chapter, but when he offered advice, it never came off as patronizing. It was a balance I tried to mimic as president myself, but I didn’t quite have the warmth that Priest did.
“I’m just glad I’m not president,” he admitted with a smirk. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I said. “You’re not wrong, it’s a lot of work. Not that vice isn’t, I mean—”
“I know,” Priest said. “It’s just different. I just don’t have the energy to direct the club anymore, you know? Better to let the next generation take the reins, at least in our chapter.”
“I have a feeling it’ll be something similar for the Junee chapter pretty soon,” I admitted. “I think Dante wants my job.”
“He’d be a hell of a good president,” Priest agreed. “Maybe Tru as vice?”
“Oh, God,” I groaned at the thought. “They’d burn the place to the ground. We need someone with sense in the inner circle.”
“Okay, Nix, then,” Priest said through his laughter. “He’d keep the insanity contained.”
I paused and nodded thoughtfully. “Honestly, you might be onto something with that.”
“What can I say?” Priest said. “I’m a man of ideas.” Then he leaned over, wrapped his hand around my nape, and tugged me in for a kiss. “I think you should stick around as president for a while, though. I’m getting kind of used to it.”
I smiled into the kiss. “Don’t worry, you’re stuck with me for at least a few more years.”
“Good,” Priest said. We traded lazy kisses for a long few minutes. It was so good—a reprieve from the stress of the past few weeks. All I had to worry about was the chilly breeze rustling through the trees, and the warmth of Priest’s mouth on mine.
Sometimes I was overwhelmed by how lucky I was to live a life like this—with a supportive club, children, and a plan for the future. Having Priest here, being not just a friend but a source of comfort and stability and companionship, felt like it was almost too much. Like I didn’t deserve it—like I couldn’t be the kind of man that Priest needed, especially after losing Ankh.
But there was no point in worrying about that now. Not when the day was so beautiful, and Priest was smiling into the kiss, and we hadn’t even broken into our sandwiches.
20
Priest
It was a clear Saturday afternoon, a few days after my outing to the overlook, and I, for once, had nothing on my schedule. Jonah and Maverick were both working at Ankhor Works, so I was on duty babysitting Grace; Gunnar, Blade, Logan, Raven, and a handful of other members were working together preparing for a cookout tomorrow.
I bounced Grace on my lap, where I was lounging on the couch. She laughed at the motion, alternating reaching for me, and getting distracted by Gretel’s yipping in the kitchen.
“Come on, Gretel, chill out,” Logan said with a laugh as he nearly tripped over the dog. “No snacks for you in here.”
The dog whined indignantly in response.
From the open back door, Coop’s whistle filtered through. “Gretel! Quit causing problems!”
Gretel bounded outside, careened off the porch steps, and started rocketing around the backyard, which led to some aggrieved shouting from Rebel, who was currently manning the grill.
“So.” Blade wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, leaving Logan to tend to the chili they were preparing in the crockpot. “How was your date earlier this week?”
My face flushed. “It wasn’t a date.”
“That sounds like something someone who went on a date would say,” Logan said with a smirk.
“He’s got you there,” Gunnar said, though he kept his attention on the celery he was chopping.
“It was fine,” I said.
“Ooh,” all the guys said in unison.
I rolled my eyes. “Mal really needed a day off from the constant enforcement tail, he’s not used to that,” I said. Grace fidgeted, looking a little bored and irritated. I stood up and walked over to the kitchen, bouncing her in my arms. “It was good for him—for us—to get a little privacy amidst all this craziness.”
“So it was a date,” Raven said.
“You’re missing the point,” I said with a shake of my head.
“Not sure he is,” Blade said, suddenly serious. “You know it’s okay if it was a date, right?”
“Yeah,” Gunnar said. “You two are being cagey for no reason.”
“I’m not being cagey,” I said, even though Gunnar was right. I peered at Grace. “Am I being cagey, Gracie?”
She blew a raspberry.
“There’s your answer,” Logan said.
“Your business is your own,” Blade said, “but you know, whatever direction your