“You do realise what a breakthrough that was, right? I don’t think you were admitting that to yourself, but you just did it.You chose the wrong man. Hell, it’s so easy to do, but you were feeling things for Henley, and you ran from those-”
“Ran from? I didn’t run. I chose someone who actually wanted me. That was me making what I thought was the right decision.”
“And you still have these feelings for Henley?”
I returned to chewing my thumbnail. “I don’t know. Right now my feelings are so wrapped up in pain and bad memories, and I just don’t know.”
She nodded, like I’d given a right answer again.
“Exactly, but maybe it wasn’t unrequited… maybe it still isn’t.”
I clenched my fist around my thumb, determined to stop worrying at it.
“Don’t say that, because if that’s true, then I went through all of this for nothing.”
Chapter Ten
The glamping sets atthe clubhouse were being constructed, and guys were moving into them, although they looked a bit bemused by the type of lodgings being provided. Stag was one of them, and he called it a pussy camp, but seemed to be admiring it when he thought nobody was looking. I mean, sure, glamping isn’t your usual tent and bedroll situation, but surely they appreciated the fact that they weren’t sleeping on floors. These ones had modified campbeds, since they were a bridge between camping and glamping, but it was better than bunking at family or friends’ houses.
“How long has that been going on?” I heard Micro ask someone on his phone as he stepped up beside me to oversee things.
I watched my team set up the last set, and half listened to Micro. I ascertained that he was talking to Reacher, but whatever it was about was beyond me. Something bad was my guess.
“Has he spoken to Lissa about it?... PTSD? Fucking hell. No matter what I do it’ll never be enough to make up for everything.” I side-eyed him, catching the slump in his shoulders, and the clench of his free fist. Definitely something bad.
“He’s what? NO. Fucking hell, he’s not been patched in that long. There has to be a solution.” He wandered away again, still arguing over whatever it was with Reacher, but it wasn’t my business, so I helped unpack the last of the ‘furnishings’ and asked the driver to wait while we checked the last one was complete.
Micro returned, no longer on his phone, but that stress was still in every aspect of him, from his grim features, to the tension in his posture.
“Trouble?” I asked finally, because it was weird not to address it, since he knew I’d heard part of the conversation.
He groaned, shoving his clenched fists into his pockets.
“Yeah. Isn’t there always?”
“I’m sure it’s fixable. It’s family, right?”
He turned to stare at me face-on, and was I about to get a faceful of crap for prying? I probably deserved it for eavesdropping, and poking my oar in.
“Yeah. You know what? You’re right. Fuck me. You’re right.” He dug his phone back out and dialled someone as he walked away, and okay, just don’t tell me. Whatever.
I turned back to watch as Stag stepped back out of his new accommodation, instantly forcing the smile from his face.
“All good?”
He shrugged. “It’s alright. I mean, it’s good of you to help out… Prospect.”
Yeah, that’s getting old fast. Still, I couldn’t help but be amused by how he tried to hide his pleasure in moving in. The temporary housing was still tents, but top of the range ones, withlarge living spaces, and a bunch of home comforts. He wasn’t sleeping on the ground, or in a fucking cardboard box, right?
“You’re welcome.”
I turned to see the driver off, and returned to the gate. My fucking home for weeks now. And god knows how many more of them.
As the hours passed, I welcomed several brothers back through the gates, as they transported some of their belongings and moved into the setups I’d provided. They were all off to the far side, well away from the building works, all carefully cordoned off and safe. For a bunch of ragtag biker guys, the safety rules were all being strictly followed, which was a relief because I didn’t think anyone here was medically trained. That was probably something that needed to be rectified, but Micro clearly had enough on his shoulders right now.
I sent a text off to Glory to see how things were back at home. I liked having her at home. In my home. It could be our home, and I know that was me projecting my wants here, but it’d be amazing. I could picture her cooking with me, and us sitting together to eat, to watch movies, kissing, going to bed together-
“Daydreaming on the job, prospect?”
