I fucking hate thinking about that woman, so I force myself not to, which is a lot like trying to ignore a third degree burn.
Rig didn’t act nervous. He seemed at ease, like he always expected to take the throne, and it didn’t sit well with his men. I was too young and too stupid to understand the gravity of it back then, but I sure do now. My brothers didn’t just vote to give me a title—they voted to give me power, authority over their lives, and the responsibility of keeping them alive.
Fuck.
I’m not ready for this.
I’ve barely finished sewing my president patch onto my leather before Pop stands from his seat and places his hands on the back of the chair. He takes a deep breath, his eyes scan the room, and he laughs.
“First time I sat in this chair, I was still in diapers.”
I groan and turn my attention to Ryan, who’s grinning from ear to ear.
Three, two, one . . .
“Going out in diapers too, eh, old man?”
For the first time in almost a year, Pop smiles. It’s not a smirk. It’s not forced. He’s just . . . smiling. His brows are relaxed, his cheeks are high and pushing up on his eyes, and his chest shakes with laughter. He shakes his head. Not since Pop came to me before Church and told me he was putting in that marker has he looked this chill. Not only was that conversation close to his heart, but everything that followed it was a goddamn consequence of our choice to head out to New York. I don’t regret it. I can’t regret it. Alex was just some girl who got caught up in shit she couldn’t handle when I promised Pop I had his back regardless of what the club voted. She’s not much older than the kid I almost had, but she’s tough, and she’s growing into one hell of a woman. Chief wouldn’t want us to regret the shit that went down, even though we lost him in the process.
“I’d like to blame your mother for that mouth of yours, but I’m afraid you’re all me,” Pop says.
“Well, half you and half some hooker you knocked up,” Ryan says dryly. He never talks about his birth mother, so nobody really knows what to say. Pop only ever refers to Ruby as his mother, even if she didn’t give birth to him. Thank fuck, too, because the whole Ryan and Alex thing would be more twisted than it already is.
“He’s your problem now.” Pop’s got his eyes on me. He slaps the back of the chair and walks around the table to Chief’s empty seat at the other end. He stares at it for a long moment before pulling it out and sitting down. We’re silent as he gets comfortable. Nobody’s sat in that chair since Chief.
When the moment passes, everyone’s eyes drift to me. I stare at them for a long time before realizing that they expect me to take the head of the table.
“What? I can’t even get drunk first? You fucking assholes.” Moving from the VP’s chair to the vacant seat to my left takes more effort than I could ever imagine. It’s the second most difficult thing I’ve ever done.
The most difficult thing I ever fucking did was walking away from the only person I was living for.
The rest of Church is terrible. It doesn’t even suck. It’s not like the time Grady and Trigger pulled a piece on each other. It’s not like when Chief died. I have no idea what I’m doing here. I fumble through procedure, trying to lead my brothers—my men—through voting in new officer positions and deciding if Squat is ready to be patched. I’m not a small dude, but I feel like I’m about a foot tall through this fucking meeting. Pop refuses to take any other officer position, saying he just wants to ride until he can’t anymore, and after every single person in the room hassles him, we finally move on. I suggest Grady for VP and nobody objects.
To everyone’s surprise, Grady raps his knuckles against the wooden table and says, “I want Trigger for sarge.”
“You yankin’ my dick?” Ryan’s eyes are narrowed and his brows are pulled together.
“You’re a shithead, you got a loud mouth, and you’re disrespectful. You need to chill your temper, and there’s no better way to do it than to be responsible for the discipline of your brothers. Time to grow up, son.”
It’s a bold move, but after a few comments from the brothers, they vote in favor of the nomination. Diesel takes over as road captain, and then we move on to discussing whether or not Squat deserves his top rocker. Bear, Torque, and Grady are hesitant. Torque doesn’t really know the guy, and Bear and Grady think he needs more time with the club.
“Every man at this table has a history that brought him here. For Rob, that was Aaron. Aaron died trying to keep our women safe. His death still fucks with Mindy. They got close before he died, and she’s made friends with Rob now. He’s hurting, but he shows up every day, does his part, and doesn’t bitch. I don’t doubt his heart,” Ian says.
“So, take another vote,” Torque says.
We do, and this time, everybody votes in favor of patching the little fuck in.