There was a new kind of normal that had settled over the club since the announcement of Harry’s cancer and the appearance of Eric. None of the guys were taking Harry’s illness well. Every single one of them had a healthy respect for their road captain, and knowing that he was going out spending his last days incarcerated for the club only made that respect grow, which in turn made the pain of losing him even harder. Walking into the bar and finding someone staring into the bottom of a shot glass looking lost and in pain wasn’t unusual those days.

Even Tate seemed broken by the news of Harry. He’d made a connection with both Harry and Deeks since we’d moved into The Hut. He’d looked up to them like a pair of young grandfathers, their opinions meaning the world to him, especially as they were teaching him things about his new bike. He now spent a lot of time with Libby, alone.

Finding some level of normality was becoming increasingly more difficult. There was a hole without Harry around. A large crater that seemed lost without his larger than life personality filling it. The Hut felt too quiet without that resounding cough of his to fill the odd silences that sometimes hung over the place.

Then there was Eric...

Eric Tucker made me nervous.

The man was just as formidable as Drew. He was as commanding, authoritative, and strong, which was exactly why the two of them seemed to come head to head on every little thing they discussed. The constant strain was like living in a wolf pack with two alphas. Both men were leaders, but one of them was no longer in the position to call the shots, and he consistently forgot about that. When he apologized, it was always with an underhanded compliment of I was just making sure you made the right decision. I don’t think he realized how condescending he was being. I also don’t think he realized that Drew would only take him undermining him for so long before he snapped, especially with everything going on and the added stress to him, the club, and the businesses.

I, more than anyone, knew something would have to give sooner or later, and I had to admit, my money was on my man. He was focused on the future of the club, and focused on getting Harry out on bail and supplying him with the best defense money could buy. Something that was a huge source of contrition for Eric.

The two crashed heads every time Harry’s name was brought up, going at one another like feral dogs barking through a fence. Eric just didn’t have the backing Drew did. He wasn’t the president, and he never would be again. He’d made his choice, and every man wearing a cut had made that clear at one point or another during his stay.

Eric had been a surprise for all of us, but the fallout of the shit that had gone on at the party was just as energy zapping. All of us now had our own crosses to bear. Including Autumn, who I’d been concerned would never return to the club after her ordeal.

Thank God I’d been wrong.

Since the gunfight at the back of Rusty’s, Autumn now spent every weekend at The Hut with Deeks, and she didn’t seem inclined to stop the new habit. She was another old lady in the mix of things, alongside me, and she inadvertently became a den mother to the whores. The incident—though horrific and still visible in pale yellows and greens on her cheeks—had only made her stronger. To me, she was a bit of a superhero.

I loved having her around for several reasons, but my favorite was the way she spoke to Eric. He had a habit of barking out orders, almost as though he couldn’t help himself, and Autumn was more than happy to remind him that he was at the bottom of the totem pole. I think I even heard her mention that Kenny had more authority than he did, but I pretended not to hear because even though he and I weren’t exactly friends, he was Drew’s father, and I had to stay neutral.

Rusty’s was closed for a week after the party, though not by choice. As an active crime scene, they needed to keep people away, but I think the authorities behind that decision were the very same ones who had gone after The Hounds for the death of Jacob Hove in the first place. Rusty never blamed the MC for this extended hiatus, and neither did Janette. They were upset about a week of income loss, but they aimed their frustrations at the system that had caused the elongated closure of the business. An event which had spurred our lawyer to dig into all of the laws revolving around the situation, and managed to stop the inexcusable miscarriage of justice, allowing Rusty to open the diner again.

I hadn’t been to work since they’d reopened.

I hadn’t wanted to cause any more problems for two of my favorite people.

Neither one of them liked that I’d chosen to stay away for the week since they’d reopened. Neither one liked the fact that I asked them not to put my name on the schedule. They’d accepted Libby as a new waitress to cover my shifts for a while, and she would probably stay there even if I chose to go back and work, but for the time being, I just needed some time with Drew and his band of brothers. I needed to be there for them.

Drew and I had tried to visit Harry the day or so he’d been in the county lockup, but he’d refused all visitors. He’d also refused bail, pleaded guilty to all counts, and declined the doctor Drew had tried to sneak in through his lawyer. I knew Harry wasn’t trying to hurt Drew. This was just his way of protecting himself, Drew and the members of the club, but whether or not it was his objective, the lack of communication killed Drew.

The bastards of Babylon—as I had dubbed them—had the judge make a special arrangement later the same afternoon, and after pleading guilty to all charges, Harry was sentenced to life for murder, they didn’t even bother with manslaughter. The next morning he was transported to Huntsville.

There had been a couple of days that I’d had to drive to the county jail and found Drew glaring at the glass doors with fury burning in those blue-green eyes. As though being there would make Harry appear and give us all a fighting chance to bring him home.

