face for me to memorize every tiny detail. I don’t want to forget him if he doesn’t wake up. Why didn’t I take pictures? I’ll have none of him just like Papa!
Crying quietly, I’m not ready for Anders to go to his next story. He needs more love in this one. His heart is still broken. Though I might never have the power to fix it, I need time to try.
Even exhausted, I don’t sleep well. I should stay awake to protect Anders. I’m angry at myself for dozing at all. No one will protect him.
The next morning, I’m awake before Anders. I hold his hand in my lap and whisper for his body to survive.
Finally, his eyes open, and he looks surprised to see me. Then, he tries moving and grimaces in pain as he lifts his body.
“I forgot about the wound,” he mutters and sits on the edge of the bed.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No, Pixie, I’m fine. I just need to get cleaned up. Later, I’ll sit in the hot tub and let the bubbles work out the kinks. Don’t worry,” he says and kisses me as if today is any other morning.
Despite his casual behavior, Anders moves slower. He also winces in pain as we walk upstairs.
Everyone is awake when we arrive in the kitchen. Bronco’s older girls are at school. He sits on the back patio with his bundled-up baby. One of his sisters pets the dogs and talks to Mama. Future shivers in our mother’s arms, needing warmer clothes but likely wanting to be outside anyway. Dove sits in the grass and meditates.
Seeing us awake, Lana offers food first. Followed by pain medicine when she notices Anders hurting. He pops a few pills in his mouth.
“Papa was shot in the chest, too,” I whimper when Anders insists he’s fine.
“Not on the same side,” he says, holding my cheek in his wide palm. “The bullet last night didn’t hit anything important.”
“It was in your body!” I cry, startling myself.
While Lana excuses herself to let us talk, Anders finally realizes his fake bravery isn’t working. How can I not be terrified of losing him? Would he be so calm if the bullet went in my body? Of course not, but he thinks his pain doesn’t matter.
“Today, we’ll go to the Village,” he says, holding me against his warm body. “Afterward, I’ll ask Bronco for a few days off.”
“Off what?”
“From work,” he says, chuckling at how I don’t understand. “I’ll take a vacation and stay home with you and the family. I can drive you around, and we’ll buy the stuff for the backyard and anything else we need. There’ll be no parties or meetings. No one will bother us. I promise.”
“And I’ll take care of you,” I say, stroking his jaw with both of my hands. “You have to rest. Promise you’ll do that, too. Not only the stuff for us, but you need to promise to care about you, too.”
“I swear to you on my Executioners patch.”
Studying his pale blue eyes, I believe Anders is telling the truth. He wants a break. His vacation isn’t only for us.
Yesterday, Anders brought an extra pair of clothes to Bronco’s house. I help clean the blood from his skin and dress him. He eats well despite the pain. I imagine us at his house with Anders stretched out in his bed or on the couch. We could take care of him while his body heals. That’s what I want to happen.
Instead, Anders, Mama, Bronco, and I drive in the club president’s red SUV to the Village. We arrive to find a dozen trucks parked in the community’s lot. The scene is chaotic until Topanga, Barbie, and Bambi start yelling at everyone. They get different groups of people doing various activities. Supplies are brought in, mainly food. I notice doctors set up in tents, seeing primarily children.
To avoid him making his wound worse, I insist Anders only supervise. Bronco overhears me and orders his titan to sit this one out. I smile when the Executioners’ president takes my side.
“You can’t overdo it, either,” Anders tells me, and Bronco nods.
“Why? I’m not shot.”
“You’re malnourished,” Bronco says in his mean, biker-man voice. “And you clearly didn’t sleep well last night. Topanga needs an assistant. That’s your job. I don’t want to see you carrying shit or helping sick people. Just follow Topanga around as she does inventory.”
I can see why Anders listens to Bronco. When he uses his