Page 25 of Gunner
Chapter 11
Kade
When the hospital releasedme two weeks ago, I wasn’t sure what my next step would be, and when I walked outside, I was shocked to see Bullet and Smokey waiting for me, with my bike polished and inviting next to him. The three of us rode back together from Arizona to Tennessee, and with every mile that passed, I felt my resolve to make things right with Sadie strengthen.
Watching her drive away from me after it took me three days to finally talk to her, was harder than I thought it would be. I didn’t expect her immediate forgiveness but holding the still sealed letter to her in my hand devastated me. Bullet assured me he gave it to her the day after I left, and I thought she would have read it by now.
I climbed onto my bike and took one last look at the peaceful lake before cranking the loud machine and pulling away. It didn’t take me long to see Sadie’s car up ahead, and I stayed back far enough so she wouldn’t see me as I followed her the entire way back to Portstill. She looked amazing, healthy, and happy, and I worried my return would derail her new life.
Yesterday, I returned to the clubhouse for the first time since leaving and was greeted with warm hugs, pats on the backs, and most of the members telling me how proud they were of me. It was humbling to see the group of tough-as-nails bikers celebrating my mental health and wellbeing. They fired up the grills, and as I looked around, I realized most, if not all of them, had non-alcoholic beverages in their hands.
I was speaking to Claw, the brother who owned the club’s construction business, about making some additions to my cabin, when most of the conversations around us halted suddenly. I turned to see Skid standing on the other side of the room, his rage directed at me. His nostrils flared, his lips were pursed under his black beard, and when he started walking toward me, the group of brothers separated, leaving him a clear path to me.
I handed Claw my soda and pivoted, ready to accept whatever he dealt out. I wouldn’t hurt my brother, but I deserved his anger at how I treated his sister. He stepped in front of me and clenched his fist at his side. I met his eyes, and just before I went to speak, his fist flew through the air and connected with my jaw in a sickening thud.
My head snapped to the side, and I brought my hand up to my face briefly before turning back to him. He raised his eyebrows, and I shrugged, letting him know I wasn’t backing down, and he shook his head before pulling me into a hug with a resounding slap on the back.
The hounds cheered as Smokey spoke loudly to the group. “We’re all happy Gunner’s back and got the help he needed. I’ve spoken with you all, but I’ll say it one more time. When one brother is suffering, we’re all suffering. Don’t be embarrassed to ask for help. We all have issues that led us here, and here, we are a family.”
The group’s volume rose, and he shouted, “Death Hounds,” and the group yelled in return, “For Life.”
With that, the party resumed, and a few of the club ladies showed up to join their men. I looked around and realized most of the sluts weren’t around, and I turned to Skid and Claw. “Where’s everyone else?”
I didn’t want it to seem I was looking for the sluts, because they were the farthest thing from my mind, but the party was much tamer than the ones I remember. Or maybe I was just so drunk that this was normal.
“Piper and Lilly kicked the sluts out last year. If you want some company, you have to drive to the Dog House. No more sluts at the party.”
The Dog House was the club bar a half a mile up the road into Portstill, and I whistled out loud as Claw leaned closer. “None of us mind, really. Less drama around the clubhouse is good for the club.”
“Really?” I asked, shocked.
“Yep. No one wants a doorknob, and most of the bullshit around here was from them. Open parties are still wild, but the day-to-day happenings around here are much calmer. It’s been nice. Why? Are you lonely?” Skid asked.
“Fuck no. I’ve just never been to a Death Hounds party without tits running around,” I reasoned with a shrug.
Skid looked at me with an intensity I’d never witnessed from him. He looked older, wiser, and more settled than when I left a year ago, and as Claw left to get some food, I leaned over and whispered, “Can we talk somewhere quiet?”
He nodded, and I followed him into the clubhouse. A few of the brothers gave me a chin lift as I walked away from the party, and I caught Smokey’s gaze before I walked inside. He raised his eyebrows, and I lifted one cheek in a quasi-smile. Skid found an isolated corner of the room, and we settled into the chairs tucked against the wall.
“So, you were in therapy for the last year?”
“I needed to sort some shit out, and it was the best place for me,” I replied and picked at the label of my empty soda bottle.
“And you had to drive a knife in my sister’s heart before you left? Making her feel inadequate and flawed. What the fuck, man?” he asked and leaned back, crossing his inked arms over his chest.
“I never meant to hurt Sadie or you. It was a defense mechanism I didn’t realize I had until it was too late,” I explained, and he looked at me like I was crazy. I sighed and continued, “I never dealt with what happened in Iraq, and after getting my PTSD under control with medication, the therapist started asking questions about my childhood. What drove me to enlist, how I ended up with the club. I never realized my mom splitting when I was a kid affected me so deeply, but couple that with everything else I suppressed, and my mind created a way to protect myself. And that hurt Sadie. I never intended for it to happen, but it did, and I can only ask for forgiveness.”