A chance that would never come.

There were some nights I needed solace and would find myself in our room, flipping through the pages of a bridal magazine I’d picked up without really thinking about what I was doing. My engagement was a small ray of sunshine in the sadness that shrouded us these days. I could spend hours looking through those glossy pages and imagine the big lit up letters spelling love making a division between The Hut and the repo holding lot. Seeing all those leather-clad bikers lined up in front of the soft words was an image that made me smile.

I was laid on my stomach, trying very carefully to tear out a wedding dress from a page when the door was thrown open, and I was forced to cover the magazine with the edge of the blanket, rolling on top of it as I looked over my shoulder and found Drew leaning against the door jam.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I confessed, making sure the magazine was completely covered. Though I was pretty sure my heated cheeks were giving me away.

He’d not looked soft since Harry had been taken away, but leaning against that door with his legs crossed at the ankle and his arms folded loosely over his chest, there was a glimmer of my old Drew.

I’d missed him.

“Sorry.” He smirked softly, chucking his chin up and glancing at the bed. “What you got there?”

“Eh, just a magazine,” I responded, folding my arms over it.

He raised a brow and interrogated me without saying a damn word.

“Porn,” I lied, grinning up at him. “Variety is the spice of life and all that.”

“Porn? Now we’re talking. Let me take a look.” He wasted no time in pushing off the doorframe and striding across the room toward me.

Fuck.

“Naked men.” I mentally rolled my eyes at myself. “Gay porn!”

I was such a bad liar. I needed to stop, but porn was less embarrassing than the truth.

He faltered, stopping at the end of the bed and scowling as he stared into my eyes. “What the fuck? You need to look at other naked men when I’m right here, ready and willing to strip for you at any given hour?” Drew narrowed his eyes, no doubt watching the flaming heat grow in my cheeks. “Show me,” he demanded quietly.

I purposefully ignored his request, smashed my elbow on the magazine and propped my head up with my hand as I grinned up at him. “You should totally be flattered. Not one of these dicks is anywhere near the perfection of yours. It’s a compliment really.”

“Ayda…”

“And now I’m all hot and ready for you.” I reached toward the waistband of his jeans with the arm that wasn’t grinding a bridal magazine into the mattress. “How about that striptease?”

Drew glanced down at my hand and then looked up through hooded eyes. “Now?”

“Yes, please.”

“Your wish is my command, darlin’.” He grabbed my wrist and began to tug me forward. “Come sit at the end of the bed first, though, yeah?” The bastard smirked.

I pressed my lips together in my own smirk and met those eyes that had the first spark of fire in them. How the hell was always able to do this to me? One look. That was all it took.

“I’m at the right eye level here.” I winked.

“Right.” He nodded sarcastically, tugging on my arm even harder and dragging my unwilling body forward. “But I want you here. Don’t make me come to you. Otherwise, I might get a closer look at that midget porn you’re trying to hide.”

My laughter came in a short burst as I grabbed the blanket and magazine so it traveled with me. “Dammit, I knew the gay porn was the wrong direction to take.”

I tried my best to wriggle away even though the laughter was still coming on odd hysterical bursts.

Drew being Drew was unrelenting, and no one, not even me, could stop him as he bent to grab me, pick me up and throw me away from the bed playfully. It took him all of three seconds to remove me from the situation, grab the blanket and the magazine and hold it above his head.

“Last chance. Tell me the truth or pay the price.” He grinned.

In an act of impeccable immaturity, I lifted the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head with a giggle that made me feel lighter than I had in weeks. I could still see him through the thin material, just a little fuzzier than he normally was. “Just look. You know how shit I am with lies.”

“Damn,” he muttered. “This must be solid gold midget porn.” With a huff of laughter, he sank onto the bed and unwrapped the magazine, letting the blanket drop to the floor. For a few seconds, he just stared at the cover, not moving or saying a word as a woman in white stared back at him like she was the happiest chick alive.

“See,” I mumbled with a quiet snort. “You should have let it go at porn.”

I pulled my shirt back down and approached him with a small skip, one hand landing on his shoulder as I slipped between his legs.

“I don’t know why I bought it.”

He flicked through a few pages, lingering on some longer than others before he closed it and rang his thumbs over the cover and looked up at me. “Why the hell would you be embarrassed by this?”

I gave a half-laugh, shrugging as I looked down at him. “It’s such a chick thing to do.”

“Last time I checked, you had all the chick components.” He raised his brows in waiting.

I took a deep breath and straddled his lap, my forearms resting on his shoulders as I met his gaze again with a warm smile. “I know, but it’s not the right time for this. I was buying milk at the gas station, and there it was, all white Chantilly lace and tulle, and it called my name. No matter how much the other part of my brain screamed ‘inappropriate’.”

