I debate what to do for all of three minutes before I hop on my bike, adjust my dick, and take off. By the time I roll past the gates, I’m no longer hard, but at least the happy feeling is still there. For one part of my life at least.
I need to fix the other part.
I see Kooper’s truck, so I know at least one person is here who I need to make amends with.
“You here to punch me again?” the man of the hour asks as he steps out from around the clubhouse. No doubt someone monitoring the cameras told him I was pulling in.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Ruby. She with you?”
He looks me over, then throws his head back. “Backside of the property.”
“What’s she doing there?”
He looks away with a shake of his head. “Just head down the path. You can’t miss it.”
“Miss what?”
He just walks back the way he came with more shakes of his head. Probably pissed that I don’t remember what’s back there.
Awesome. More people mad at something I can’t control.
I stuff my hands into my pockets and kick at the stones as I walk in the direction he told me to go. It doesn’t take me long to find her, sitting on a swing that seems to have been there for years, with vines wrapping around it but still looking brand-new. The boys must be keeping it up. But the question remains: Is it for her or her mother?
“This was Mom’s spot,” she says without me asking. “You built it for her when she learned she had cancer. It was her way to stay close to you and the club but also give herself some space to breathe when needed.”
I take a few more steps till I can lean against the frame. Ruby’s sitting on the other side, but with one leg propped up to take over both sides, the other dangling to rock her. She makes no move to give me space to sit, and I don’t know if I would even if she did.
“I’m sorry.” It might not be enough, but it’s all I have.
“For what?” Her voice is flat as she holds my stare. She’s right to ask. There’s so much more between us that I should say sorry for than just what happened three days ago at the barbecue.
“For a lot of things, but not everything.” I speak slowly. Not because I think she’s dumb or anything, but to make sure I say what I want. This is the first time we’ve had a moment to talk with just the two of us. Nothing will get solved today. I know that. But hopefully I can mend shit enough to put us on some ground that makes it better for both of us.
“I ever tell you why I quit the Army?”
She shakes her head, but the scowl on her face morphs into confusion. Better than nothing.
“I signed up because my dad wanted me to become a man. In his eyes, it was the only way. So I did what he wanted, and when the time came to re-up, I didn’t. Then my mom pushed me to go to law school. For her, she saw it as the only way to be successful.”
“Then you met Mom and quit that too.” She rolls her eyes and breaks eye contact with me as if she knows the rest.
I shake my head. “No.”
She looks back at me.
“I might have memory lapses and shit missing, but I remember typing up the resignation letter long before I headed to that bar where I met your mom. The club sought me out before I went to them. They knew me because my dad served with the former president when they were in the Army. But unlike my family, the Hounds didn’t tell me whatto do or who to become. They gave me options, and then they waited till I was ready.”
“What’s your point?”
“Point is this: Since I woke up, every damn person in this place is telling me who I should be. What I should do. How to act.” I rub a hand over my face. “Not one is giving me the chance I first had. What drew me to this place is gone. I get that I was a different person, someone else back then. And you can’t see it, or maybe don’t want to, but I’ve changed. I know it ain’t easy to accept, especially since you’re grown and I acted one way your entire life, but I can’t do a damn thing about being what I was. I’ve tried.”
I continue before she can say I haven’t. “I went back home, picked up the shit people said I used to do. Came to the club like normal and shot the shit, but it’s all changed.Youall changed, but somehow you expect me to not have. Feels like double standards if you ask me.”
She looks away, and I give her a moment, but I’m not done. I move her foot and she sets it down, giving me space to sit beside her.
