It’s good that she feels comfortable enough to say what she thinks here, but I think we need to have a chat about a few things when I get back…
Shit… When I get back… from searching for my daughter.
My heart sinks as dread fills me again.
Is it because maybe I don’t really believe she’s alive? Or I don’t want to get my hopes up just in case?
I ache to hold my little girl. I really do… so why am I so terrified?
It has to be my subconscious trying to protect me, telling me not to get my hopes up, because my heart… it won’t survive being crushed again. There’d be no coming back from that a second time.
Doreen slowly shuffles her way over to the couch before sitting next to Tahli and showing her a basket of knitting needles and balls of knitting yarn. I step away, and Doreen smiles warmly up at me, like she’s silently telling me it’s okay, she’ll look after Tahli for me while I’m gone.
These people… they are my saviours. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay them.
“Uhhh, Abs. Here’s that paracetamol you wanted for your headache.” Alana grins as she approaches me with a glass of water and something tucked in her palm.
Knowing exactly what she has, I move away from my little sister and Ringo’s mum and take the glass and the small pill from her.
“Thank you,” I mutter quietly before tossing the pill into my mouth and chugging back some water.
Ringo and I haven’t exactly been careful when we have sex, and the last thing I need is to fall pregnant again. Maybe when I see the doctor today, I can arrange for something more routine rather than taking the emergency contraceptive that Alana seems to have a stash of.
I’ve considered asking her why, but I’ve learned that with Alana, sometimes you’re best not knowing.
When I glance up, Ringo catches my eye, nodding his head towards the front door, so I follow him, stepping outside, where he weaves his fingers with mine.
It’s such a simple act, yet means so much, and I focus on the way his thumb strokes over the back of my hand as he leads me off the porch, walking us over to the group of men gathered.
“Abbey,” Smitty sings, holding his arms out. “So good to see you.”
My brows lift.
“What are you doing here?” I don’t mean for my words to sound so snappy, but unfortunately that’s how they come out.
“Ringo told me about Bobbi.” He grips my shoulders and leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. “I’m here to help.”
What’s happening?
“Oh…” I glance up at Ringo to see he doesn’t look fazed by Smitty’s weirdly friendly mood. “I didn’t think the President would put himself in danger.”
Smitty chuckles, releasing my shoulders. “If I’m not willing to die for my men, then why would they follow me?”
“So you’d die for Ringo?”
Shit… why does my tone sound so judgemental?
It’s this man. He rubs me the wrong way, and I know he cares about his men and the club, but his tactics leave a lot to be desired. One minute we can be getting along, and the next minute he’s doing something rash, shocking everyone around him.
I just feel so on edge around him.
“Yes, of course. Ringo has been a loyal member of the Southern Sadists for a long time, even if his more recent actions have been questionable.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ringo grumbles as I get my hackles up and take a step closer to his President.
Too close.
Ringo’s arm slips between me and Smitty, and he tugs me back a few steps. “Angel. Smitty is here to help.”
