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One

Murphy

Nothing short of a bullet to the head will stop me from finally making Heidi my wife.

Maybe not the best way to put it, considering everything the club’s gone through lately.

Coming fully awake, I stretch out in bed, seeking Heidi’s soft, warm body.

But all my seeking fingers find are cool sheets.

Turning, I catch a glimpse of a neon green Post-It Note. Her handwriting automatically makes me smile before I even read the words.

She won’t see it until she has a break, but I grab my phone, anyway, and send my own message.

Study hard. Kick ass. Love you.

Feels weird to be “home” at Rock and Hope’s again. Until recently, I’d been staying at a rental house downstate to help Z run Sway’s downstate charter while Sway recovered from a gunshot to his thick skull.

Even weirder, Z might not return. I can’t imagine our charter without him as our Vice President. I held myself back from getting too sappy while I was down there, but I’m going to miss his prankster ass.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, I make my way out to the kitchen. The rich scent of coffee lingers in the air, and I definitely need some of that to shake myself awake.

Teller and Rock are at the kitchen table. Not unusual to see Teller here these days. His visits increased after Grace was born. Usually Charlotte tags along. Privately, Heidi and I joke that her brother’s probably trying to entice Charlotte into making some babies sooner rather than later.

Given the ominous looks on Rock and Teller’s faces this morning, babies are the last thing on Teller’s mind.

Teller notices my presence first. “Nice of you to join the productive people.”

I flip him off on my way to the coffee maker. “Produce this.”

“He got in late,” Rock says, defending my wake-up time. The ten-year old in me has the urge to stick my tongue out at Teller. I pour a steaming cup of coffee and take a quick sip instead.

“Wrath planning to work you hard now that you’re upstate full-time again?” Teller asks.

“You know it.” Now that I’m partially caffeinated, my coffee mug and I take a seat across from Rock and Teller. “Business is picking up.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rock says. “Although I never doubted that it would.”

My gaze ping-pongs between the two of them. Rock made it clear we’d be having church early this morning; yet, Teller doesn’t have his usual stack of papers with him for the club’s investments.

“We are still having church this morning?” I ask. Otherwise, I would’ve stayed in bed.

“We have a lot of things to discuss,” Rock says, which I guess answers my question.

Before I can ask any follow-ups to Rock’s non-answer, the back door whooshes open, and even though it can only be one person, I glance up.

“How are you living two hours away and still sneaking in my back door every morning?” Rock’s joke comes out more strained than humorous this morning.

Z grins at him. “Awesome, isn’t it?”

“That’s one word for it,” Rock mutters.

Teller barely cracks a smile. Someone’s crabby today.

“What’re you doing here so early?” I lift my chin at Z.

Soft footsteps pad down the stairs, drawing our attention to Hope. “Oh my. Full house this morning.” She breezes over to us, carrying Grace in her arms.

“Little miss slept well last night,” I say over my coffee cup. “Didn’t hear a peep out of her.”

“She did,” Hope agrees, patting my back as she walks by. I reach out and tickle Grace’s toes, getting a sweet baby giggle in return.

“How are you prettier every time I see you?” Z holds his arms open wide, calling Hope over for a hug.

“Are you talking to me or Grace?” she asks.

“Both.”

“Smooth.” Teller chuckles.

Ignoring him, Z hugs Hope and takes Grace for a few minutes.

“Did Lilly come with you?” Hope asks Z.

“She ran up to see her brother, but she’ll be back.”

Hope leans over to kiss Rock’s cheek and gives Teller an affectionate shoulder squeeze, before heading to the refrigerator. “Did anyone eat yet?”

“No time, baby doll,” Rock answers for all of us.

I scowl at my cup of black coffee. Apparently, Wrath’s intermittent fasting protocols are spreading. Like a disease.

“Murphy, Heidi left an omelet in the fridge for you.” Hope holds up a glass container and waves it in the air. “Do you want me to heat it up?”

“Nope, I got it.” At least someone doesn’t want me to starve. I hurry over and grab the container from Hope. “Thanks.”

I pop off the cover and grin. Bacon, broccoli, and cheese. Damn, I love my girl.

One hurry-the-fuck-up face from Rock, and I decide to eat my breakfast cold. Still delicious.

I rush back to our bedroom, get my ass dressed then meet Z and Teller outside.

Z loops a heavy arm around each of our necks and yanks us close. “Miss you, fuckers.” He slaps sloppy kisses on both our cheeks before setting us free.

Teller wipes the back of his hand over his cheek. “We just spent like three weeks on the road together.” He starts walking toward the clubhouse, and I follow.

Z’s not one to be ignored or dismissed. He muscles in between us. “I got so used to your grumpy mug every day. Now my life seems so empty without it.” He slaps Teller’s cheeks with an affectionate amount of force.

