“Childproofing?” I ask, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder whether that’s something Garrett and I should consider as we fix up our home. Mainly for my family’s visits, or maybe even our own future.
Niro glances around. “We’re turning this outbuilding into an onsite day care. Costs a small fortune to get babies looked after by strangers we don’t know. Figured there’s a tiny-people explosion around here, so having our own and paying a couple of people we know to run it keeps costs down.”
“And we know the kids are safe, here in the compound,” Halo says. “Anyway, keep us looped in and let us know how it goes.”
We say our goodbyes and then hang up.
Garrett exhales like he’s been holding air in his chest for a year.
I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh again. “What’s going on?” I ask quietly.
He stares at the closed laptop screen for a long moment before answering. “Just got some shit on my mind I’m working through.”
“Garrett.”
His head snaps to mine. “It’s Shade. We’re still in the clubhouse.”
I shake my head. “I don’t give a fuck where we are. Is the thing on your mind you and me?”
I can see the confusion etched in his features. “It’s a me thing.”
“That’s still not good enough. You’re doing that thing again. Where you pull back on me. On us.”
His eyes flick up for a heartbeat, and there’s worry in them. Something heavy and unspoken between us. But before I can push again, the door creaks open, and I snatch my hand back off Garrett’s thigh.
“Needed to get my keys,” Grudge says.
“King had his baby,” I say. “A little girl. Imogen Juno Hills.”
Grudge finds what he’s looking for, but there’s anger in the lines of his face. “Everyone healthy?”
“So Halo said. She’s a preemie baby but doing great. Are you okay, Prez?”
“Jinx didn’t show for his gate shift. Again. And the little shit isn’t picking up his phone. I’m two seconds from dragging his ass through a patch review. Catfish has stepped in, but a fucking senior member shouldn’t be on the fucking gate.”
Garrett stands suddenly. “Give us the address, we’ll go have a word.”
Which I guess means the end of our conversation.
For now.
13
SHADE
As we ride to Jinx’s house, my head’s a fucking mess. A turbulent storm of thoughts.
I can’t stop thinking about the conversation with Grizz and Birdie days earlier.
I look over at Kai. He’s younger than me. And if the road doesn’t get us, I’m likely to go first. But I can’t imagine a world that doesn’t have him in it, and never want to face what Grizz is facing.
We talked for a few more minutes before we left, and we found out the cancer is stage four. And even with some limited health insurance, the copayments and non-covered expenses have ruined them.
They’re the kind of bills that would take a lot to fix. And a part of me wonders if Wren would ever be open to hacking all those health insurance and big pharmaceutical companies to steal money for the club to use to cover this kind of bullshit.
My teeth grind at the injustice of it all. Would Grizz be facing the loss of his partner if the insurance company hadn’t said no to so many treatments and options?
What good is paying so much to cover your health if, in the end, they won’t cover your health?
