Page 20 of Manic

But everything feels off-kilter like I'm seeing it all through a distorted lens.

Kraken catches my eye from across the room, his brow furrowing as he takes in my uncharacteristic silence.

He makes his way over, concern etched on his face.

"Hey, brother," he says, clapping me on the shoulder. "You're awful quiet. What's goin' on? Ain't like you to miss out on the action."

I meet his gaze, feeling the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. "Well, Meghan's back in town," I say, my voice low and tense, "and she's got a teenage daughter that looks an awful lot like me."

Kraken's eyes widen, and then he lets out a bark of laughter that grates on my already frayed nerves.

Before I can respond, Lexi saunters over, her hips swaying with each step.

Her blonde hair catches the light, but her brown eyes are sharp with curiosity and something else—jealousy, maybe?

Her voice drips with disdain. "Who the hell is Meghan?"

I turn to face her, irritation rising in my chest. "Meghan was my old flame," I say, my tone clipped. "She left ten years before you even came to be part of the club."

Lexi's lips curl into a smirk. "Sounds like she’s ancient history to me," she says, her voice sickly sweet. "You shouldn't be wasting your time thinking about her, Tor. There are plenty of... current options available."

Her words, meant to be seductive, only serve to piss me off further.

I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to lash out.

Who the hell does she think she is?

"You don't know shit about it, Lexi," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "So why don't you keep your opinions to your fucking self?"

As Lexi's eyes narrow, I feel the tension in the room ratchet up a notch.

But I can't bring myself to care.

All I can think about is Meghan, Tindra, and the possibility that's been haunting me since I left that coffee shop.

Shecouldbe my daughter.

Fern's voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "Lexi, shut the fuck up before you get yourself into even more trouble." Her tone is sharp, brooking no argument.

Lexi's face contorts into a pout, but she knows better than to challenge the President's old lady.

With a huff, she turns on her heel and struts away, her hips swaying exaggeratedly.

I watch her go, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering frustration.

The clubhouse suddenly feels too small, too crowded.

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly.

"You good?" Fern asks, her voice softer now, concern evident in her eyes.

I meet her gaze, considering my words carefully.

The weight of everything—Meghan's return, Tindra's existence, the possibilities—it all presses down on me. "There's a lot of shit on my mind right now," I admit, my voice low.

As the words leave my mouth, I realize just how true they are.

My thoughts are a tangled mess of past and present, of what-ifs and maybes.

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