I clamp my hand on Z’s shoulder and pull him away before Teller punches him. “It’s not the same without you here, bro.” They’re not empty words. Z’s been our VP since before I patched into the club. Our whole dynamic feels off without him. This isn’t the same as him being off on a run.

This is life-altering.

We haven’t even tossed around names to fill the position yet. Love all my brothers. Trust them, too. But no one can replace Z.

No one can deny that Z turned our downstate charter around. While the loss sucks personally, Z’s presence down there is good for the whole club. Something I try to keep reminding myself.

The three of us clomp up the front steps to the clubhouse together, but inside the door, Z freezes.

My gaze searches the main room, finally landing on Wrath’s maniacal grin. “Come here, brother.” He crooks a finger at Z.

“Don’t touch me, fucker,” Z growls.

Well, that’s as good as saying, “Please come give me a bone-crushing hug,” which is exactly what Wrath does. After chasing Z around the living room for a few seconds.

“One positive about moving downstate—I’ll need to see a chiropractor less often,” Z wheezes as Wrath sets him down.

“Stop being a pussy.” Wrath slaps Z on the back, knocking him forward a few inches. “You’re one of the few people in this world I can tolerate.”

Z adjusts his cut and slaps Wrath’s shoulder. “Life isn’t the same without you trying to rearrange my insides every day, you fucking beast.”

Rock stomps into the clubhouse behind us and surveys the room. “Where’s Dex?”

Wrath turns. “Yo, Dex! Move your ass!” he bellows down the hallway.

Teller rubs the side of his head. “Jesus Christ, I think they heard you down in Empire.”

Sparky’s over in the corner getting wet-nosed kisses from Z’s dogs. I clap my hands, and they trot over to me for some attention.

Fifteen minutes and lots more grumbling later, we’re finally all seated around the table.

Rock’s not in a let’s-sit-around-and-bullshit mood. He slams down the gavel to call the meeting to order, instead of telling us to shut the fuck up like he normally does.

“First order of business.” He pauses and casts a long look Z’s way. “Official word has come down from Priest. Z stays as president downstate.”

A mixture of congratulations and disappointment goes around the table. This isn’t news. It’s been obvious for months. Our national president has just made it official.

“How’d Sway take that?” Stash asks.

Rock shrugs. “He’s still having trouble with recovery. He knows he’s not in any condition to lead.”

“Never was,” Dex mutters.

“Amen to that.” Wrath leans over and taps knuckles with Dex.

“You worried he’ll make trouble for Z down the road?” I ask Rock.

“He can try.” Z grins.

“No way,” Sparky says. “You worked your dimple-magic and won them over, Z. That’s your club to lead. Sway can suck it.”

“Dimple what?” Wrath stares at Sparky.

Z grins, showing off said dimples.

“I dunno, bro. He just looks deranged,” Birch says, earning a high-five from Hoot.

“Look who strapped on a pair of balls this morning and came to play with the big boys.” Z’s smile fades. “I hope you know my choice was to come back home.” His gaze goes around the table. “I miss every one of you.”

“You’re doing good things down there, Z,” Dex says. “They need you.”

“And as much as I hate saying it, we need a new VP.” Rock points his gavel at Z.

Z leans forward, looking down the table. His gaze lands on me, and the usual mischief on his face disappears. “I nominate Murphy for the position of vice president.”

Air stalls in my lungs. I blink and stare, then slowly turn my head, searching my brothers’ faces as if someone else here shares my road name. The implications of what Z said sinks in, and I swivel back to face him. “Are you serious?”

“I second Murphy for VP,” Teller says, lifting his hand in the air.

Loud chatter spreads around the table, and Rock bangs the gavel again.

“What’s going on here?” I ask.

“Are you deaf?” Z asks. “By-laws say I nominate my successor. And I nominate you.”

Two

Heidi

It feels wrong to be here, but I’m still compelled to visit.

I park at the end of one row and stare at the line of headstones. A chill runs down my spine, and tears prick my eyes.

He shouldn’t be here.

“Mama?” Alexa’s

soft voice pulls me out of my sorrow.

I turn, smiling at my beautiful daughter. “We’re here.”

I brought her last year, too. I’m not sure what I’ll do when she’s older and starts to ask questions. Or when she’s old enough to tell people where we’ve been.

I think Blake would understand why I come. It doesn’t mean I want to bring it up with him.

Not when we’re about to get married.

Not ever if I can help it.

“Oof.” I lift Alexa out of her car seat, and she wraps her arms around my neck. “You’re getting so big.”

“Where we going?” she asks, glancing around.

How do I even answer that?

“To visit your father.” There. That’s not confusing. She calls Blake Daddy. A lump of guilt settles in my throat. What would she call Blake if Axel were still alive, and we shared custody? Blake’s certainly been more of a father to her than Axel ever was.



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