“Wow, what’s all this?” Beretta asks, leaning forward and staring out the front window.
I don’t answer her only because I know she’s going to figure it out sooner rather than later. I park the truck and walk around to help her out of the car. She lets me help her willingly, and my lips quirk up in a smile. Of course, she notices.
“What’s so funny?” With a tilt of her head and a smirk of her own, she asks.
“Nothing’s funny. I have to say it’s nice you letting me take care of you. You know you’re much more of a hard ass than this. Ms. Independent and all that jazz.”
I make fun of her, and she shrugs. “Eh, I was in a coma. I think that’s cause to let someone take care of me for a little while. Don’t get too used to it, though. I have no intention of laying down forever. You may get one or two days of bed rest out of me, and then I need to get on my feet.” She points at me and turns to make her way to the door.
One or two days? I wonder if that’s all the time I’m going to have to help her through this part of her recovery. In one or two days, am I going to lose the only woman I’ve ever cared about all over again? Fuck, I didn’t think about all this before.
As she reaches out to open the clubhouse door, it swings open, and a loud shout of welcome home comes billowing out. The clubhouse is packed with people from every charter, hang arounds, friends, and family. People she would have known eleven years ago, people she wouldn’t know. I grab hold of her hand to make sure she knows that I’m right here next to her. She squeezes my fingers right back. She’s all smiles when we make our way into the packed clubhouse.
“What the hell are all you bastards doing in here? Jeez, you act like you were never going to see me again or something,” Beretta laughs, and a couple of other people chuckle along with her as well.
“You’re not allowed to do that shit again,” Ricochet says, and Beretta walks over to give him a hug. It’s packed in here, but it’s quiet. Everyone is mostly just staring at Beretta, unsure of what to do next. I don’t know anyone who’s been in a situation where they were forced to act like the last ten years didn’t exist.
“Well, now that she’s home, and we’ve all said our hellos let’s do what y’all came here for!” I raise my voice, and Mug throws his head back and howls like a fucking dog.
“You heard the man! Party time!” In seconds, the people standing in front of us scatter, and the music comes on. The lights are dimmed, and now instead of everyone just staring at Beretta, we walk around slowly, letting everyone check in on Beretta.
“You didn’t have to come. I know you must be busy!” Beretta says to Abyss.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Actually, let me run over here and try to find Mug. Can’t let him get all fuckin’ crazy in here. The club will be burned to the ground before the night’s over.”
Beretta and Abyss laugh while I stand back to watch the interactions. Thirty minutes into the party, I see the first sign that Beretta isn’t handling it as well as she’s making this shit seem. Venom and Beretta talk for a second, but midway through the conversation, Beretta rubs the back of her neck and moves away from her.
I have to push my way through the crowd to catch up with her. “Hey, are you good?”
“Muffler, everyone looks so different. The clothes are wrong, and who is Reno? When did the club take on another prospect? People are acting like they can’t remember anything I’m talking about, and I’m starting to feel like maybe it’s not me who lost my memory but them. It feels like I’m going crazy.” She lets out a harsh sigh, and I pull her into my arms to comfort her.
This is going downhill and fast.
At first, she goes rigid, and her head pokes up to look around. She’s trying to make sure no one’s watching us.
“We’re out, remember?” I say, poking her side lightly.
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Well, that makes this much easier.” She winds her arms around my waist and snuggles against my chest.
She feels so fucking good there. I don’t know how I went the last decade without feeling her against me like this. How the hell could I have been dumb enough to really let her go? Sure, I thought that I was doing what was best for her, but I never really thought about all the shit that I would lose in the process.
“Muffler, you got a second?” Chuckles calls me, and Beretta pulls away. Just as I turn to see what the hell Chuckles could want, I see both Hoodrat and Giada coming over. He must want to get me away from Beretta so Hoodrat can talk to her. This silent treatment shit is for fucking teenagers. Even though Beretta thinks we’re a lot younger than we are right now, I’m too fucking old for this shit. I want to just bury the fucking hatchet and figure out what his real problem is, but I don’t want to do that while Beretta’s still so fragile.
I kiss Beretta once on the cheek before I make my way over to Chuckles, who’s standing by the door. “What’s up?”
“Man, what the hell did you do to Hoodrat? The man was fuckin’ livid when he walked in and saw you and Beretta, hugged up.”
“At this point, there’s not one damn thing I can do about that. He knew what the fuck was going to happen when Beretta got here. He can play the overprotective brother some other time. I don’t have the damn patience for it.” I squeeze my hands at my sides and try to let the thump of the music calm me down.
“I’m just saying, I don’t know what was going on ten years ago, but it’s obvious Hoodrat isn’t over it. You need to make it right with him.” Chuckles puts the beer he’s holding in his hand up to his lips now that he’s finished giving me his sage advice.
I simply grunt and walk away.
When I turn back toward the crowd, I don’t see Beretta. My eyes scan from corner to corner, but I can’t find her anywhere. My first instinct is to panic, but she’s surrounded by people that love her, so I know she’s okay. I catch Hoodrat’s glare as he stares daggers at me, leaning up against the wall with Giada at his side. Giada is the one that tilts her head in the direction of the rooms. Like I told Chuckles a few moments ago. I don’t have time to deal with Hoodrat right now. I need to make sure Beretta is okay.
I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu when I get to my room and open the door. Beretta’s lying on my bed, her shoes off and her eyes on me.
I’ve dreamed of seeing this shit for the past ten years, and now that it’s happening again, I’m stuck here in the doorway with the raging party going on behind me.