Page 32 of Healed

“I’m glad you’re back, brother. But, as payback for doing something so utterly stupid, we’ve given everyone permission to throw darts at your ass. Best hope none hit you from now until the time it takes me to reach your bedroom.”

And with that they were off, dodging flying darts, hurled tennis balls, and whatever else the club could get their hands on at a moment’s notice.

And then I was alone.

I looked around at the familiar place—the clubhouse I’d once danced in, the courtyard I’d once snuck through, and let the memories wash over me.

I was slightly annoyed I’d been left to my own devices. But that was the way this place worked. Everyone knew their role. They knew they belonged. They didn’t wait for an invitation because they had never needed one. If they were prospecting or patched, they knew they had a family.

I, on the other hand, didn’t have the same assurance.

Behind the doors of that clubhouse was the room of the man I loved. But it also housed a president who hated my club, and by extension, me. As well as an entire club who knew what I had done—some had even been witnesses to it.

“Oi, new girl,” a voice called. I turned in the direction of the noise to see Rachel leaning against the doorframe. “You coming?” she asked, but she was already walking over to me.

“I just…”

“Needed a minute?” she asked, hopping onto the bonnet of the car.

“Yeah.”

She was silent a moment. She plucked a thread from her jeans and then leaned back on the bonnet, her weight on her hands as she tipped her head back and looked up at the sky. “I’ve been in your shoes, you know.”

I looked at her with a frown and scoffed.

“It’s true,” she laughed. “I don’t know how much you know about Dante and me—”

“The bare minimum,” I interrupted.

“Well, let’s just say it hasn’t always been sunshine and roses. I’ve been dragged through these doors after being kidnapped. Dragged back through these doors after running away. Dragged back through after running away a second time—although that time I took Dante’s son with me. A son he knew nothing about. Yeah…” she breathed, lowering her head and taking in my horrified expression. “I’m no prize, Gabby. But I do know what it feels like to walk into the lion’s den knowing they all want to maul you.”

“And what if I want to maul them in return?”

Rachel laughed again. “Good. They deserve it every now and then. I’ve given as good as I’ve got. Don’t let them bring you down. Because they will try. Their loyalty to their brother won’t let them do anything else. But if you’ve got fight, you’ll be okay.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” she frowned.

“Will your loyalty to Vienna not have you acting the same way?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know the full story, so I’m in no position to take sides. Do I like seeing my hair buddy so hurt? Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t hurt just as much.”

“And you caused a large portion of that hurt,” I reminded her.

She blanched for a second. “True. I killed your brother. Dante killed your dad. There’s a lot of bad blood between us.”

She hopped down from the car.

“But like it or not, Gabby, this is the only home you have for now. You make peace with it the best you can and make friends, or you go it alone. Your choice.”

With that, she wandered back into the house, leaving me alone—cursing myself for already alienating the one person who had extended friendship to me.

I pushed away from the car and followed her inside. There was no other choice.

Walking through the clubhouse was both unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. Strange and yet comforting.

This wasn’t exactly the same place. The old clubhouse had been ruined in an arson attack by Macbeth a few years back. This was the new and improved version, owned by Dante and not his dad and grandad.