Page 63 of Unhinged
“Tell her I miss her and hope she comes home soon.”
I smirk, trying to brush it off, but I can feel the tension creeping up my spine. "How about I do you one better? Come see them yourself."
Back at the clubhouse, Brydgett’s shock is evident the second she sees Georgia trailing behind me. Her expression tightens, and her hands fly straight to her hips, like she’s bracing herselffor some kind of storm. The words spill out of her mouth before she can think better of it.
“How the hell did you know about her?” Brydgett’s eyes flicker with that sharp, protective edge I know so well. She’s already ready to go to war if she has to. It’s almost funny to see her this worked up when she knows I’ve got her back.
I take my sweet time setting Judge’s bags down by the door, letting her stew in the tension for a moment. “Went by your apartment. She demanded an update. Figured I’d give her more than that.”
Georgia beams like she’s won a prize, already pulling Brydgett into a tight hug before she can protest. I watch as Brydgett flinches, her entire body tensing at the unexpected contact. There’s a visible wince on her face like she’s bracing for pain.
Georgia, ever the perceptive one, quickly releases her, stepping back just enough to give Brydgett space. But before Brydgett can gather herself, Georgia grabs at her shirt, pulling it up without warning to reveal the healing wound still wrapped in bandages.
“What the hell happened?” Georgia demands.
Brydgett flinches again but doesn’t pull away. “I got shot,” she mutters.
Georgia whirls around to me, eyes wide and full of accusation.
I immediately throw my hands up in surrender, the image of Georgia’s fury almost comical. “Not us. We saved her and brought her here,” I reply, trying to calm the storm brewing in her gaze.
Georgia doesn’t even seem to hear me, her attention snapping back to Brydgett, who’s standing a little too still, her posture a little too stiff. “Girl…” Georgia starts, but hervoice softens when she sees Brydgett’s quiet determination to downplay it.
“I’m fine,” Brydgett says quickly. “Ike fixed me up. It’ll heal.”
Georgia watches her for a moment, her brow furrowed, before she nods slowly, seeming to accept Brydgett’s reassurance, even if she’s not entirely convinced. “Alright,” she mutters, though it’s clear the concern still lingers in her eyes. “But you’re gonna need to rest and take it easy.”
Brydgett just nods, though I can see the way her shoulders lower just a little, the weight of the situation slowly sinking in. I’m not sure if it’s relief or just exhaustion, but it’s there—the strain she’s been carrying around since we brought her in.
Georgia’s smile is warm, but Brydgett’s still eyeing me like I’ve done something wrong, like I’m some kind of idiot for bringing the “old broad” into her world.
“And that crazy homeless guy in the alley?” I add, arching a brow as I lean against the wall, watching their exchange. “Not as off-kilter as he seemed, huh? He was covering for you.”
Brydgett stiffens, the protective edge hardening again. I can almost feel the low growl forming in her chest. “He’s a friend,” she snaps. “Don’t you dare harm him.”
I chuckle, leaning back casually. “Wouldn’t dream of it, babe.” But the truth is, I get it. I don’t know what’s made Brydgett so damn protective of the guy, but there’s something there, something I’m not pushing her on. Not yet.
I’m still watching her, but I feel the shift in the room—Georgia’s laugh, light and easy, filling the space. It’s clear she’s not holding anything against me for showing up at her door.
Gears walks into the main part of the clubhouse and stands near the bar, watching us with narrowed eyes, his gaze flicking over to me. He’s not happy I brought Georgia here. I can see it in the way his jaw tenses, the way his arms cross as if trying to shield the clubhouse from something that doesn’t belong.
I don’t care. This was worth it. Worth seeing Brydgett smile in a way I haven’t seen in days. That’s what matters right now. That’s what I’m focusing on. Even if Gears doesn’t get it.
“You did good,” Acid murmurs as he sneaks up behind me. I didn’t even hear him coming—he’s good at that.
“I know,” I reply, though I can’t stop the little flicker of satisfaction that runs through me for pleasing my omega.
“We should talk to her about her heat,” Acid mutters, but there’s no hiding the concern that laces it. “None of us have gotten her blockers, have we?”
“Nope,” I whisper.
He nods. “She’ll need a nest. Someone to watch the kid. She’ll need help.”
I can’t shake the feeling of responsibility that’s suddenly weighing on me. It’s not just about protecting her anymore—it’s about making sure she has everything she needs to feel safe, to feel secure. That includes the kid.
I glance at Acid, who’s subtly adjusting himself, the unspoken understanding between us clear. “We’ll offer her a spot for a nest,” he suggests. “Tell her Dillon and Bettie can watch Judge while she rests, but we’ll offer toys so she doesn’t think we’re pushing. We’re not trying to force her into anything.”
I raise a brow, my lips curving into a small smile. “Good idea. Let’s just hope my knucklehead brother doesn’t get mouthy,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head slightly. I know how he is, how stubborn he can be. And the last thing we need is a scene when we’re trying to take care of Brydgett.
