“If you’re trying to keep me from seeing Wrath fuck one of the girls, I hate to break it to you, baby, I’ve seen it all. That man has no shame, and his exhibitionist streak runs strong.”
“I want to implement a new rule, Sin, no more fucking out in the open. Or at least, be more discreet about it,” he jokes, and I have the strong urge to give him shit that he’s so jealous over the size of his patch brother’s dick all of a sudden.
“Take it up with Chaos, but he’s not going to start policing us. Just don’t look at his dick if you don’t like it. Or go remind Morgan who she belongs to. That’s what I’d do.”
“Lame. You gonna drink that, buddy, or just sit there and hold it all night?” Rolo asks, pointing to the beer currently sweating in my hand.
“All yours. I’m calling it. I’ve got a long-ass drive tomorrow.”
“When will you be back?”
“Saturday morning is the plan. Down and back again.”
“We should have named you Saint instead of Sin,” he jests.
“Yeah, yeah. Happy birthday, brother.”
I weave my way through the crowd, saying goodnight to a few people, and then I finally escape to the back of the clubhouse. It’s a large barndominium-style building that we’ve transformed to hold a dozen or so bedrooms, a large kitchen, a dining room that looks more like a diner with the amount of tables and chairs, and our common area. My bedroom is only one of two on the bottom floor, which I don’t mind.At least I didn’t until Chaos brought home Saige. His room is directly above mine, and the floor is unfortunately thin.
I unlock my bedroom door, opening it up to the little happy noises of my pet bunny. My mood instantly calms, the banging in my head dropping a few decibels, and the pain no longer feels like someone is trying to carve out my eyes.
I close the door behind me, drowning out the sound of the music that filters through the hallways. Shrugging my leather coat off, I hang it respectfully on the hook that’s on the back of my door. My boots come next, feeling some of the weight lift. I love my brothers, I love this life, but I’m ready for something that’s my own, something that allows me to hang on to the human side of me.
I pick up Mr. Bun-Buns, snuggling him into the fabric of my T-shirt at my chest. “Hey, little man, how’re you doing? Daddy’s head hurts like a bitch, and we’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”
I love being on the road, so a little solo road trip is exactly what I need to clear my head of this shit I’ve been feeling lately. I’m sure it’s just a combination of the last year being so fucked with one thing after another. I haven’t had a moment to breathe. For ten years, we had peace; there were no wars to be fought, no one encroaching on our territory, and very little crime in Amberwood overall. We’d been able to focus on our businesses and our club.
The last year plus, it’s been constant doom and gloom. I’ve been picking up slack left and right from Chaos since Saige came barreling into his life, managing some of our businesses, and dealing with all the shit that comes up throughout the day. I’m tired. Sue me for wanting something just for myself.
Chapter Four
BRISTOL
Rays of sunlight creep through my windows, dancing yellow and orange across my bedroom. I wake up alone right before my alarm is due to go off, per usual, my inner clock keeping me on a routine, even though it’s Saturday. At least today is different, and I’ve been looking forward to it all week.
A sister shelter two towns over from us had a mom and her puppies brought up from Oregon for relocation since their shelters are overrun, and they called in some help to get them all checked out. I was happy to donate my time. The Amberwood animal shelter is in a small town that relies on veterinarians to come in from other shelters and clinics to help out when they need it. It’s so incredibly difficult to secure steady monetary donations for shelters, especially ones in small towns. Bloomfield Animal Haven was in a similar situation, and if it hadn’t been for the donations we’ve been given, there’s no way we would have been able to hire the staff we have or supply the care we do.
I know how lucky we are, and it’s not something I take for granted. So, donating my time to shelters that are less fortunate than ours is a job I’m more than happy to do. If I didn’t need the income, I would work for free and put that money right back into helping these animals. As is, what I do take is meager at best. Blake and I keep our finances separate, and he’s very gracious with footing the bill for most things. Including the overly lavish house he purchased.
Slipping out of the empty bed, I move through my morning routine, turning on my playlist while I get ready for the day. I take my time showering, shaving my legs because it makes me feel good, and letting the hot water warm up my body. I love hot showers and could stand underneath the spray as the water beats down on me for hours if I had the time. It’s the one place where you’re completely uninterrupted. No phones to pull you in another direction, no conversations to be had, no expectations. Just you, the hot water, and relaxation.
Knowing I want to stop by a bakery I haven’t visited in a while on my way into the shelter, I reluctantly leave the refuge of the shower and get out, drying off and slipping into a pair of matching navy-blue scrubs.
I study myself in the mirror, running my fingers gently over my cheeks as I glide moisturizer on. My hair falls in a perfectly straight sheet, smooth and fine, like it was ironed flat by nature itself. It doesn’t hold a single curl or wave; no matter how long I battle with a curling wand, it just slides back into its pin-straight form, the stubborn wench. It parts neatly down the middle, running long past my shoulders and to my chest.
My round, apple-shaped face makes me look younger than my nearly thirty years, with high cheekbones, plush lips, and a smaller chin. Together, my straight hair and the roundness ofmy face create this contrast that I’ve come to love about myself. Sleek and simple meets soft and open. It’s me through and through. I love my physical attributes, and I’ve always felt confident in my own skin.
After getting ready, I grab the keys to my car and head out. With no idea where Blake is, or if he even came home last night, there’s no one to say goodbye to as I start my day. The feeling is a little somber, but it’s one I’ve become used to. He works long after I’ve gone to sleep and is out the door before I wake up to start my day.
The drive to Amberwood takes roughly thirty minutes because of all the streetlights in Bloomfield and the next town over. Then it’s nothing but backroads all the way to Amberwood. It’s a quaint little town hidden closer to the Pacific coast, surrounded by mountains and massive trees. Today I am being graced with clear, beautiful skies. Like the world itself is happy with where I’m heading, and it came out to show off.
The Amberwood animal shelter has a small location downtown, right next to the cutest bakery that has the most mouthwatering banana muffins I’ve ever had in my life. The scent of warm bread and caramelized sugar fills my senses before I even reach the door, slightly weathered from seasons of sunshine and snow. A simple painted golden sun rising over a loaf of bread, with the wordsDaily Rise Bakeryetched in looping script, greets me as I reach for the cool gold handle of the door, my mouth already watering in anticipation.
Inside, the floors are a honey hardwood that creaks ever so softly with every step. A long glass display case stretches across the far wall, glowing under the morning light that pours through the large windows. Trays of butter croissants, scones flecked with rosemary, cinnamon rolls oozing withmelted icing, and there, waiting for me like a beacon shining out at sea, what I came here for—large, fluffy, mouthwatering banana muffins. No nuts. No chocolate. Just bananas and whatever other crack they put in it to make them so addictive.
“Good morning! Can I get you anything?” a sweet elderly woman greets me as I look up from the display case. I’m sure I look like a fool, my smile bright and excited like a child in a candy store. I don’t know why I don’t just drive to Amberwood when I get a craving for these, but it’s a rarity that I have time.
“Good morning. I would love a Morning Fog Latte and a banana muffin, to go, please.”
