been a schoolhouse and had been renovated to include a large meeting area in the main space with pool tables and dartboards off to the side. There was an office, a kitchen, and a few bedrooms upstairs. The Wednesday-night meeting was in full swing. Tank sat with his brothers and cousins, listening to his father and Preacher discuss club finances and prospects—the guys who were trying to become members—and encouraging members to sign up for their upcoming anti-bullying and suicide prevention talks at the local schools. Tank had already signed up for both.
As his father went into detail about dates and times, Tank’s mind wandered back to Leah and the girls. Last week the girls had been sad that he wouldn’t be there to say good night because he had to go to church. He’d tried to explain to them why the club meetings were important. But they’d wanted to come with him, and after five or six why nots, he’d finally told them the meetings were boring rather than try to explain that the club was for men only. Leah seemed to think he’d handled it well, but it was still bothering him. He’d called to check on them and to say good night to the girls before tonight’s meeting, and they told him to have fun at his bowing meeting. Hearing theirs and Leah’s sweet voices had made him long to see them, and it had taken everything he’d had not to tell Leah how much he missed her. But she didn’t need that kind of pressure. It was enough that he got to hold her in his arms at night, even if he wanted a hell of a lot more.
Blaine nudged him. “You might want to pay attention. Preacher’s talking about Trunk or Treat, and you know the girls would love that.”
Every year the club hosted a Halloween event with games and contests. They dressed up in costumes, decorated their cars and trucks, loaded up the trunks and truck beds with candy, and roped off the clubhouse parking lot so children could roam safely under the watchful eyes of the Dark Knights.
“Thanks, man.” Tank turned his attention to his uncle, who sat at the head table with the rest of the club officials, his dog Buster lying by his feet. Preacher had a commanding presence. He wore his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, kept his silver beard trimmed short, and had tattoos down both arms. He was like a second father to Tank. People joked that Tank should have been Preacher’s son because they were both broody and serious, while Conroy was playful and easygoing. All Tank knew was that he’d been blessed to be raised by the best men he knew—Conroy, Mike, and Preacher.
“Trunk or Treat is taking place on Halloween this year. That’s five weeks from Saturday,” Preacher announced. “We’ve got a sign-up sheet that we’ll leave on the table for volunteers to help run games and coordinate parking. If any of the women in your lives want to help Reba and Ginger with baking and other goodies, please sign them up, too. Any and all help is appreciated.”
Preacher wrapped up the meeting, and as guys got up to play pool, darts, and grab a beer, Tank pushed to his feet and said, “I’ll see you guys Sunday.” He planned on joining them for a ride while Leah and the girls were cooking with his mother and Madigan.
“You’re taking off?” Zeke asked.
“Yeah. I want to see Leah.”
Zeke nodded. “How is she doing?”
“You know. Tough road, but she’s strong.”
“I meant what I said about taking the girls on a hike when Leah’s up to it,” Zeke offered. “Or I can just take the girls and give her a break.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Maybe in a couple of weeks.”
Zander said, “I meant what I said, too. If it would help the girls to hear me play the guitar, I’m happy to swing by. Anything to make things easier for them.”
“I really appreciate it, Zan. We’ll set something up.”
“You’ve been spending every night there since the accident,” Gunner pointed out.
Tank held his stare. “Yeah, and?”
“Nothing man, it’s cool.” Gunner held his hands up. “I was just wondering if you two were a thing now.”
Tank didn’t know what they were, but it was a hell of a lot more than a thing. “I gotta go.”
“Hold on.” Gunner got up from his seat and limped toward Tank, dragging one leg behind him.
Tank didn’t remember him limping when he’d come in.