“That was exhilarating. Gray, may I ask a personal question?” Laurent twisted his body toward Gray as Elliot resumed the drive at breakneck speed, and Gray wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to leave Laurent behind the wheel after all. Elliot had experience, but also only one eye and a death wish. Gray needed to talk to Baal and find out what was expected of him this upcoming night, but that would not happen if he returned to the hospital following a car accident.
“Sure,” Gray said nevertheless, even though his muscles slowly but surely calcified when the car approached a familiar-looking tree right next to an old bridge made of stone. The roots that had penetrated the ground under the asphalt and broken through were now marked with fluorescent paint so that no one else would meet the same fate Mike had over two years ago.
Elliot and Laurent likely paid no attention to the cross standing next to the tree, or the wilted flowers laid beneath it. Rev and the others did know it was here, and even though they’d had so much shit to deal since the explosions at the clubhouse, he was still angry that no one had taken care of the site in his absence. He would have to come over tomorrow.
Tonight, there was no time for sentiments.
Laurent turned Gray`s attention back to the inside of the cab, and he was glad for it, because the two-second drive across the narrow bridge had Gray’s fingers stiff and cold. “Will you still be able to ride your motorcycle? I know it survived the blast in the garage. I heard Rev say something about customizing it for you.”
Gray’s mouth went dry as if he’d just eaten a bowl of woodchips. The space where his arm used to be itched under the bandage, as if only to remind him that life would never be the same.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I’m sure there are ways.” But it would take a while for him to figure them out.
Laurent sighed. “Oh, good. I know how all of you love your motorcycles. I would have hated it if you had to give it up.”
He wasn’t helping. The itch in the stump became stronger, and Gray had to fight for each breath. Discreetly, so as not to scare his chauffeurs.
“It’s fine. Everyone is alive. That’s what counts,” Gray said, relieved when they left the main road and entered club grounds. The trees surrounding the narrow driveway on both sides gave Gray a sense of peace. This was home, and soon enough he would be able to excuse himself with tiredness and get a few precious moments of peace in his apartment. He just needed to survive the next hour, make his brothers happy enough to let him go for the night.
His heart sank when he spotted a gathering on the lawn in front of the Georgian facade that remembered Laurent’s former life in 1805. The long, somewhat crude wings—a late nineteenth century addition from the time when the building had become a mental hospital—disappeared in the light fog, creating an eerie atmosphere, despite the little party outside.
Gathered around a large barbeque, his brothers and a select few friends awaited him with food. Jake was already there, next to Beast and Rev, and he waved at them with a big smile. The Eastern wing of the clubhouse was visible as well, and Gray scowled when he spotted evident damage in the form of blackened walls, glassless windows, and metal frames supporting the old walls. The garage had been most affected, and a part of its wall had disintegrated, leaving behind a huge pile of brick and cement. Someone had been working on rebuilding, but the task was far from over.
“Just don’t tell anyone about the driving, please,” Laurent whispered, as if Beast were able to hear them already.
Gray hadn’t yet decided what to do, because the last thing Beast needed now was a husband in hospital. Fortunately, the car stopped before he was asked that same request once more.
He was happy to see that there were no copious amounts of people, nor balloons, or any other welcome-back paraphernalia. He was content with steaks and burgers, even though he wasn’t sure whether his brothers decided to pass on a party because they knew he wasn’t too fond of them, or because no one had the time or strength to go all out after so much construction work done on top of their usual duties.
Jake opened the door for Gray, which was a nice gesture, but Gray couldn’t help feeling like it only made everyone focus on his stump more. He wished he were invisible and could remain unnoticed—see that everyone was okay yet avoid the pitiful glances and gestures of kindness.