And stops.
I’m already backing away, biting down on a grin, because I know exactly when it hits him.
The pause.
The processing.
Theoh, fuck—
He turns around so fast it’s almost violent, eyes snapping to me across the room.
I’m already smirking.
Hound doesn’t even let him recover and just slaps a heavy hand against his back. “C’mon, Prez,” he mutters, steering him forward.
Theo doesn’t. Not immediately. He just stands there for a second longer, looking like his entire brain short-circuited. “Did you just—?” he starts, chest heaving.
“What?” Hound frowns, already dragging him toward the center of the room. “Walk, brother.”
Theo lets himself be hauled forward, still glancing back at me like he’s not entirely convinced that just happened.
When our eyes meet again, I mouth it this time. Even signing.
I—hand on my chest. Love—both my hands forming a heart. You—pointing right at him.
He stumbles. Actually fucking stumbles. I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing as the President of the club gets physically escorted into giving his speech—looking completely wrecked over three little words.
Theo clears his throat.
Once.
Twice.
Three times—like that’s somehow going to fix him enough to get his speech rolling.
“Alright,” he starts, voice a little rougher than usual. “We’re here to—”
He stops. His eyes find me. And just stay there.
My lips quiver with effort, and I’m already losing the battle not to laugh.
He blinks. Shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to reset. “Spike,” he tries again, gesturing vaguely in the right direction. “You’ve—uh…”
Another pause. Another look at me.
God, he looks wrecked. Completely gone.
My fault.
I bite the inside of my cheek, grinning like an idiot as he drags a hand down his face.
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, coughing lightly like that’s going to buy him time. “You’ve been with the club for—fuck—years now and—”
He exhales sharply and looks at me again.
I raise my brows, completely unhelpful.
He huffs, pacing once, then turning back. “Right. So. Road Captain,” he says, nodding like he’s convincing himself this is a coherent sentence. “You’ll be—handling runs and—routes and—”
