Jocelyn pats my arm gently. “The biggest mistake these men make sometimes is thinking we need protection from one thing when really it's something else. I owe you an apology, Winnie. I heard the way some of the wives talked to you. I also heard what the club whores were saying, and I didn’t step in. Part of me thought you needed to show them who you were, that it would make you stronger. The other part of me was apprehensive because you and Dodger weren’t solidifying what you were, and I wasn’t sure if your stance on being with the other brothers would change because of it. It wasn’t until I saw your face that day, when you asked about the runs, that I started to understand something was wrong. Then you left, and Dodger finally told Daggerz everything. I felt as guilty as he did for not making you feel closer to the club, to feel like you were part of our family. You chose to leave it all behind instead.”
Her words send a deep pang to my heart. The validation feels good, and so does the apology. Being the queen of the club can’t be easy when you’re trying to please everyone. “Thank you, Jocelyn. I did leave because of our issues as a couple. But you’re right, I didn’t feel like I had the choice to rely on the club either.”
Her worried green eyes search my face, and she gently holds my hand. “We can’t go back, but I hope, going forward,we can start small. While you’re here. Whether you decide to stay or leave, know that we’re here for you this time. You’re one of us ladies more than you realize.”
My conversation with her allowed for more understanding about things in the club that I didn’t comprehend at that time. While Finn had been pushing me away, they weren’t sure where loyalties lay either. Our relationship was already kind of an outlier in the club, and with him being a patched member and me pulling away from everyone, they chose to stand by him.
Still, knowing what Finn did and having him pull away is something else entirely for how he treated me. It doesn’t take back the things he said that broke my heart, or the nights I lay awake wondering what was wrong with me for him not to love me anymore. He claims he never stopped, but I’m too tired and scared to have that conversation. Not with our enemies close, and the club still waiting to hear back from Mr. Bianchi Sr. So, I make peace with the fact that I’m sharing my dream house with my ex-boyfriend. I make the choice to ignore the rising tension between us and focus instead on working with him to make the arrangement bearable. It feels less like walking on fragile glass and more like skating on possible open water. There are signs pointing out where the danger is, and for me, that is watching Finn chop wood, fix his truck, clean the house, do laundry, or make meals.
I don’t know what it is about watching him chop up vegetables, knowing whatever he makes on the stove or on the grill is going to taste delicious, but it makes me feel doe-eyed over him. Which is silly, because we cooked together plenty of times in the past. Maybe it's because I haven’t had someone else take care of me this personally in a long time. Or maybe it's because he doesn’t let me help. Last night I was forced to sit and drink my wine while watching him cook for me. According to Lyric, it more than likely has to do with the fact that his t-shirtsmold to his chest and torso like a second skin, and every time he moves, his muscles ripple and jump underneath. I swear he knows where my eyes land more often than not, too, judging by the smirks that grace his lips. The same lips that stole my breath away a week ago with a kiss we absolutely do not talk about in this small truce.
My hand comes up to slap my forehead. “Let it go,” I mumble to myself, glad that Finn is locked away in his office right now. He got a call ten minutes ago from Squirrel and ducked in there. I’m assuming it isn’t about Bianchi, or else I would be involved. Finn has been very strict about making sure I’m included anytime the man’s last name comes up. My heart twists every time he keeps his word. If it's about me, I have the right to know.
Right as I place the last of my clean towels in the laundry basket, I can hear Finn’s footsteps charging down the hallway. My head snaps up in his direction. Across the space, our gazes collide. The fierce intensity that is staring back at me has the hair on the back of my neck rising.
“Did something happen?”
His jaw clenches, and his eyes drop for a second before coming back to me. “Prez talked to Bianchi. He has news, and I wanted you to be there.”
I scoot around the living room furniture reaching for him at the same time, he reaches for my free hand. I don’t even question letting Finn hold onto me as I follow him back to his massive office. Once again, the monitors are up, flicking around to all angles of the property. Another is monitoring the GPS trackers that were inside me. According to Finn, every day, a different brother puts them in their pockets and walks around the clubhouse, giving Marco data, so he isn’t suspicious. So far, nothing has happened, and as far as Inspector is sure, they are not rigged to explode should Marco find out that they aren’t in me anymore.
Finn closes the door behind me and hits a green button on a different screen. Prez’s face fills the monitor, and I realize we must be on a video call.
“She’s here, Prez,” Finn states. I watch him as he moves to sit on the top of his desk. His body is still tense, like he’s bracing for bad news, and it instantly has me on edge.
“Good to see ya, darlin’.” Prez tilts his head at me.
“Prez,” I manage to reply despite my nerves. My fingers pluck at the oversized, black t-shirt I’m wearing and run along my purple leggings. If I had known we were going to video chat, I might have tried harder to look more put-together.
“Jester is here too, just so both of you know. I thought it would be good to have extra ears and eyes on this,” Prez lets us know.
My nails dig into my palms. “No offense, but nothing about this call is feeling like good news to me.”
Prez raises his brow, probably somewhat pissed I talked out of line, but I don’t care. Jester can be heard chuckling in the background, though, so I don’t feel guilty.
“Just give it to us straight, Prez,” Finn jumps in, and that riot of nerves inside me calms a little knowing that he’s in my corner.
The man on screen suddenly looks tired. Fierce but tired. He knows another battle is coming. “I had a long conversation with Bianchi. I told him about how we found you, Winnie, about how you weren’t safe with Marco, and that you have longtime ties to the club.” He pauses and twists the church gavel in his hands. “Bianchi was aware of how his son acquired you. He was not aware that you did not want to be there. Despite that, Marco is still his son, and with the war and the coup inside the Familia, he isn’t willing to push back against his son.”
“So that's it?” My body trembles. The screen seems dimmer as panic starts to creep up my chest.
Prez shakes his head. “We aren’t going to let him take you, Win. There are options. Our club has been preparing for this to lead to war if we break the alliance.”
“I can’t, I can’t ask that of you. Of any of you.” A sob catches in my throat, right as solid arms wrap around me.
“What else did he say?” Finn asks, his eyes hard on the screen. I stop breathing, looking from the man at my side to the screen.
Prez’s stare is intent on Finn. “If the club has no legal hold on Winnie, then we would be violating the alliance should we keep her from Marco.”
Finn nods, like that is exactly what he expected. I realize then that this stipulation was something he already foresaw happening. “Tell him she has a legal tie. She’s my old lady.”
The room goes quiet, and so do both men on the screen. My heart drops from my chest to my stomach. My vision blurs, and the ringing in my ears sounds less like white noise and more like Finn’s voice from five years ago.
I don’t have time to coddle you and to make you feel secure just because you don’t have a ring on your finger.
I don’t want to get married, Winnie.
I don’t see myself ever changing my mind, Win. I know I promised you. This kills me, but I just can’t do it.
