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a very long time. She’s the type who constantly puts more on her plate and rarely asks for help, one of those women who want to do it all. While I can’t blame her for it, she needs to ask for help when she’s drowning. I’m not one to speak, though. I’m guilty of the same thing.

“Actually, yeah, I’m really behind on ordering some of the new silverware, plates, mugs, all of it. We’re trying to keep its Billings charm, but we want to make sure we have some Tart merchandise in there as well, small, subtle flashes of the name on the side of mugs and glasses. I haven’t gotten around to it, so if you’re willing to look at some different options and make some decisions, I’d freaking love that.” Ashley hands me a credit card for the club, “Just put it on the card and have it shipped to the store. We re-open the place shortly, so get the quickest shipping, please.”

“No problem.”

“Oh, and can you order some shirts for Tart, please? We’re going to have the girls wear them while they’re working. I’d say get about twenty shirts in various sizes. In addition to who’s worked there before, Syd is going to work at Tart as well.”

“Holy crap, it’s her first real job, right?” Syd is Zane’s adoptive daughter, but her story’s a bit complicated. Her biological father was a biker named Tank, who was murdered when she was a small child, and her biological mother was a clubwhore like I used to be. Her name was Saffron and she was one of the sweetest women I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Her mother was low-key dating the old Prez, Fist, who was Zane’s dad. Long story short, both Saffron and Fist died, leaving Syd without anyone to care for her. Ashley stepped up for a while, but Zane officially adopted Syd a couple years ago. It made sense given the fact everyone here at the club is family and we’d die for one another.

Ashley nods proudly. “It sure is, and I’m amazed at her. Even with keeping her grades up and her sports, she still wants to work. I told her she’s only getting a four-hour shift on Sunday mornings and a four-hour shift after school on Tuesdays, but she’s not complaining. I don’t want to overwork her.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t need to run herself into the ground,” I comment.

“Ashley, what the hell are you doing on your feet?” Blackjack’s voice echoes through the clubhouse and I cackle to myself. He’s always so protective of her and the man treats her like a queen.

Ashley turns to look back at me for a second. “I’d better get going, but thank you so much for your help.”

“No thanks needed. You go take it easy.”

“Fuck that, I’m about to have him drag me into town for some spicy wings. Anything to get this thing out of me,” Ashley groans, causing me to laugh even louder.

I start to walk away, but Hammer comes straight in through the clubhouse doors and our eyes lock on one another’s for a moment. “Hammer, come here. I need to talk to you for a sec,” Blackjack speaks up and Ashley stops walking over to him.

She turns around and faces me. “We might as well go sit down, ‘cause those two can flap jaws more than any women I know.”

The two of us walk over to the booth and as we both take a seat, Ashley keeps her eyes locked on me. “What’s going on between the two of you? It’s like you’ve been avoiding each other lately.”

Inhaling deeply, I debate on answering her honestly, but instead I lie, because the last thing I want to do is cause more issues here. “Nothing, we just haven’t hung out a lot lately. I think he’s really focused on getting down to Los Angeles.”

Ashley nods in understanding at my words and I’m pretty sure she won’t dig anymore. It’s a bullshit response from me, but I don’t want to think about how much I will miss him.

Dammit, I already am.

I pull my phone out from the back pocket of my jeans and ask Ashley where she wanted me to order the stuff from. I only hope keeping busy can distract me from everything I’m feeling right now.

Chapter Three

Never be a prisoner to the past

~ Unknown

Hammer

“You wanted to chat?” I question Blackjack after he called me over a few moments ago. There’s been nothing but silence between us, which only tells me there’s something going on in that head of his.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, wanted to check in and see how your pops is doing.”

Fuck. I wish he didn’t have to ask me this. I feel like I’m the only person keeping shit together in my family. My mom and sister are barely holding it together, and while my sister’s doing better than my mom, it doesn’t mean she isn’t freaking out too. Jada just has her own way of keeping things to herself when she’s upset.

“He got another infection from the grafting. The doctors keep saying it’s very rare, how it doesn’t happen to many people, but it is possible for it to happen.”

Blackjack was a medic back in the Army over a decade ago. He’s familiar with a lot of medical shit, so I don’t have to explain myself. “I’m sorry, brother. How’s your mom and sister holding up?”

Now I’m the one shrugging. It’s like I don’t know what to say anymore, but what else can I say? The situation sucks and I have no control over this shit. Not one ounce of it. If I did, I’d trade spots with my dad in no time.

“They’re doing the best they can, given the circumstances.”

“I’m sure. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you let me or Zane know. We’ll do whatever we can to make sure you and your family are taken care of.”

Since he’s bringing it up,

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