With a sigh of resignation that my hair will do whatever the fuck it wants, I grab my leather jacket and head out. I left the vest at home. I might still have the logo of the club on me, but my rockers were never changed. I need to do that. I’m not the president. I’m not even an officer anymore. I’m… hell, I don’t know what I am. I ain’t a pissant, that’s for damn sure. I might not have all the memories, but being an officer again seems like a downgrade.
I need to speak with Casper and see what he wants to do. He calls the shots now. I have a preference, but if he asks me to step into a role, I’ll take it. He never let me down,and I won’t do it for him. Elder or adviser seems the logical move, but with everything going on with Ruby and shit, the other day didn’t seem like the time to ask about me and mine.
I’ll wait till I hear she’s back. Or at least till we get word on what’s going on with her.
The drive to Diana’s doesn’t take long; it’s a small town. I’m not surprised to see her nana sitting out front to greet me.
But the second I stop and Diana runs out? Not cool.
“Stop,” I bark at the same time as her nana.
Diana pauses mid-step off the porch, teetering on her back foot as the other hangs in midair.
“What?” She looks around, then pats her hair. She even goes as far as looking down at her loose, flowing below-the-knee dress. All while standing precariously on one foot.
I get off my bike quickly and double-time it up to her, pushing her back a step till both her feet are on solid ground.
“You never run out the second you hear someone show up.”
She nods and looks down. “Right. Better to look first to make sure it is who I think before I do it. Got it.”
I smirk as her nana snorts.
“Sure, that’s smart too. But when you go out on a date”—I lift my finger and push her chin up a little—“which this is, you wait for the man to come and get you.”
“Oh.” Her lips part, and I chance a glance at them to see how pink and slick they are, probably from lip gloss orsomething. I desperately want to know if they have a flavor to them.
“And the guy should bring flowers,” her nana chimes in, pulling Diana’s eyes away from me as she scowls at her.
“Nana.”
The old woman merely shrugs. She’s not wrong, and I kind of hate that, but riding with flowers on a bike ain’t exactly easy.
“Ready?” I bring the attention back to me, and the smile Diana gives me dulls any remnants of “wrong” feelings I’ve had since leaving the house.
I shouldn’t feel guilty about doing this. Should I? Nothing about this feels wrong. But part of me is keeping this from the club. They claim I was married. That I didn’t look at another woman since I laid eyes on her. That was what made Katrina “Special K,” I’m told. After she died, I still held out. Never dipped into the vamps at the club, or anyone else for that matter.
But that was before. The old me. The one who had the memories of her and our life together.
The man in front of Diana might not even be that same man. I share the name and home, even the same friends, but I feel different. Mostly because I don’t feel like mourning someone I don’t know, and I’m finding joy in a new woman who makes me feel… what? I’m not sure how to define it yet, but feeling anything is what I want. Even if it’s wrong.
And with her.
She nods, and I take her hand without a second thought and pull her toward my bike.
“Curfew is ten, young man,” her nana manages between laughs, and I hold in my own as I hear Diana groan.
“Sorry about her,” she mutters as we stop at my bike. I grab my spare helmet and secure it over her head before doing up my own.
I shrug it off. “She cares.”
“Pretty sure she’s just trying to embarrass me and scare you off.”
I get on my bike and then hold her hand as she flips a leg over and sits behind me.
“You ever ridden before?” I ask before I start the engine.
I should probably tell her to change—dresses ain’t the best for being on the back of a bike—but she looks too damn beautiful for me to say such a thing. Plus, her dress is one that flows, not tight to where she wouldn’t be able to lift a leg over. She’ll have to gather the ends while we ride, but I ain’t worried about any parts of her showing to the world. Not when I’ve got her with me.
