Hurricane Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 1)

Exiting the bedroom, I left her to make the call. My brain processed my next steps, leaving behind everything that had happened tonight. Not that I wanted to move on from that so fast, but I had to focus on plans to get to Brisbane. It was bad timing for the club, but King always put family first, so there wouldn’t be any issues with me taking some time out.

“Winter,” Max said when he answered my call. “You heard?”

Fuck, he really is dead.

No more Friday night phone calls from him telling me to hurry up and find a woman to settle down with.

“Yeah. I’m gonna leave tonight and come up.” Max lived in Brisbane with his wife and their sons. “Can I crash at your place?”

No more sitting in his tinny, throwing a line in, listening to him bang on about the love of a good woman being all a man needs in his life.

“Don’t leave tonight. Wait until the morning.”

I ignored what he said. “Max, can I stay with you or not?”

No more footy in front of the TV with him giving me hell over not supporting the Broncos anymore.

“Of course you can stay here, but I really don’t think you should be on the road—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He knew me better than to argue over shit like this. “How are the kids taking it?”

He sighed, his usual level of frustration with my choices in life evident. Besides frustration, I heard the weariness and grief in his voice. But Max wasn’t one for emotions so this would take him years to process fully. I wasn’t convinced he’d processed Mum’s death yet. “Not good.”

I figured that was all I’d get out of him, so I left it. I’d see for myself soon enough. “I’ll call you when I’m close.”

“Stay safe.” He wasn’t a fan of bikes and he wasn’t a fan of not being fully prepared and planned for anything in life, so those two words covered a lot.

I ended the call and shoved my phone in my pocket as I turned to locate my keys.

Dad’s dead.

There’s no more of anything with him.

Ever.

It hit me fair in the gut, and I doubled over as the pain forced itself through me.

Fuck, he’s only 59. And healthy. He shouldn’t be dead.

My chest crushed in on my heart and I gulped for air.

I blindly reached for something to grip on to, to hold myself up because, fuck, the room was spinning and I was about to hit the floor.

Just as I felt myself going down, Birdie moved in close and wrapped her arms around me. She steadied me and kept me vertical.

We stood together for the longest time. Arms around each other. Her cheek to my chest while she squeezed me like she was trying to save me.

By the time I moved out of her embrace, I’d managed to get my shit together. I pushed everything I was feeling down deep. The only thing I allowed in were thoughts about getting to Brisbane. The best course of action right now was to be methodical about everything that had to be done. I’d crack open everything else later.

“You’re leaving for Brisbane now?” Birdie asked, looking up at me.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going with you.”

I swiped my keys up off the coffee table. “No.”

“No?” She stared at me in the way she did whenever I said something she couldn’t believe. There was always the beginning of a challenge in there, too, and I could hear it tonight. Hell, Birdie was stubborn as fuck when she wanted to be.