“Daz!”
I was barely over the threshold of the clubhouse before I heard that, and I had barely had time to brace before a very female body came barreling into me.
Ember hugged me like she hadn’t seen me in years, not like she’d been right there with me for the funeral. It was over the top, but after how hard things had been and that scene with Kate just hours ago, it was fucking welcome.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
She stepped back just in time for me to be pulled into another hug, this one awkward given the size of the very pregnant belly between us. Ash squeezed me tight all the same.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”
Christ, this girl. She’d said that same shit repeatedly on the phone. As if I could be upset she didn’t travel when she’d be bringing a baby into the world any time now.
“Stop. How’s the second princess?” I ran a hand along her bump.
“Good. But don’t let Sketch hear you say that. He’s obstinate this has to be a boy. I think he doesn’t want to find out the sex because he’s afraid of the answer.”
Ember laughed. “With Emmy already running around ready to break hearts and cause chaos, can you blame him?”
There were enough Disciples around to deal with the shit storm Emmy would no doubt brew up when she was older and started—I hated to even think of it—dating. But I didn’t get a chance to reply because Ham and Max came in behind me.
For the next several minutes, I was fussed over by the girls while Jager, Ham, and Stone got their own assurances I was all right. I’d started to wonder where Sketch was with his extremely pregnant woman there when he came into the room with a very sleepy looking Emmy in his arms.
At least, she looked sleepy—until she caught sight of me.
“Uncle Daz!” she squealed, practically diving out of her dad’s arms and running right to me. I knelt down to catch her and she threw her arms, one still holding the stuffed bear I’d gotten her for her last birthday, around my neck.
Getting back up, I held the precious girl tight.
Ash smiled at her daughter’s back, then looked up to me. “She hasn’t put Bear down since you left.”
Bear was the stuffed animal I’d gotten her a few months ago for her fifth birthday. I’d found out they made a little Harley-Davidson jacket at Build-a-Bear and had to get it for my girl, then told her he needed a road name like the rest of us. She decided on Bear. It wasn’t inspired, but she was five.
“I missed you,” Emmy murmured into my neck.
“And I missed you, princess.”
I’d missed all of this. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d needed it until then.
I was one beer in—after everyone let me sit down and grab one—when the door opened and Quinn stomped in. Ace followed behind her a second later, having to catch the door before it closed on him.
Shit, female in a fit.
“Babe,” Ace called after her, doing a piss poor job at keeping the amusement out of his voice.
“No. I’m not talking to you,” she snapped, moving farther into the room and noticing everyone’s eyes were on her. Usually, that kind of attention wasn’t in her comfort zone. Whatever Ace had done meant she didn’t give that first fuck.
Instead, she marched right over to Sketch, who obviously knew something given the grin the brother was sporting.
“And you!” Quinn kept sassing. “It’s one thing for him to do a foolish thing like that, but why did you let him?” Sketch opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with an incensed, “You didn’t even just let him. You did it!”
Ace was still standing near the front door, grinning unrepentantly. It probably meant I was a dick, but I was enjoying the fuck out of the show she was putting on right along with him. After the last few weeks of quiet and misery, this was a welcome bit of drama. Not to mention, quiet Quinn throwing attitude around wasn’t intimidating—it was funny.
Ash looked between her man and Quinn before asking in a resigned way, “What did you do?”
“Just my job,” he told her.
“I think part of your job is talking people out of putting crazy shit on their bodies forever,” Quinn cried.
“Quinny,” Max called, getting off Ham’s lap to approach her best friend. “How about you take a breath and fill the rest of us in on what the hell you’re all fired up about?”
Quinn took a little huff of a breath, looking a lot like Emmy did right before she stamped her feet and through a princess fit. “That one,” she started, pointing to Ace, “and him,” she swung her finger toward Sketch, “they…GAH!”
“I’m going to guess this involves a tattoo and not some sort of homoerotic encounter you’re keeping from me,” Max guessed.
“Seriously, babe? Why do you always have to fuckin’ go there?” Ham called, exasperated.
“Blame the internet!” Max shot back. “It’s not my fault guy-on-guy is hot.”
“Max,” Quinn snapped, “focus!”
“Right,” Max muttered, moving her attention over to Ace. “What’d you do?”
Meanwhile, Ace had started moving toward his girl, still amused at her tantrum. He didn’t reply to Max, just looked at Quinn, and asked, “Should I keep it covered, little bird?”
She rolled her eyes, keeping them toward the ceiling as she sighed. “You might as well show them. It’s not like it’s going to be covered forever. It’s on your freaking arm.”
Ace started rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, careful of what was definitely new ink. While he did, Quinn took a look around the room, really noticing her whole audience—noticing me.
Forgetting Ace and her tiff entirely, she moved around him and right toward me until she wrapped me in a hug.
“Hi, Daz,” she said, her voice way softer than it had been in her tirade. “I didn’t know you were back.”
I hugged her back. “Made it just in time for the show,” I teased.
She pulled back a bit, not letting me distract her. “How’re you doing?”
Before I could answer, I was saved by Max yelling, “Holy shit!”
Quinn sighed and turned back to where Ace now had his arm bared for everyone to see. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I walked us both over to see what all the fuss was about.
On his forearm, still tinged red at the edges and shiny, was a pin-up girl with a stack of books, horn-rimmed glasses, a tight skirt showing the tops of her thigh-highs, and her blouse unbuttoned enough to bare plenty of cleavage. Besides clearly being a librarian like her, Quinn was obviously objecting to the fact that the woman in the image was her. There was no denying it. Sketch had managed to get her likeness down to a tee, even in the small space.
