Page 90 of When It Reins
It is an unspoken rule, but a rule nonetheless. Though given how much the club has helped my family in the last few years, those rules are quickly becoming more and more blurred.
We ride loudly through our town and into Acton, staying on the outskirts of it and heading up through the winding roads of the mountains, getting to Three Rivers way quicker than we normally would.
I ride to the house, knowing the loud engine of my bike might spook whoever is in the rodeo arena and not wanting that on my conscience, along with everything else.
CT steps out of the barn, his hat blocking his face enough that I can’t tell his expression, but I march over to him.
“What’s going on?” CT holds out his hand for me to shake, then does the same for Mick when he shows up right next to me.
“I think Aaron is going to strike here next.”
“Aaron?” CT questions, and it nearly makes me growl in frustration. Why did that fucker have to make this so damn complicated?
42
juniper
Wild wasa tame way to describe getting three toddlers together in one room. Mitch’s entire family and my sisters gathered at Logan’s house, coming together in a time when no one quite knew where to be, where was safe to be, and didn’t want to let their loved ones out of sight.
Some members are missing, including Jax and Stetson, but Logan stayed. I find that interesting, wondering if he is feeling left out with his brothers at the ranch, ready to grab Aaron when he strikes.
I watch my family laugh and chat, make food, and take care of the babies running around the room. It is hard to believe that these kids were just tiny little infants only a year ago, and now they are making their places in the world known.
Loudly.
I flinch as they knock over a tower Logan was building with them and laugh when Lawson, Felicity and Jax’s son, claps and giggles.
Sitting on the couch, my hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, courtesy of Lue, I try to block my mind from the worry that keeps seeping in.
I hate that Mitch is out there. I hate that he’s feeling compelled to take care of this himself.
I understand why, but I hate it all the same.
Mitch is a compulsive protector. That is the job he took for himself, and he takes it seriously, whether everyone around him knows it or not. He is the guy that is going to take care of everyone else.
I both admire and hate that about him. Admire because how could I not? He is a man of honor, of loyalty. One who will do anything he can for his loved ones without taking a second to think about what sacrifices he is making for himself.
Hate because…what happens if one of these daring protective details goes wrong? What happens if Aaron gets the jump on him and he doesn’t come home? What happens if he goes on one of his runs for his club and something bad happens?
It is maybe selfish of me, but if something happens to Mitch—after how much my feelings have grown, after all the visions of a future I’ve had and prayed and wished for—I just don’t know what I would do if something happened to him.
“I can sense the spiraling.” It takes me a second to realize that my brother-in-law is talking to me, and I blink, realizing I almost spilled my mug, and focus on the action around me again.
Felicity and Dani are talking about their babies, watching them explore the toys Logan laid out for everyone. His eyes are on Colter, but he is talking to me.
“Sorry, what?”
Logan looks over at me and says, “Mitch will be okay, Juniper.”
I would say after the last few years of Logan and Thea being together, I know the guy quite well. I know he adores my sister and the ground she walks on. I know he is a hell of a dad and would do anything for his children. I know that if his sister-in-law, a.k.a. me, had a flat tire at two in the morning after working a long shift, he would get out of bed and come rescue me.
Logan is the definition of a good guy, but he is also much more perceptive than I give him credit for.
“What do I do if he’s not?” The words fall out of my mouth before I realize they’re even going to, and I sigh, shaking my head at the vulnerable sound in my voice.
“You can’t think that way,” Logan says, glancing at his son again, keeping that protective gaze on him. “If you think that way, you’re going to drive yourself crazy.”
I bite my lip, my emotions threatening to overcome me again. Since the fire, I’ve been known to cry at the drop of a hat. I am overwhelmed by life, and I’m not sure how to stop feeling that way.
