Page 18 of Reclaiming Venom

Ridley’s laughter, bright and clear, pierced through the fog of my thoughts, yanking me back to the present. Her eyes, sparkling with mischief, held me captive as she leaned in close, her breath like a warm summer breeze against my ear.

“You’re looking like you’re trying to solve world hunger, old man,” she teased, her fingers trailing playfully down my arm. “Relax those eyebrows before you scare off all the Prospects.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, the tension in my shoulders easing with each playful stroke of her fingers. “Old man, huh? I’ll show you old later, darlin’.”

Ridley’s cheeks flushed, her grin widening. “Promises, promises,” she purred, loud enough for the nearby members to hear.

The response was immediate -- a chorus of good-natured whistles and catcalls erupted around us. A surge of possessive pride filled me as I wrapped an arm around Ridley’s waist, pulling her close. Her presence was a grounding force, a steady anchor in the sea of uncertainty that was my life.

“Venom! Get your ass over here!”

The gruff voice belonged to Tank, one of my oldest friends in the club. The biker sat at a corner table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey his only companion.

“Go on,” Ridley urged, giving me a gentle push. “I’ll mingle a bit. Come find me when you’re done catching up.”

I made my way to Tank’s table, sinking into the chair opposite my old friend. His face was more lined than I remembered, his beard also going gray like mine.

“Christ, you look like shit.” Tank grinned, pouring a generous measure of whiskey for me.

“Speak for yourself, you old bastard,” I retorted, raising the glass in a mock toast before taking a sip.

“Since you’re missing your memories, how about I catch you up on few things?” Tank asked.

I nodded and he launched into one tale after another. A conflicting mix of emotions washed over me. But as I glanced across the room, I saw Ridley chatting with the other old ladies. It still blew my mind so many of us had settled down. I caught Ridley’s eye and I felt a different kind of pull. The life I’d left behind called to me, but so did the future I was building with Ridley.

I turned back to Tank, forcing a smile. I raised my glass. “To the Dixie Reapers.”

After our toast, I got up and wandered through the crowd again, finding a spot at the bar.

The laughter and clink of bottles, once jarring, now washed over me like a comforting wave. Leaning against the bar, my hands clasped around a cold beer, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease.

Torch was only a few spots away, and he started regaling me with funny things I’d missed -- or rather, couldn’t remember.

“So there I was, ass-deep in mud, bike sputtering like a dying cat,” Torch exclaimed, gesticulating with his usual flair. A chuckle escaped my lips, rusty but genuine.

“Let me guess,” I surprised myself by saying, “You tried that shortcut through Miller’s Creek again?”

Torch’s eyes widened with delight. “Hell yeah, brother! How’d you know?”

I shrugged, a half-smile tugging at my lips. “Some things never change. I learned that lesson the hard way back in ‘89.”

The group erupted in laughter, and a warm glow of belonging spread through my chest. Across the room, I caught Ridley’s eye, her smile igniting a different kind of heat within me.

As the night unfolded, old memories bubbled to the surface, flowing effortlessly in the rhythm of conversation. The camaraderie I’d once taken for granted now felt like a precious gift, one I was determined to savor. I’d nearly lost all this. Even though I might not remember the last thirty plus years, at least I was here. Alive. They’d said I’d died twice. If things had gone down differently, I could be six feet under right now.

Later, Ridley tugged on my arm, leading me to a quiet corner of the clubhouse. The party’s muffled sounds faded as she leaned in.

“You’re doing great, you know,” she murmured “They’ve missed you. We all have.”

I exhaled slowly, my fingers tracing the curve of her hip. “It’s different,” I admitted. “I feel like I’m trying to wear an old skin that doesn’t quite fit anymore.”

Ridley cupped my face, her touch soft yet firm. “You’re still you, Venom. Fierce protector, loyal brother -- that hasn’t changed. The rest? We’ll figure it out together.”

Her words were a balm, soothing the raw edges of my uncertainty. I pulled her close, burying my face in her hair, letting her unwavering faith anchor me.

“One last look,” I murmured, letting my gaze linger on the weathered wood of the clubhouse walls, the worn leather of the bar stools, the faded photographs of past members that lined the walls. It was a scene etched into my memory, a haven I’d feared lost forever. Things had changed, yet a lot still remained the same.

The familiar sounds of the clubhouse -- the laughter, the clinking glasses, the murmurs of conversation -- washed over me, a comforting symphony that resonated deep within my bones. It was the music of belonging, a melody I’d worried would be gone forever.

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