Page 61 of Resilience

“From Tulsa, just you and Gun. Monty took a blow to the head, but he’s okay. Just got his bell rung a little. Nevada lost Ben. And Geno took a slug in his shoulder.”

“Ben? Their VP, right? Zach’s father-in-law, sort of? They lost him?” As Sam understood it, Ben was the heart of the Nevada charter, deeply connected to most of the patches. His son, his daughter’s old man, his best friend—all patches. And he was dead? Sam barely knew the man, but he understood what a blow to a family that was.

“Yeah,” Fitz said. “He’s gone. He took one to the head and was dead before anybody could get to him.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Hey, kid. It’s bad, but don’t get lost in it, okay? Your job right now is to get well, prospect. You got people who need you well.”

“Athena,” he said without thinking.

Fitz didn’t seem to think it was unusual for Sam to think of Athena first. “She knows you’re gonna be okay. Your folks, too. We’re keeping everybody at home up to speed, and they’re safe—we called a lockdown to make sure. And Tulsa’s on its way here as we speak. Your folks should be here in an hour or two.”

“My folks? My mom, too?” Sam’s throat and the backs of his eyes started to itch madly. He needed his mom, but he didn’t want her at risk. “Is it safe?”

Fitz chuckled softly. “There was no way to keep Deb or Leah away. It was safer to keep them with the club, because they’d have come out on their own right after the club rode out anyway. We’ll keep ‘em safe.”

The door swung open, and Cooper poked his head in. When he saw Sam awake, he stepped all the way in and smiled. In his drawn, weary face, the effect was a little macabre. “Hey kid. How’re you feeling?”

“Shitty. But better. How’re you doing?”

“Shitty, yep. But it’s good to see you with some color in your face.” Turning his attention to Fitz, he said, “finally got rid of law out there, and Tulsa’s here. We’re meeting in the chap—”

He cut off when the door hit his back. Sam’s mother burst into the room.

“Mom,” Sam gasped—and started to bawl.

Ignoring everyone else, Mom flew to his side. “Baby! Baby, baby, baby, baby!” She held his head carefully and covered his face in kisses. “I’m here, Sam. I’m here. You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Not caring that his shoulder screamed and his neck throbbed, not caring that he was sobbing like a little kid, Sam grabbed hold of his mother and let his feelings—his fear, his anger, his pain, his worry, his grief, his relief to have his mom and dad, his need for Athena—he let it all free.

When he was done, his body was sore and shaky, his head felt thick, and he was completely exhausted. With a final kiss to his forehead, Mom leaned back and smiled wetly at him. Her face was streaked with her own tears.

Except for his father, who stood at the other side of the bed, they were alone in the room. Cooper and Fitz had left.

“Hi, Dad,” Sam said when he could speak again.

Dad set his hand on Sam’s head. “Hi, son. You look like shit.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks a lot.” He turned to his mom again. “Any word on Uncle Gun?”

Mom shuddered. “I don’t know what you know.”

“In a coma. They think he’s paralyzed.”

“That’s what we know. Leah’s with him. I needed to see you first.”

“It all got so fucked so fast, Dad.” About halfway through the sentence, Sam felt another outburst surging up his throat, but he choked it off.

“I know, bud. That’s how it goes. But I’m proud as fuck of you. Your quick thinking saved a lot of trouble for sure, and probably lives, too.”

Sam shook his head—and winced when the movement tweaked his neck.

“Yeah, you did,” his father insisted.

But that wasn’t what Sam had been denying. He remembered being in the clubhouse, escaping the toxic waste dump Monty had made of their bunkhouse, catching the headlights before they’d been cut off. He remembered sounding the alarm.

He’d shaken his head because during his emotional eruption in his mom’s arms, a thought had cut its way through his turmoil: I can’t do this.

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