Page 32 of Hatter

My heart stuttered in my chest, but I managed a nod. “Yeah, Hatter. I’m good.”

“All right,” he said, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he returned to the task at hand.

I went back to work, my hands steady and my mind clear. It was going to take time to rebuild, both the clubhouse and myself. But with Hatter and the Underland MC by my side, maybe -- just maybe -- we could make something beautiful out of the chaos.

As I lifted a heavy piece of debris, my muscles strained with the effort. This place still looked like a war zone. I’d never seen anything like it. But there was no time for gawking, not with everyone busting their asses to get things back in order.

March had brought in new windows, and someone else had picked up furniture and other necessities we’d need to replace. I couldn’t ignore the dark stains on the paneled walls, and no one else could either. Which is why Absolem had ordered sealer and paint, and two of Shake’s men had offered to pick it up.

“Jo,” Hatter called from across the room, his voice steady and commanding. “You’re doing a hell of a job.”

I glanced up, meeting his gaze as he offered me a genuine smile. The warmth in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. “Thanks, Hatter,” I replied, swallowing hard. “Just trying to help.”

“Keep it up,” he encouraged, before turning his attention back to the others.

“Look at you, Miss Clean Queen,” Cheshire drawled as he sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who knew you had such hidden talents?”

“Very funny,” I retorted, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You’re saving our asses here. Besides, your cleaning skills are almost as good as my fighting skills.”

“Almost?” I shot back, feigning offense. “Gee, thanks.”

“All right,” Cheshire chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’ll admit, you’re pretty damn good.”

“Better be careful, Cheshire,” I warned playfully, swiping a dirty rag at him. “Or I might just clean your clock next.”

“Promises, promises,” he teased, dodging my swipe with a grin. But then his expression turned serious, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for helping out. We appreciate it more than you know.”

“Anytime,” I replied, my heart swelling with a sense of belonging I hadn’t felt in years. “I’m here to stay.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes sincere. “We’re glad to have you.”

With that, Cheshire walked away, and I turned back to the task at hand. No time for sentimentality, not when there was so much work to be done. But as I bent down to pick up another piece of debris, I couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through me, fueled by the camaraderie and acceptance I’d found in this ragtag group of bikers.

Carpenter started to pass by me and stopped. I glanced up, waiting for him to say something, but he only stared for a moment. It seemed as if he was fighting an internal battle. One he apparently lost since he walked off without saying a word. I’d learned each man here had been damaged by their years in service. Some in bigger ways than others. I’d give Carpenter his space and let him approach me on his own terms, like he did just now. I wouldn’t push and force him to talk to me. He didn’t appear to be as easy-going as many of the others. Of course, no one here was anything like Cheshire. That man was something else.

Yeah, I’d definitely found a special place when I’d made the decision to step out into the road that night. Asking the Underland MC for help had been my best idea ever. And if Hatter’s lingering gaze from across the room was any indication, maybe I’d found something more than just a place to belong. Maybe I’d found someone who saw me for who I really was -- broken and bruised, but still fighting like hell. And damn it, I wasn’t going to let that go without a fight.

The day dragged on. I’d managed to clean up the kitchen, since one of Eddie’s men had busted out the window and snuck in that way. Afterward, I’d made sandwiches for everyone. A mix of cold and hot ones. It wasn’t the greatest lunch ever, but they seemed appreciative.

Now that we’d eaten, it was time to get back to work. Blood-spattered walls mocked me. Even though we’d scrubbed them already, a lot of the blood had soaked in and left stains. Hatter’s smile lingered in my mind, but the broken clubhouse demanded focus. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. I wouldn’t let this place crumble.

“Jo,” March’s voice barked behind me, stern like a drill sergeant. “Need your help.”

“What is it?” I asked, steeling myself for whatever he’d cooked up.

“Painting,” he replied, nodding toward a wall marred with bullet holes. “I’ll patch them, then I need you to cover that shit up.”

“Got it.” I grabbed a roller and paint can, determination fueling me. I started on the walls he’d already patched.

“Thanks,” March said, his blue eyes softening for a moment before he moved on to other tasks.

I rolled paint onto the wall, each stroke erasing a piece of the pain we’d suffered yesterday.

“Jo,” Rabbit’s anxious voice piped up, breaking my concentration. “You need more paint? Another roller?”

“Rabbit, relax,” I muttered, not looking away from the wall. “I’m good.”

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