he’d been closer to a father figure to Blade, from Blade’s early years with the club and later as he’d developed as president. Blade had leaned heavily on Priest for guidance and support, and I didn’t want Blade to think I was trying to pull Priest away from his duties as vice.
“Honestly?” Blade asked.
“Honestly.”
“I think it’d be good for the club,” Blade said. “Merging the clubs has been good, but there’s still some distance between the chapters, you know? I think it’d make us feel more like a family.”
“Using us to unite the chapters?” I teased. “Always with the presidential thinking.”
Blade rolled his eyes. “Come on. You know I’m right.”
I peered at him curiously. “You’re not worried about what might happen to the club if it doesn’t work out?”
Even asking that ached—there wasn’t even anything between Priest and me, besides the mutually acknowledged attraction. Not yet. And the attraction didn’t mean anything would happen. But part of being presidents meant we had to think about all the potential ways it could shake out. Even if I wasn’t sure how I wanted it to shake out. Because regardless of the attraction between us, this was Priest. A small, weak part of me couldn’t help but think there was no way I could live up to Ankh’s memory. Whatever we had, if we had anything at all, wouldn’t compare to what Priest had with Ankh.
But I owed it to him to at least talk it through.
“Of course, I am,” Blade said. “But it’s like you said. The club’s family to you both. It might be rocky, but we’d work it out.”
“You sound pretty sure of that,” I said.
“I am,” Blade said with a nod. “But more than that—both you and Priest have lost a lot. And given more than anyone else to our club. And you both deserve a real shot at happiness, even if there are risks.” He grinned. “Come on, we’re Hell’s Ankhor. You can’t say we don’t get off on a little risk.”
“You got me there,” I said.
“Just talk to him,” Blade said. “Sounds to me like you’ve both got your priorities straight. Now you just need to figure out the next steps together.”
He made it sound so easy. And admittedly it felt a little easier, knowing that Blade wasn’t horrified that there was something growing between Priest and me—and having the confidence that even if shit did hit the fan between us, the club would be able to weather it. It was like Blade said: we’d both given so much, and lost so much, too. We’d figure out a way through whatever comes next.
“All right,” I said. “I will.”
“Good,” Blade said, clapping me on the back with a grin.
Dante strolled back out with the prospects in tow, who both looked equal parts excited and terrified.
“I think they got the gist of it,” Dante said with a grin. “Would love to get them in here for a few shifts next week, see if either of them have a knack for baking.”
“Thanks, Dante,” Blade said. “I bet we can make that happen. But for now, come on, guys, let’s stop by the motel and grab a bite before we head into Elkin Lake to Ballast.”
I nodded in agreement, and the four of us filed outside to meet Siren and Coop, leaving Dante to man the bakery. In the middle of the day, the motel was likely to be empty, with all the guys either at work or on shifts for the club, especially with a big night planned later. And admittedly, when members weren’t busy, they ended up more often at the Elkin Lake clubhouse nowadays—the new renovation was still novel.
We rode the short distance from Stella’s to the motel.
“It’s leftovers for lunch, guys,” Blade said as he unlocked the front door and then waved the prospects in. “But they’re good leftovers, I’m telling you, Star is getting really into smoking meats…”
I lingered on the porch with my phone in hand. Blade was right—I needed to talk to Priest. Sooner rather than later, before I could chicken out. And just as I was about to call him to see if he wanted to grab a coffee, a familiar rumble cut through the quiet of the afternoon.
Priest parked his bike right next to mine. He climbed off, pulled off his helmet, and shot me a wide grin that made my stomach flip. I noticed every shift of muscle in his shoulders, the gorgeous curve of his biceps—his thighs as he climbed