touchy one, your Beta,” Doc teases.
I shrug and wring my hands together.
“Is there something you wanted to talk about? Are you hurting somewhere besides your face?” he asks. His touch is soft as he looks at my scar with approval.
“I know I can’t really leave the compound right now, and that I have a pack and everything. But I don’t want to unload all this grief onto them,” I confess.
I know Doc was a doctor in the Defence Forces, but he feels like the only one I can ask. When you’re around a bunch of bikers, mental health isn’t at the forefront of everyone’s mind.
“I have a friend. They can do everything virtually,” he says, pulling out a card and handing it to me.
“You had that ready to go, just like that?”
“Tried to give Shelby one,” Doc says with a shrug.
“And what did she say?”
“To fuck off and for my ginger-ass to get the hell out of her business,” he sighs.
“That sounds like her. Maybe I can talk to her.”
