Page 75 of Savage Grace

“A wise woman once told me that it was probably my daddy issues.”

I pursed my lips at him.

Then with a sigh, he put his drink down and turned back to me.

“Everyone’s different, Zar. Some of the guys are legacy kids, watched their dads do club stuff and ride bikes since they were little. Some of them like notoriety. Some of them like doing the dumb shit and making big money.

Some of the guys just really fucking love bikes. They just want people to ride with, people totalkabout riding with.”

He huffed a quick laugh as he gestured to Shag, who was imitating a big pull of a throttle and making the sound effects to go along with whatever story he was telling.

I smiled at the old guy, couldn’t help it. He looked so young in that moment, the twinkle in his eyes as he leaned around invisible corners and held tight onto invisible handlebars.

“Some of us maybe do have a touch of daddy issues,” Ashe continued with a one-shouldered shrug. “Some of us maybe do just want that feeling of family, of brotherhood, of feeling like you have people in your life who are ride or die.”

He was looking at the clock behind the bar now, anywhere but towards me. I put my hand on his bicep, giving it a quick squeeze.

“I get that.” I smiled up at him when his warm eyes finally turned back to me.

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Of course. I see the same things in my family. They’re all so bonded for life, you know? They go through so much stuff together, and it brings them closer together.”

Ashe tipped his head to the side. “What about you?”

I pushed my tongue into the side of my cheek, feeling a little caught off guard by the way it hit me emotionally. Because at the end of the day, who did I have?

My family, sure, but even to them I was a little bit of an outsider.

Not quite in, not quite out.

Ashe must’ve read my mind, and he drew me closer against his side but didn’t say anything. I let myself melt against him a little bit, trying to compose myself and push those feelings of inadequacy back to the back of my mind where they belonged.

“Ya know, old ladies are an important part of any MC.” Ashe smiled into his glass as he finished his drink.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” I raised my brows.

“Jesus—I’m not callingyouold. An old lady is what we call wives and girlfriends of club members,” he clarified with a laugh.

“Oh,” was the only thing my brain could come up with at that moment. “Are they allowed here?”

“‘Course,” Ashe nodded once with a frown. “You’re here now, aren’t ya?”

He looked at me a little while longer, that smile of amusement on his face because he could tell that I was still reeling from the comment. But he didn’t shy away from it, didn’t correct himself or clarify what he meant.

The implication just hung there in the air between us.

“You wanna see my room?”

“You have a room here?” I tried to shake off the way my breath was still a little stilted, looking up at him and searching for any teasing in his eyes.

Did he just offhandedly refer to me ashisold lady?

A quick nod. “Shouldn’t really drink and ride,” he gestured to the empty schooner in his hands.

“Do you all have rooms?” I thought about the abundance of doors down those halls.

Ashe tilted his head from side to side a few times. “Not all. But we do have a few spares in case anyone needs one. Or you know, just for extracurriculars.”

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