The magazine slipped from his grip as he wrapped his arms around my lower back and pulled me closer. The humor had gone. His eyes, however, were full of heat and heart.

“I’ve let you down. You’re wearing my bright yellow sunshine ring on your wedding finger, yet you’re so focused on me, on this club and Harry, Eric, and all the other shit we’ve got going on, you’re feeling guilty about drifting off into a daydream. When did we stop talking? When did you stop telling me your every fantasy, whether it’s tulle or lace or bright lights in dark Babylon skies, Ayda?” he whispered.

I smiled at him, one hand moving to the nape of his neck and squeezing as I let my lips brush against his.

“Drew, you don’t know how to let me down. It’s not that I’ve stopped telling you anything. I’m just saving it all up to talk your ear off when things have become a little easier. This ring is my sunshine, it keeps me going and focused on the future, but you need to deal with today and yesterday before tomorrow is in your line of sight. This isn’t me hiding things. This isn’t you letting me down. This is us handling what we can so tomorrow will come.”

“Fuck off,” he pushed out through a cheeky, seductive grin. “This is you putting everyone before yourself, and you know it.”

“Jesus Christ, I love you.” I chirped in giddiness. “Fine. Give me what I want right this second.”

Drew squeezed my ass, gripping it tight before he spun us about around in one swift move, my back landing against the comforter on the bed before he shuffled me up to the pillow and made me comfortable. His hands seemed to be everywhere as he climbed on top of me. He ran his fingers through the lengths of my hair, fanned it out on the pillow, and whispered, “So much sunshine” with a smile. He traced my cheek, my neck, and let his finger slide between the curves of my breasts before he found the hand wearing my engagement ring and brought it up between us. On his knees, there was a space for us to play hanging between us, and he used it. He used everything around him to make every moment more special and every touch more perfect.

Kissing the ring he’d given me, he dropped my hand to my stomach and hovered over my body, resting on his arms, which were propped up on either side of my head.

“What you want right this second is what you’ve not had yet. As good as this body of mine is…” He winked, letting his eyes fall to my mouth. “You need more than that. You need to be reminded of what I’m going to give you. So let’s start with the wedding…”

“What about it?” I asked with a grin, my hands trying to make their way to his belt.

“Well, I figure you’ll be the star of the show, as always,” he whispered, running his thumbs over my hair. “Libby, Sloane, Autumn, all the chicks will help you become the lady in white, while my guys will try to get me drunk before breakfast. But I’ll refuse it. I’ll refuse everything. I want to be more sober than I’ve ever been when I see you walking toward me with that sexy as sin smile on your face. I’ll be wearing a suit.” He opened his eyes wider. “You heard me right. A damn fucking suit. Sharp and crisp. Tailor-made. Shiny shoes and the whole shit.”

A giggle slipped from my lips as my fingers released his belt. “How do you expect me to control myself? I’m going to take one look at you and I’ll be absolutely lost in my own fantasies of what will be happening behind closed doors the second I get you alone.”

“Fantasize away. If I’ve paid hundreds of dollars for a suit and shiny, shiny shoes, you’re gonna have to hold the ovaries, darlin’. At least until we’ve said the vows.” He beamed, flashing his brightest, whitest smile. “The vows will be poetic, by the way. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m quite the wordsmith when it comes to you. I could write love songs for days. You’ll be crying, ruining all your makeup, and I’ll be standing right above you, lovestruck on your streaming mascara and wishing I could screw you up against the altar in front of everyone. Panda eyes and all.”

My hands abandoned their work on his belt and moved to cups his cheeks. I couldn’t explain the sudden emotion that came over me with his words, but I could see it. I could see me in a dress, him in a suit and I could imagine how overwhelmed I would be—how happy I would be seeing him there waiting for me.

“Tell me more,” I whispered desperately.

“Some guy we don’t know will tell us we’re husband and wife,” he whispered, leaning in closer. “And I’ll get hard, and you’ll get swoony, but we’ll both know we have to hold off. Because all our brothers will be in the front rows, cheering us on. Even Harry.” He stopped, a flash of uncertainty washing over him before he flicked it away and said it like he meant it. “He’ll be coughing and spluttering, and he’ll annoy the shit out of us, but he’ll be free, and that will be good enough. All we’ll be focused on is each other. You’ll be the star. I’ll be the guy whisking you off your feet and carrying you to his bike to go and ride on a straight road that leads us to the horizon. It’ll be perfect, Ayda. Every second will be perfect. You’ll wake up the woman you used to be and go to sleep as the woman you were always meant to be. My wife. Mrs. Drew Tucker.”

I pulled him to me, our mouths crashing together in need and desire. Always desire. With my eyes closed, I could see it, and I wanted it so badly. I wanted every little detail of the wedding he’d built for us. So I absorbed every image and held it to my heart so I could pull it out whenever I needed it the most.