“Don’t fuckin’ blame her.”
“Right. So, don’t know what to fuckin’ do about it. Need somethin’ but don’t know what.”
“Got an idea.”
Sig’s brow furrowed.
“Called a buddy, a guy I served in the Marines with. He’s a fuckin’ expert with his fists. Teaches people to fight, box, kick box, even a little bit of MMA. He’s also a fellow biker, a part of the Dirty Angels down south. He’s willin’ to come up for a few days and get the two of us squared away with that shit. Give us the outlet we both need. My breathin’ exercise only does so much. Stella ain’t around all the time where I can reach out and touch her when I need to. This would help me, too. Anyone else who wants in on it, can get in on it. Gonna set somethin’ up in one of the sheds. Turn it into a place where we all can take our fuckin’ shit out on a heavy bag or one of those life-like body punching bags. He can set us up with everythin’ we fuckin’ need. Thinkin’ we can also set somethin’ up for you to beat the fuck outta with whatever you need to use. Belt, whip, whatever. Just ain’t gonna be able to fuck it.” His lips twitched. “Unless you put a hole in it, I guess.” He snorted. “Almost like a rage room but more like a place we can punch and kick shit.”
“Think it’ll work?”
Trip shrugged. “Can’t hurt, right? Sure there’s plenty of us who’ll use it. Hey, if it fuckin’ keeps even one of us out of a concrete box, whether above ground or below it, then it’ll be worth it.”
“We got the scratch for it?”
Trip studied him for a split minute. “Yeah, gonna find it. Think this is important enough. Want you to stick, Sig. Want us all to stick. Gonna do whatever we need to do to make that happen. So far, we got the fuckin’ booze, money comin’ into our pockets, roofs over our heads, full bellies and empty nuts. This will just be one more thing to keep our brotherhood solid.” Trip sat back and crossed his thick arms over his chest, drawing Sig’s eyes to the president’s patch on his brother’s cut. “Hopin’ you stick, brother. Nothin’ I want more, ‘cept maybe Stella givin’ me sons.”
“She thinkin’ ‘bout it?”
“Yeah, she’s thinkin’ about it. Not sure she’s ready yet. Just like it’ll be a long time before Autumn’s ready. They both have good fuckin’ reasons.” Trip took an audible breath and grabbed the gavel, turning it within his fingers and studying it. “Again, want you to stick, brother, but if you don’t wanna stick... You wanna take Autumn and start elsewhere... If that’s what she wants... Gonna help you do that.”
Sig’s spine snapped straight. “How? Money’s tied up in all these businesses and shit.”
“Can sell a part of the farm to get you started elsewhere.”
“You’d give me my half?” Did Sig just hear that right?
His brother wasn’t any kind of happy about that offer, though. And he wasn’t hiding that fact. “Not sure it’ll be half but there’s a piece on the other side of the tree line a developer approached me about when I first came back to town. Said offer would remain open. Whatever he’d pay is what would go into your pocket. Set you and Autumn up so you two could start fresh.” He paused. “If that’s what you want.”
“That’s not what you want,” Sig murmured watching his brother’s face closely.
“Used to be best friends, Sig. Closer than brothers. Now we know we’re real brothers, we ain’t even friends.” Trip swallowed hard. “Miss that, brother. Want you to stay and wanna work on rebuildin’ what we had. But you gotta want it, too.”
Sig dropped his head and studied the table. The table that their father used to sit at. The table both of them had hidden under a few times. The table where they witnessed shit no boys should witness. The table that held both their past and their future.
The table that could build a strong brotherhood.
The table he might claim Red at.
If she wanted that.
If she stayed. If he stayed.
He had it good there. He probably wouldn’t have it this good anywhere else. He had brothers at his back and a woman in his bed. In truth, he wanted for nothing.
He also had more than he ever had in his whole fucking life.
But he needed to talk to Red. See where her head was at before he made any decisions. Because if she didn’t stick, he wasn’t sure he could, either.
He fucking needed her more than she knew. More than anyone knew.
It was fucked up, but it was true.
He hoped to fuck she would stick with him. Whether there as a part of the MC or elsewhere. That would be her choice.