Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,60

all. You can hang out at my place because it’s you, you know? It’s us, now.”

Us. My heart clenched. I’d never had an us. It was always just me against the world, at least since Parker passed away. Even within the club, I’d hugged the outskirts, and it still felt like a me versus them situation any time my mouth got ahead of me. But Brennan seemed to want to be on my side, for whatever it was that would come next.

And that gave me the courage to nod. “All right. Let’s see how this turned out, first.”

Brennan grinned, then took me by the hand and pulled me outside.

“There you are,” Blade said with a knowing smile. “Come on, we’ve all been waiting for this—let’s see the big reveal.”

The rest of the club watched with excitement in their eyes. Brennan placed a hand at my lower back and encouraged me forward. I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped to the covered sign. I tangled my fingers in the soft fabric of the quilt covering it, closed my eyes, and pulled.

The quilt fell, landing with a rustle into a pile at the base of the sign.

I knew what the sign looked like by heart, so I took a moment and kept my eyes closed to steady my breaths. I knew it was big: six feet tall, three feet wide, sanded to butter-smooth with a clear stain on the pale grain of the wood. I was proudest of the logo in the center: the detailed flames, the elegant anchor, and the perfect curve of the ankh at the top.

I’d done my best. There was nothing I could do to improve the sign. All I could do now was hope it was good enough to meet my club’s standards.

Silence behind me.

Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t good enough. I knew this would happen. I knew it wouldn’t be enough. That I’d just disappoint them again, the same way I disappointed everyone. Shouldn’t have tried. Should’ve just kept to what I know. What I was good at: dicking around, drinking, making people laugh. Shouldn’t have tried to be taken seriously. My throat closed, and my stomach churned.

And then.

Was that—clapping?

I chanced a look up.

It was Priest. Priest was clapping as he gazed at the sign, his thoughtful eyes tracking over it before flicking up to my face. His lips curved into a small, proud smile.

Proud. My stomach churned again, but this time for a different reason.

The rest of the inner circle stared at the sign, too. Dante’s mouth had dropped open, Blade was grinning, Raven’s eyes widened—everyone had various expressions of shock. And my expression wasn’t any better, I was sure.

And then Blade started clapping, too. Then everyone else began to follow Priest’s and Blade’s lead, and the applause rang out around the backyard, with a few cheers and congratulations mixed in as well.

“It looks amazing,” Blade said. “Better than I could’ve imagined. You really carved all this?”

“Well, sure,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. After so much anxiety and terror about this sign, the flood of relief nearly knocked me sideways. Relief and pride. They did like it. It was good enough. And eventually, maybe, I’d get to see it mounted in front of the Elkin Lake clubhouse.

“Really gorgeous,” Jonah agreed. “Can’t believe it’s ours!”

He smiled as Grace wiggled happily in his arms, as if she agreed.

“We’ve got some talented folks in this club, that’s for sure,” Mal said warmly. He knocked his shoulder against Priest’s, and Priest returned his smile and laid a hand on his forearm.

“That we do,” Priest said, then turned that proud smile back to me.

“Seriously, it looks great,” Coop said with a big grin. He stepped forward and clapped me on the shoulder, giving me a proud little shake. “Shame it’s spelled wrong. Guess you gotta start over.”

The relief was suddenly replaced by ice-cold terror. The whiplash almost made me nauseous with how fast I went from happy to horrified. I blinked hard and looked at the sign—had I really spelled it wrong? I thought I knew how to spell my club’s name. Honestly, if there was anything I was comfortable writing, it was the club name.

“Don’t fuck with me,” I said, with a carefully practiced lightheartedness in my voice.

If Coop noticed the tension in my posture, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just laughed, his grin easy and loose like he wasn’t rocking my whole world. “Won’t take too long to redo, right? Couple weeks?”

But—I’d been