“Kane leaves me quite deliciously sore,” Anjalee puts in, then rests a comforting hand on my other leg. “If your Chance is so very well endowed in the manly department, you must be quite sore indeed, after three days alone in Hawaii with him.”
I laugh but don’t otherwise answer. There’s a bit of silence then. Strangely, it’s companionable, not awkward or strained.
“I think I’m going to like it here,” I say. “I haven’t had any real friends in a long time.”
“No?” Myka says, the larger question in her voice.
I nod, shrug. “Yeah, I sort of alienated everyone in my life. That’s what Chance and I were doing—he was helping me make amends with people.”
“Did you?” Anjalee asks.
I nod. “Yeah, I did. It was…so intensely cathartic. Like, the process of apologizing and admitting my faults and all that to all the people I screwed over and pissed off really helped me forgive myself and move on. I think I can actually have a relationship with my family again, and with Kelly. They all live over on the West Coast and I’ll be here, but…there’s the opening, now, where there wasn’t before.” I look at Myka, and then Anjalee. “I’m just thankful that you guys seem so welcoming, I guess.”
Myka clinks her glass against mine. “This place, the people here? We’re sort of becoming a family.” She glances at me. “Has Chance explained anything about this place? What it is?”
I shrug. “Not really.” I finish my wine, and Anjalee pours more, finishing the bottle between the three of us. “He showed me a tattoo over a brand and told me he’d taken an oath not to kill anyone ever again, as part of his ‘terms and conditions,’” I put air quotes around the phrase, “of living here, what he called the Broken Arrow compound.”
Myka nods, sips. “Yeah. So, all the guys who live here—Rev, Chance, Kane, Solomon, Silas, Saxon, and Lash—are guys who’ve been through hell and back, and for various reasons cannot or will not return to normal, everyday civilian society. I only really know the stories behind why Rev, obviously, and Chance and Kane are here. The others are still sort of a mystery. I know some of the basic outlines because of that fun little sharing circle we had, but the brothers are not very social or forthcoming, and Lash is…well, he’s a total enigma. Even what he shared didn’t shed much light on who he is.” She sips again, considering. “They’re all outcasts, sort of. Products of violence and trauma and the worst the world has to offer. This place is sort of their haven. The owner, whom no one but Inez has ever even seen, rescued them each from their individual situations, brought them here, gave them employment and a home where they’re safe, and a group of like-minded men who understand them, and will not judge, no matter what horrors lie in their pasts.”
“And how did you and Anjalee end up here?” I ask.
We swap stories then—over another bottle of wine. I learn about Myka being kidnapped by Rev’s enemies and her subsequent rescue, and how Kane helped Anjalee confront and escape her controlling parents, and then how she helped him face his past and find forgiveness from the man who raised him, after Kane got his daughter killed in a drunk driving accident. I give them the story of my volleyball career, the accident and my injury, addiction, recovery, my debt to Alvin, the whole thing.
It feels good to talk about it. They don’t look at me like I’m a freak, or an abomination. There’s no pity, no judgment. Just acceptance. Understanding. In a couple hours of conversation and sharing, I feel almost as close to Myka and Anjalee as I have anyone else—they have their own traumas, and they get me. We’re all here together, in this exclusive club of fucked-up people.
Family. Not by blood, but of choice. I choose Chance, and these people are choosing me as well. No secrets, nothing harbored or hidden. It’s all out there, good or bad.
By the time we’ve finished our various stories, I’ve been awake for more than twenty-four hours. But…I’m happy. Content. Ready to start this next phase of my life—with Chance, and with this ragtag bunch of misfits and fuckups and addicts and men stained by blood and violence, and the women who love them.
I’m home.
Epilogue: A Wounded Bird
Silas
It’s been a quiet couple of months. The compound beneath Club Sin is a hell of a lot louder and more active than ever, with the addition of Annika to our group. The three women are thick as thieves, always huddling together and cackling and talking, glancing at their men with those secret, sweet smiles. Chance is pretty much the same after his little trip with Annika, except he smiles more, laughs more…and he and Annika actually leave the compound together for dates and adventures.
Bully for him.
And Rev.
And Kane.
I always assumed “happily ever after” was fairy tale bullshit, but I guess for some lucky motherfuckers, it can be real.
Just not me.
I see Sax and Sol watching the three couples, and I see the jealousy. I see it. They want that shit, too.
Not me.
No fuckin’ way. Some needy bitch clinging to me, needing me, riding my jock about leaving the toilet seat up and all that shit.
No.
I visit the girls in Hel when my physical needs get to the point I can’t ignore them and my own stupid hand isn’t doing the job anymore. Mostly, Lydia. She’s hot as fuck, with that bottle-red hair and those big pale tits, and that mouth like a fucking vacuum. She doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t try to sweet talk me, doesn’t share her own shit, and doesn’t pretend like it’s anything other than what it is between us—me paying her to scratch the itch.
Speaking of whom, I haven’t been to see her in a few weeks—since Chance and Annika got back. The club’s been busier than ever, and I don’t like to make a regular habit of it. I pay her, of course—top dollar, even though she offered me a lower rate due to my status as a Broken Arrow. Nah, I’m not taking advantage like that. But, I’m feeling the need.
