“But you said he’s the VP. How does that work if he doesn’t live with the Flyers?”
‘Well, it’s still unofficial.” Her chin lifts, a flash of protectiveness in her eyes. “I don’t want to talk behind his back, but he's a special case. He was in Ark’s unit, and they were supposed to leave together, but Bluff stayed in after Ark was discharged. He was ambushed a few months later and was badly injured. He spent nearly a year in the hospital, and I think he’s still got some issues he’s dealing with.” She flicks me a worried glance. “He didn’t scare you, did he?”
“No,” I reply quietly. “Nothing like that.”
“Good, because I think Ark really cares about him and wants him to come back.” Her gaze bounces around my apartment again, pausing on my packing boxes. “Kinda like you, to be honest. Right now, the club is a box of puzzle pieces, and if you ask our Pres, I’m pretty sure he’d say a couple of key pieces are missing.”
I’m still thinking about Tricks’ revelations when Wings comes home a couple of hours later. The club has a long history of military service, and outside of pack bonds, the members with the strongest ties are often those who served together. Like Patch and my dad, and Samson and Ark. I don’t know if Samson ever knew Bluff, but it’s another potential connection that I can’t ignore. My brother signed up as soon as he turned eighteen, and for a long time I resented him for leaving me with our mom. But a couple of years after I was thrown out of the club, he died on a mission, and all of my anger turned into a deep, bruising hurt.
Alphas can have trauma, too.
I can’t stop my thoughts circling back to Bluff, the club’s reclusive VP. From the little Tricks shared, it’s obvious that those scars I saw aren’t from a barfight or an unlucky tumble off his bike. He was wounded in the line of duty, and it must have been really serious if he spent so long in recovery. But is that the extent of the issues he’s dealing with? I’d seen the haunted look in his eyes and assumed it was because he thought I was trouble he wanted no part of. But what if he saw me,wantedme, but knew that there were too many barriers between us? Too many wounds that still hadn’t healed?
“Hey, butterfly,” Wings says softly as he drops his cut on the back of a chair and walks slowly over to where I’m curled up on the couch. I have Samson’s jacket draped over my lap like a blanket, and he runs a hand through his hair as he studies me. “Trixie was here, I take it.”
“Tricks,” I correct him, since she was so fiercely proud of her road name. “And yes, she came by. It was really great to see her.”
His gaze flicks down to my brother’s jacket. “But it stirred up old ghosts?”
I nod, rubbing the worn collar between my fingers. “I was thinking about how Samson wanted to be cremated instead of being buried next to mom. Do you think he thought our family was so broken, he didn’t want any part of it, even at the end?”
“No, babe. I think he just had a soldier’s view of death.” He shrugs at my curious look. “There’s a kind of freedom in just floating off into the ether. No mess. Just stardust and memories.”
I pull my hands out from under the jacket and reach for him. He settles next to me, lifting me into his lap and threading his fingers through my hair. As he wraps his arms tightly around me, I breathe in his dark chocolate scent. “I’m sorry I pushed you away, Wings.”
“Yeah, well I’m sorry I wasn’t straight about how we met. That was shitty.”
“I shut you down every time you tried to talk about the club.” I sigh and pull back to cup his face. There are dark smudges under his eyes and tight lines around his mouth, and I want to smooth both away. “It can’t have been easy, balancing all our rules.”
He tips my chin up, feathering a kiss over my lips. “You’re both worth it.”
“Good, because I’m thinking about trying again.” I take a deep breath, leaning into his palm. “Not just with you, but with the Flyers.”
He jolts under me, his eyes sparkling with hope. “For real?”
“I loved seeing Tricks today. It brought back some of the good memories I haven’t thought about in a long time.” He nuzzles my hair and I tip my head back, exposing my neck to his hungry lips. “Glory, too. I didnotexpect Lyla, though.”
His chuckle is low and warm against my throat. “I think they were kind of shocked, too, but Lyla’s good for them.”
“They seemed really happy.”
He makes a humming sound, then pauses to look deep into my eyes. “The club isn't perfect, but it’s getting better. Can you trust me on that?”
“I believe you.” Because one thing I know for certain is that Wings wouldn’t deliberately put me in harm’s way. “Areyouworried about going back, though?” I rub a circle on his chest, over the pair of butterflies under his tee. “Tricks called it your ‘big designation reveal’.”
I can’t help snickering as he rolls his eyes. “It will probably be a huge pain in my ass, but I don’t care. Not if I’m with you.”
There’s a noise at the door, and when I look over my shoulder, Pitt is stepping into the room, his pheromones wafting over us in a careful greeting. “Damn, you look cozy.”
“I’m apologizing,” I tell him, then take a deep breath. “And we’re talking about our reception when we go back to the club.”
He leans against the counter, his arms folded casually, but I can see the tension in his body. “You’re both going back?”
“I don’t know for how long,” I tell him before he gets his hopes up, “but there are a few things I need to figure out.”
Like what kind of new start Ark and I can have, if any, and what this connection is between me and his unofficial VP.
Pitt nods his head, his smile growing until he’s beaming at us. “Well, that’s fucking fantastic. We should celebrate.”
