Beast Comes Home - Devil's Blaze MC

“Skull—” Before I can finish, Torch hands me a Christmas gift. I look down at the present, covered in wrapping paper of Santa’s mooning everyone. I roll my eyes despite the tightness in my heart and chest. “You really are an asshole, Torch,” I mutter under my breath. He laughs and slaps me on the shoulder and stands back.

“Open it, hermano.”

Shit, it might make me a pussy, but I sit down because it feels like my knees are trying to hold up dead weight. I rip away the stupid-as-shit wrapping paper, wadding it up into a large ball and throw it at Torch. It hits him right between the eyes, making me snort.

I still got it.

“Hey!” Torch laughs, everyone else joining in.

When I take the lid of the box off. I see a Devil’s Blaze cut. It’s brand new, but then it would have to be, because Skull left mine for me when he came out to see me in North Carolina when I was dealing with Blade…

“Skull, I had one of these…” I start and I know the crew is making some kind of grand gesture, but I’d prefer my old cut to a new one any day of the week. I earned that cut. This one seems…”

“I know that, Beast. This one is different. I’m not going to lie, hermano. I want you back home. I want you part of this empire that you help build,” he says, and I can hear the emotion choking his voice. I hear it and I feel it, because I feel the same emotion. “Read the patch,” he encourages.

I look down and read it and everything snaps into place.

President.

Devil’s Blaze North Carolina Chapter.

Son of a bitch.

I look up at Skull, my heart beating hard.

“The boys and I took a vote and decided this was a step that needed to be done and there’s no one better for carrying it out,” Skull mutters. “Besides, if that bastard, Dragon, can have chapters all over the U.S., then why can’t we?” Skull says with a shrug. “We’ll just do it better.”

Everyone cheers, but Skull and I share a smile. A smile of happiness, but also one of a little sadness. Not much, because things have changed for a while—this just makes it more official.

“I’m not going to lie, I wanted you closer. I wanted you back in the fold, but a wise woman…” he looks over at Beth and gives her a wink, “once told me that just because we want something with all of our heart, it doesn’t mean we always get it. This…” he gestures toward the cut.

“This is perfect,” I finish for him, my voice filled with emotion and tears stinging my eyes.

“Not quite—at least not for me, but it is as it should be,” Skull concedes.

I nod in approval.

“It is.”

“North Carolina is not that far away. We’ll see each other often, hermano.”

“We better,” I agree, standing up.

“We will, but if you ever get a wild hair and want to move back to Kentucky, your ass is wearing your old cut. There’s only one president here,” Skull grumbles.

“Got it,” I tell him, and we hug, the other men crowding around us, to welcome me back—although differently than before. Through all of them and even in the tears that might be leaking from my eyes, I see Hayden, happy… happy for me.

She and I talked last night. She knows how I feel, but she’s never wavered. Not once during all of this or hell, even before, did she ask me not to do something. The woman uprooted her whole life to move back to North Carolina—a place that didn’t have great memories for her—and she did that for me. She would move again without so much as blinking and she would do it all for me. Who in the fuck gets as lucky…? No, I’m not lucky. I’m blessed. I don’t know a lot, but since being able to feel my daughter again, knowing that she’s there, I believe in a higher power. I believe in my bones. Hayden is a gift. Without her, I would have given in to the darkness. I would have never known the beauty of being her man, and a father to our sons.

And I never would have felt the presence of my daughter.

I realize all of that, just like I realize that my brothers never let me down all those years ago when I lost Annabelle. I just wouldn’t let them reach me. I had wounds that no one could touch until Hayden tried. She waded in and picked and picked, until the holes in my soul began to scab over. They’re not healed, will never be completely healed, but that’s okay.

People you love leave imprints of themselves on your spirit and you should always wear the loss of them proudly.