Maybe they’re starting to trust me again. Maybe I just need to stop thinking about it so fucking much.
I still don’t know what is going to happen to me, to Pamela and with our future. If they vote against paying me, against giving me extra duties, then I’m fucked. I can’t leave Pammy, can’t pretend that she ain’t mine. Even if she’s not officially my Old Lady as far as the club is concerned, she’s still my woman. It’s my duty to take care of her.
“Church will be in session tomorrow,” Silver announces.
We’re only five hours away from Eagar, the trip not taking quite as long to come home as it did the way there, mainly because we’re all in a hurry to see our women. We no longer have to worry about what’s in the back of the truck, something that I didn’t realize was there and the sole reason Silver was driving slower and more careful than I’ve ever seen him before.
“Yeah,” I say, looking out the window.
I don’t know what the future will bring, especially when it comes to me and the club, then me and Pamela. What I wanted with a woman, I now have with her and I can’t even take care of her. I shouldn’t have her. I should walk away, send her away, let her leave me.
The guilt of knowing that I’ve completely ruined a woman’s life swims inside of me threatening to fill me up, but I push it down. I refuse to allow it to control me, mainly because if I do, then I won’t have her. I would send her away, I would let her leave me, but it’s just not enough to allow that.
“Stick around the clubhouse, we vote tomorrow,” he announces.
I know what he’s talking about. They vote on whether or not I get paid. On whether or not they can trust me a little more. On whether or not I’ll ever be allowed back in. It all seems really fast. I’ve only been back weeks, but this vote is going to change my future, not only with the club, but also with Pamela.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
Silver doesn’t say anything else, though I can tell that he wants to speak, but is holding back. I don’t know why he is, he knows he can say whatever the fuck he wants to me and I can’t say shit back—can’t do shit to him either.
As a prospect, I have no voice when it comes to the Savage Beasts. They all humor me, allowing me to speak when they don’t have to. Honestly, I don’t know why they do it, I wouldn’t if the tables were turned. If I hadn’t been humbled, if I hadn’t fucked up completely, I would make whoever did what I did suffer day in and day out.
The fact is, these men are just better than I am. Always have been. I’ve never really earned my patch. I’m not necessarily a nice guy. I’ve never chosen to protect others, not unless it was required by the Beasts. I’ve never actively chosen much other than drinking, getting laid, and acting like a dick.
My brothers are better men than I could ever be and I hope that I can be more like them. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but can you change? Can a person truly change if they want to? I feel like I can. I’m determined.
PAMELA
“They should be back today,” Presley announces.
She’s leaning back, sitting on the picnic table that faces the entrance gate. The kids are running around, although her oldest is thirteen and he seems more interested in his cellphone than playing with the smaller children.
All of the Old Ladies showed up, trays of food and bags of groceries in hand. Apparently, when the men come back after a long run, we party. I’m okay with that, mainly because I’m not ready to tell Dylan my news yet.
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“You’re young, you’re alone, and I’m sure you’re terrified,” she begins, not looking at me, but instead looks straight ahead.
“Yeah,” I agree, staring at her profile.
Her lips curve up into a grin and she shakes her head once before she turns to me. “You aren’t alone, Pamela. All of us have been scared at one point or another. We’ve all been scared of this life, of the future, and of the unknown. No matter what, we’ve got your back and that baby’s.”
“How did you know?” I ask.
She shrugs a shoulder, her lips firmly turned up in a smile. “Sometimes a girl just knows. Everything will work itself out, no matter what,” she says, attempting to assure me.
I open my mouth to say something, to ask her how she knows when there is the sound of a dozen rumbling bikes coming through the gate. They sound like a swarm of bees and our attention immediately switches to them.
Watching as they pull into the clubhouse, they all make a gigantic circle, a victory lap of sorts, before they pull into their parking spots. Then the truck comes up behind them. Presley is already on her feet and hurrying toward the men, but I don’t rush toward them. Instead, I sit back and I watch.
I stay back, not just because I’m unsure of how I’ll be received, but also, because it’s too much action for me. There are just too many people and when I look to the side, I notice that Gisele is doing the same on her front porch. She’s sitting in her chair, watching the action. Coyote is down there somewhere, although he didn’t leave, he’s there welcoming his brothers back.
I don’t walk over to her, even though I would like to talk to her. Instead, I watch Dylan. He climbs out of the truck. He stretches, lifting his
