Chapter Seventeen
DREW
Ipulled down the peak of my black baseball cap, scrunching my eyes shut before I pushed the cap back up again. This headache of mine had been lingering for days as the responsibilities of life began to mount.
Weddings. Babies. Enemies. Brotherhoods.
I was twenty-nine years old—feeling like a hundred.
With my free hand, I spun the bottle of beer around on top of the table, staring at it as I waited for the other men to arrive. Life had gotten so hectic for us all around here, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d sat at the table this way like we were still a full functioning club—one that I was the head of, with the gavel resting next to me, waiting to be brought down once a decision had been made.
I’d made the choice to purposely leave Deeks out of this meeting, sending him on errands with Ayda while she got things in place for the wedding. The sooner she became my wife, the better.
The door creaked open, and Kenny walked through wearing a sad smile of acknowledgment, soon followed by Slater, Jedd, Moose, and a few other guys who each had their smokes hanging from the corners of their mouths. I squinted againstthe cloud of gray air they brought in with them, instantly thinking of Harry.
Get it together, son.
Right, Harry.
Clearing my throat, I messed with the peak of my cap again and readjusted the cut on my shoulders. Jedd and Slater flanked me on either side and once all the men were in place, I looked up at them individually and scowled.
“Someone’s missing,” I told them.
“Deeks is out with Ayda,” Kenny reminded me, but I shook my head slowly and glanced back at the closed door that led to the bar.
“I’m not talking about Deeks. We need Eric in here.”
Whoever coughed roughly failed to hide their surprise, but I didn’t flinch. I just waited for someone to get out of their fucking chair and go to get him.
Slater moved quickly, the screech of his chair against the hard floor sounding like a sharp knife against my already aching head.
“Bold move,” Jedd muttered beside me.
All I could do was offer him a weak half smile and a raise of my brows.
“Makes quite the statement,” he added.
“What do you want me to do? Leave him out of this shit when he’s the one leading the way?”
“Not even a little bit.” Jedd leaned back in his chair with satisfaction, his eyes trained on the door he was waiting for Slater and Eric to walk back through.
When they did, Slater led the way, and Eric followed closely behind him. His hand rested on the edge of the open door, and his eyes found mine immediately. There were no looks, no subtle gestures, or any words spoken. I gave him to the count of ten to see the certainty in my face and sit the fuck down, and luckily he did just that, taking the empty seat that was onceHarry’s.
The significance of it didn’t go unnoticed.
Nobody had sat in that chair since Harry’s cancer-riddled ass had ruled us all with a quiet manipulation we hadn’t seen at the time. Now there was another scheming bastard keeping that seat warm, and I had no doubts in my mind that Eric had the same good intentions for the club that Harry had had while alive.
Looking around the table, all eyes were on me, and for the first time in a very long time, nerves attacked me. The pressure tingled my spine. Being president didn’t feel as natural as it once had, and I had no idea why that was or what that meant for my future.
“First things first: this is long overdue, but I feel I owe each and every one of you here an apology,” I announced.
Slater’s scowl was firm, and his shoulders became set, while Jedd had to press his lips together to stop himself from scolding me—that much was clear.
“Since being released from Huntsville, a lot has changed in my life,” I admitted, looking down at my clamped hands, my fingers twisting together. “When I left you all to deal with the club, and the aftermath of Pete’s death, I was a selfish bastard who couldn’t see the light even in the daytime. All I saw was darkness. Everything here was blurred,” I waved a weak hand over my forehead, frowning as I did, “drowned out by the screaming rage and venom in my head. I never thought about any of you. I never thought about this club that had raised me from a child and taught me things I could never dream of being taught. I only saw the bad in everything. I saw the loss of my brother as a personal attack, and I was the only one injured from it. I didn’t care who in here was hurting. I didn’t care about your pain. The only thing I had on my mind was survival, and the thoughts about the desperate need I felt to escape and punish myself for believing we were indestructible. It was self-flagellation because Pete was my religion, and I’d obviously done so many fucked up things in my life that his death was my penance—something I brought on myself without realizing it. It had to be. The pain I felt, it was my fault.”
Glancing up, I met each of their gazes as I looked around the table.
“As if that wasn’t selfish enough, I then had the nerve to waltz out of prison and fall in love with a girl.”
