Page 64 of All Your Firsts

“What happened?”

I blow out a deep breath. “I was a new patch on my first run when something went wrong. I went away, and the only way I could be free again was to let the club go.”

“So you did?”

“I did. Mostly, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is still my family, but I’m unable to hang out with them as I used to, and club activities are off-limits.”

“Did it hurt? When you lost all of this?”

“More than you know... or maybe you do.”

“I do,” she says, looking down at her plate.

“As you can see, I still have pieces of my old life, and you can, too.”

“What if I don’t want my old life back?”

Does that include leaving me behind? Me in the letters and me now?The thought fucking hurts, but her happiness means more to me than my own. It always will.

“Then, you start a new life.”

“Does that mean you’ll lighten up on me?”

“Not a fucking chance.”

“You know, you really know how to ruin a good moment.” She scrunches her nose.

“Don’t I know it.” I sigh.

I point to the rooms above us, explaining we all have our own, then help her stand.

“What do those doors go to?”

“Church.”

“Church?”

“Yeah, it’s where patched club members gather to discuss important club business, cast votes, or implement changes. Everything important that’s club-related takes place within those walls.”

“And this door?” she asks as she points at a room with a dead bolt on the outside.

“Just storage,” I say with a shrug.

Definitely not for storage unless you want to consider torturing a storage room. I guess we store the dead bodies there until we get rid of them, so it’s a half-truth. Our little buddy from poker night is still in there, gradually transforming into a liquid substance.

As we climb the stairs, I move closer to her. It’s surreal having her in my space. My home. I’d give anything to wrap her in my arms, but I hold myself back.

Pinging and knocking from the pinball machines assault our ears when we enter. Her eyes light up as soon as she sees the pool tables.

“You wanna play?”

“Sure, let’s make this interesting. If I win, you give me a tattoo,” she says as she grabs a cue stick off the wall. Wasting no time at all, she chalks the tip.

I grab my own and dismiss her wager.

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