She shakes her head and pats her eyes dry, saying, “No.”
“Then stop doubting me now. I’ll walk through fire for you, Mama. You know that,” he says and kisses her cheek. No matter how many loving moments I’ve been witness to between them, it still amazes me how much they love each other. Love like this, that stands decades and fights—that stands despite separations and parenting two bratty fucking punks—love like that? It’s as real as anything fucking gets. That kind of shit makes a man almost believe it can be replicated.
“Fucking pervert,” a deep voice says from behind me, and a heavy hand slams on my shoulder. I jump in place and throw my fist back without even looking to see who’s there. Spinning around, I see Wyatt, the club’s vice president, blocking my swing. He bursts into heavy laughter. Ma and Pop scramble from the bed and hurry over to us.
“Damn,” Wyatt says, looking Ma up and down. He whistles and smirks at Pop. “Your pervert son was standing here. Damn shame you’re dressed, babe.”
Pop laughs and looks over at me with a disturbingly happy smile on his face. Sick fuck. “Dude. She’s your mom,” Pop says.
I shake my head and throw my hands in the air. Ma pats me on the check and shakes her head. There’s a coy smile tugging at her lips.
“Don’t be such a grouch, Ryan,” she says.
I turn on my heels and leave the house, shouting behind me, “Come on, you nancies. We got Church.”
Despite the laughter and easy going demeanor when we leave the house, the moment we’re on our bikes and heading for the clubhouse, the mood shifts. Wyatt’s mouth forms a thin line, and his eyes harden. Pop is quiet pulling down the long dirt driveway and then he’s quiet as we enter the clubhouse. Ian is pretty much always quiet when we’re about to discuss club matters, so that’s nothing new, but there’s a fucked-up vibe emanating from him.
I round up the brothers as Pop and Wyatt head straight through the main room of the clubhouse and dart to the right down the long hall and to the chapel at the very end. All they know is that Pop’s called Church, but they don’t know why. We had our weekly meeting yesterday, so they know something’s up.
Inside the chapel, the boys are restless. Their eyes are darting around, and a few of them have figured out who knows what’s happening and who doesn’t. I keep my head down as I cross the room and take my seat next to Ian—the club’s treasurer—and Diesel, who doesn’t hold an officer position. Across from me is Duke—my best friend and our secretary. His eyes are wide when they land on mine, and he mouths, “What the fuck?” I try to ignore the question and let my eyes skim around the table. I would have said something to him had I the time, but I didn’t.
On the other side of Ian is Grady—the club’s sergeant at arms. He’s leaning over the table, hands clasped. His brows are drawn together. And across from him is Wyatt. As the head of the table, Pop sits closest to Wyatt and Grady. Neither Ian nor Wyatt are meeting anyone’s eyes, either. I hate this shit. It’s as uncomfortable as all get out. But Pop asked that we keep it on the down low until he’s made his speech so his men can hear from him first.
“I know you’re all sick of looking at my ugly mug,” Pop says from his seat at the head of the table. His grayish black hair is in need of a cut and keeps falling in his face no matter how many times he tucks it behind his ears. Even though the dude’s over forty, he’s still got the same build and coloring he had back when I was a kid. Ma has a theory that the reason he stays so young looking is because he’s mean and has practically pickled himself in being an asshole. By that same thought, she’s told me more often than I should be proud of that I’m never going to age beyond twenty-five. Don’t know what it says about her that she loves such assholes, but that’s Ma. The ornerier Pop gets, the more she falls in love with him. God only knows why.
“Years back, before half of you were even patched—back when Rage sat in this chair—I asked my brothers for something on behalf of my woman. She was a good woman then, and she’s a damn good woman now. I don’t regret taking on her shit and asking the club to shoulder that burden, and I’m fucking proud to wear this patch. Made a promise to Ruby, and in exchange for the club helping me to keep that promise, I did any fucking thing asked of me. Some of it fucked me up for a while, and some of it’s still fucking me up. But I did it. I’ve done my time, which took me away from my kids.” Pop’s eyes fall on me and then Ian before he looks over the room again.