Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(69)

Okay.

This was all right.

I was expecting this, though not for a while.

I thought it was too early. I’d like Jag to wait until his brother was a full member. Until after he’d finished school, which would be at the end of May. And then even later.

He wasn’t even legal to drink.

Of course, his birthday was next month (he still wouldn’t be legal to drink), his brother’s birthday came two days after Jag graduated.

Still.

I looked to Jag. “Might be hard to recruit and go to school, Jagger.”

“Hound knows that and the brothers know it too. Hound told me it might take longer that way to earn my patch. But they’ll give me space to get my degree and I’ll still be on the road to the patch,” Jagger replied.

He’d thought it through. Discussed it with Hound.

I should have realized with how close my boys were with Hound that I couldn’t exactly erase him from my life. He would steer clear. I would steer clear. We’d have the bond of Chaos and have to deal, especially when the boys patched in and I was again sucked deeper into Chaos in the way that would pull me in, which wouldn’t be that bad. It wasn’t like I was an old lady and expected to show at events or sit on the back of a bike during a ride.

So it was then I realized I’d never be fully quit of Hound, and not because of history old and new, and memories old and new.

But because of my boys who he’d never let go and I wouldn’t want him to, but even if for some insane reason I did, they’d never let him go either.

“If you have it worked out, it’s your decision, your life, but like your brother, you have my support,” I told Jag.

This brought to mind that, years ago, when Dutch first started talking to me about it seriously, I hadn’t wanted him to put himself forward to join Chaos.

Hound, of course, had set me straight about that.

In thinking about it the past few days (and months but the last few days especially), I’d realized that was when I’d started to fall in love with him at the same time realizing (finally) he was already gone for me.

He hadn’t treated me like porcelain.

He’d laid it out like I was the biker bitch, old lady I damned well was. Like I could take it. Like I had to do what he’d told me to do. Get my head out of my ass and restart my life because I’d let my grief get out of hand.

It hadn’t felt good at the time, but in the end, I appreciated it.

I’d also gone out and got myself a short-term man.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t gotten laid since Graham died. It had taken years but I found one-night stands to deal with the basic needs. It was rare and I went far afield to sort that shit for myself.

But I hadn’t found someone that I went back to even twice, much less was with for a few months.

That man didn’t last. He wasn’t Black. He wasn’t even a biker.

But mostly, even though I didn’t realize it at the time, he wasn’t Hound.

In the end, after Hound had laid it out for me and I’d thought on it and realized he spoke true, I gave Dutch my support for his decision to give his life and loyalty to the brotherhood.

It was what he wanted.

It would make his father ecstatic.

And it was what Hound wanted.

Now, I’d do the same for Jag.

“Thanks, Ma,” Jagger replied.

“The Club has shit goin’ on so they’re sittin’ the table tonight and they’re gonna vote on a lot of it, including Jag. We all know that’s gonna swing Jag’s way so he’s gonna be a recruit soon,” Dutch said. “But he doesn’t have a bike and to be a recruit, he’s gonna need one.”

My gaze slid between my boys and I saw Dutch’s face was noncommittal.

I also saw Jag’s jaw get slightly hard.

Uh-oh.

They both wanted Graham’s cut.

“Jag told me about Dad’s cut and his bike and we been talkin’,” Dutch continued.

Yeah.

They both wanted their father’s cut.

“All right,” I said when he didn’t go on.

“We can’t decide.”

Shit.

I didn’t want to be in the middle of this. It was already hard enough to give up what I was giving up, even if I knew in my heart it was already theirs. I couldn’t make the decision of who got what.

“It really has to be you boys that decide,” I told Dutch.

“We can’t,” Dutch said firmly. “So we asked Hound to come over and help us make the decision.”

What?

Shit.

No.

Fuck!

No!

“He’s gonna be here in a few,” Jagger put in.

Shit!

No!

I hid all this from my sons. I had no choice.

And I wondered what Hound was thinking.

He had to know the meet wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t here. If they wanted to talk just to him, they’d meet at the Compound or at Hound’s or at Dutch’s.

A swift wave of hope washed through me that maybe, since some time had passed since Jean died, he’d seen the error of his ways with how he’d touched me, what he’d said to me, and he was using this as his in.

I rode that wave and let it crash me to the shore, because the way he was, what he thought, I found it very doubtful he’d reflect on that and come to the correct conclusions.