“You look hot, Quinny,” Max put in.
I looked over at Sketch. “Nice work, man.”
Quinn swung out an arm to whack me in the gut. “Not nice work! That’s me! And it’s all—”
“Sexy as hell?” Ember, who’d made her way over to take a look as well, supplied.
“It’s weird!” Quinn insisted.
Ace reached out, grabbing her and pulling her into him. She resisted, but not enough to keep him from getting the arm with the offending tattoo wrapped around her waist.
“I like having you on my arm,” he said as he moved in to kiss her neck, not giving a damn that she tried to pull away.
“You could have at least asked me first,” she griped.
“Would you have said yes?”
“No!”
Everyone but Quinn laughed.
“That’s why he didn’t ask,” Ham put in.
Quinn, who I wouldn't have guessed was the type, actually pouted in response.
“I think it’s hot as hell,” Max offered, earning her a heated glare.
“You are a terrible best friend. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Max just shrugged. “I can get you drunk so you’ll stop being hung up on people seeing the sex kitten version of you and realize it’s actually seriously cool.”
Quinn groaned and covered her blushing cheeks with her hands. “Not helping,” she muttered into her palms.
I couldn’t resist. “Why, because she called you a sex kitten? That’s nothing. I was thinking more along the lines of Ace never needing jerk off material again since he’s got some inked right there on his arm.”
Throwing her hands up in the air, Quinn broke free of Ace’s hold and stormed off. Ace looked my way, his expression the same frustrated one I got a lot.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re such a dick.”
I made my way back to the couches to grab a seat next to Ember—right next to her, where our legs were touching and Jager was looking like he was tempted to lay my ass out—while I shot back, “If you can honestly say that shit won’t happen, I’ll take it back.”
He didn’t argue. The fucker knew I was right. He just adjusted the beanie he always had on and followed his girl.
“You’re such a pig,” Ember said, but it was almost wistful.
“Aw, did you miss me, babe?” I put my hand on her exposed thigh beneath the end of her shorts. It was probably a really stupid move, but I couldn’t help myself. “Jagerbomb there not taking care of you?”
The brother didn’t even hesitate. He leaned forward and threw a jab right across his woman’s lap full-force into my bicep. I laughed, but that shit hurt. I’d never been with Jager in the ring—I wasn’t stupid enough to try—but I figured he hadn’t pulled that one much. There’d be a serious bruise there by the morning.
“Hands. Off.”
Not wanting to court another hit, I scooted over on the cushion until there was a little space between Ember and me.
“All right, all right. Fuck. Some welcome home this shit is.”
Ember, not even reacting to her man’s outburst, asked, “How’re Kate and Owen?”
We’d talked a few times since the funeral. All the women and half the brothers made it a point to check in. She knew all about how Kate was—or, more accurately, wasn’t—handling things. I figured what she was actually asking was how leaving the house with at least Kate understanding we weren’t going back had gone.
“Owen’s fine. Kid still can’t really digest all of this. Not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing, but at least he’s not losing it, so I’ll take it for now. Kate…still can’t really say. Aside from me knowing she’s crying all night instead of sleeping, she doesn’t really react anymore. Just walked out of the house this morning without a reaction at all. I’m a little worried about her being at the hotel tonight when she can’t really get away from Owen to let that shit out, but I wanted to get out to the farmhouse and get rooms set up for them before I take them there.”
Ember’s head turned to look at Jager, then over to Sketch, Ash, and Ham, who were sitting around us, also listening. Then, her surprised face came back to me. “No one told you?”
“Told me what?”
Ash spoke up then. “We already took care of getting rooms ready for them. We redid the rooms Emmy and I used when we lived there to give them each something of their own. Emmy’s princess pink probably wouldn’t have gone over too well with Owen.”
“Doc gave us some ideas for what to do for each of them. He also went through their kitchen to get us a list of food to stock up on,” Ember added. “Everything is set for them to move in.”
Shit. My chest got tight.
I thought I’d just be making sure two rooms were clean and had sheets and shit. I didn't dream I’d be able to give Kate and Owen spaces done up just for them, at least not right away.
I should have known this club—my family—wouldn’t let that happen.
“You did all that?” It was a struggle to keep my voice level.
Ash shrugged shyly, and Ember answered, “Deni called around everywhere to find out who had furniture we thought they’d like in stock. Quinn, Max, and Cami helped us get everything and set it all up. The guys painted and did all the heavy lifting.”
Fuck. Everyone was a part of it.
I didn't have words for that. After they’d traveled all that way to be at my side, they piled on taking care of giving my family a home instead of a couple rooms. I wasn’t convinced there were words for that.
I reached out, tagging Ember’s neck and pulling her toward me so I could kiss her head. Jager and any retribution he wanted to vet out be damned. Then, I got to my feet to go give Ash the same. I’d thank the other women when I got my chance, but it would happen. It was the least I could fucking do.
When I sat back down, both the girls were smiling at me. I tried again to come up with something to say, some way to thank them and my brothers, but nothing came.
Ham, the motherfucker who understood me best, got me out of that bind. “What, I don’t get a kiss for moving shit in the heat?”
Just to fuck with the asshole, I got back up, walked right to him, and laid one right on his forehead. I wasn’t even back to my spot on the couch when Max cried out, “Do not tell me I missed biker-on-biker action!”
“Jesus Christ,” Ham muttered.
That did the trick to fully shake off the suffocating emotion. Dropping back to my spot, I let myself laugh full out for the first time in weeks.