That text made her cry, too. She had to hide her tears behind an unsteady smile because she had been in the middle of dealing with a patient.
Stella sent one two days after Cassie’s. Along with a picture of what looked like half of a modular home on an eighteen-wheeler’s trailer, came the words: The club’s starting a new business. Renting out these homes on a corner of the farm. It’s a really exclusive neighborhood. ;)
Jemma could guess how “exclusive” it was. Somehow, Trip knew how to make shit shine. Anything to help his brothers, but still help the club’s coffers, he jumped on the opportunity.
The man was smart. He also had good people around him to help with his goals.
A few times a week, the Fury sisterhood would check in with her. The messages were short and she saw right through it all.
What they were doing and why they were doing it.
The ones that didn’t make her cry made her smile. Even sometimes both.
Like a distant photo of Cage, wearing his cut and carrying Dyna.
Another picture of Cage propping up Dyna on the seat of his sled. Even with his disheveled hair falling in his face, she could see the wide smile he wore as he pretended the baby was riding his ’75 Shovelhead. Her baby tee said Ride or Cry. Of course, accompanied with a little motorcycle graphic.
Next came a sixty-second video of Judge and Cassie’s Daisy pushing Dyna’s stroller as the six-year-old chattered a mile a minute. Jemma watched it over and over late one night until she fell asleep.
In all those texts no one judged her for leaving.
No one told her she was stupid to do so.
No one asked her to come home.
They only kept the connection going, kept open the avenues of communication.
Though, a two word text from her brother cracked open her heart and made it bleed all over again. It simply said: Sorry, sis.
That apology could be for so many different things.
Sorry for asking her to come home to help? For stirring up the memories?
Sorry for what happened to Dyna with the Shirleys?
Sorry she was so stupid to fall in love with a man and his daughter who lived a life she swore she never would?
Sorry.
She closed her eyes and simply breathed in the still very warm, early September air.
She was sorry, too.
For Cage not wanting to give up that life, even for Dyna.
For Jemma not wanting to live that life, even for Dyna.
Neither would give a fucking inch.
Because that was who they were...
Born from stubborn Fury blood. Built from unbreakable Fury bones.
Both stubborn as fuck and neither willing to compromise.
Each believed what they wanted was for the best.
In truth, that was what a solid relationship was. Full of compromise.
She had stayed for six weeks.
Now, she’d been gone for six weeks.
She had probably missed so much.
She didn’t realize how badly she’d miss the photos and videos the ladies had sent her, Jemma was pretty sure without Cage knowing.
Didn’t realize how badly she’d miss them. Not just Dyna, but Cage, too.
Didn’t realize how much she’d miss snuggling with the baby or sleeping wrapped around Dyna’s father. Simply hearing his voice.
Seeing his face.
Waiting for him to walk in the door at the end of his workday.
Watching him interact with his baby, one unplanned and unexpected.
But he did it.
To look at him, one wouldn’t think he’d be the best father in the world. But he was. In the beginning by accident, now by determination.
Even raising her in an MC, he was.
“She’s got the best right here. This ain’t the Originals’ club. This is our club... The Fury is our family, Jem. Not just mine and Dyna’s. Yours, too. Why can’t you fuckin’ see that?”
He was right. The Blood Fury wasn’t the same club as the Originals. They were a family. They had each other’s back, they didn’t stab each other in them.
The women weren’t catty, they supported each other.
Even so...
It was new. Things could change.
Worse, the Shirleys still existed. Even if they didn’t, something or someone else could come along to wreak havoc. To try to tear the club apart.
Who would be in the crossfire then?
Dyna, Daisy, the ol’ ladies, future children.
The businesses they’d built. The homes they’ve made. The families they were creating.
All of it was at risk. Why?
The simple answer was because they were a motorcycle club.
No matter how clean the club remained, from the outside they were still looked upon the same. As a “gang” of rough, dirty bikers who broke the law, did drugs and were violent.
While some was still true, the Blood Fury Trip resurrected was not the same as their parents’ club.
She shouldn’t judge them like others did. She’d lived with them for six weeks, she knew the truth. The good, the bad, and even the ugly.
But she still worried...
She picked up her phone and scrolled through the latest texts.