Page 10 of Marx

“Thank you, Switch. For everything.”

His gaze softens and his eyes dart away before finding mine again, “Do you know how Marx and I met?”

I shake my head, then twist my body on the gurney a little, until I’m facing Switch a little more.

“It was my last tour. I was taken by insurgents along with my team. Stuck in a shitty cave I worked with what I had to keep my brothers alive. There were gunshot wounds, stabbings, you name it. All we had was water, and whatever I was carrying when we were found.”

I grip his hand even tighter, but I’m unsure he even notices I’m here. He’s gazing through me. “I couldn’t save them. One by one they succumbed to infections or blood loss or they just gave up.” He shrugs one large shoulder, runs his hand over his face and sniffs, shaking his head, his clear gaze returning to mine. “Marx found me. Brought me home with him to Rose Grove MC, introduced me to other brothers who had been dealt a shit hand. He and Mad Dog and the old boys who have all passed on, they built us back up from the dirt. I will always owe Marx for giving me my life back. But you, Lovely Landry, I owe you even more. You saved the man that saved me, and that fucking means something. To all of us.” He gives me a small smile and I cup his face, running my thumb over his stubble.

“I did what any good person would do, Switch.”

He lets out a huff. “You’d be surprised.”

We come to a rolling stop and the back doors are pulled open abruptly. “Welcome home!” is yelled by what sounds to be one hundred voices, and its music to my ears. The faces of the people I love are all grinning as I wave from my place on the bed.

“Well, move aside people,” Switch booms, stooping a little until he has room to jump down onto the ground outside.

The crowd disperses until the only people who are still standing there are my brothers, my sister, Marx, Bee and the Girl Gang. Switch arranges a wheelchair at the foot of the ambulance and then looks at me, then the chair.

“Fuck sake, move,” Marx growls, handing Bee to Nat while he steps up into the back of the ambulance with me, scoops meup bridal style and then jumps back out very gently, so as not to jostle me.

He lowers me gently into the wheelchair, moving to grip the handles, ready to propel me forward.

“Hold your horses, big man,” Nat teases Marx, leaning to place Bee onto my lap.

I nuzzle into her dark hair, breathing her toddler smell into my lungs. It’s a nicer smell than usual. She smells less like sweaty kids and more like she’s been well loved by her aunties. Raising my head I rear back when I see my home.

“Holy cow,” I whisper.

“I know right?” Mira laughs and claps as she skips to the side of me as Marx races us toward the farm house. “Pops did all this. The mobile homes are for the couples and families. Although the small one over there is for when Fox and Nitro get back.”

My chest aches knowing that Fox is in the hospital. I send out good vibes, hoping it’s enough. I stopped praying a long time ago, and though I have faith in a great something beyond us, I just can’t bring myself to speak to any one greater being.

Remy rushes ahead, ready to open the door for us as Marx pushes me up a temporary ramp, “Figured it was a necessity, what with Fox and yourself needing a little extra accessibility,” Vi says, “Jazz has access to all this cool accessible stuff through her school and when they heard what happened, they wanted to help. The DRMC has been good at donating to the school from time to time,” she adds.

I just nod, marvelling at how full of life the farmhouse is. I’ve visited often, baked in the kitchen with Mama Debs and enjoyed dinners with her and Pops, and it always seemed as if the house was just a landing spot for them. The two of them rattled around in such a large house, so to see it so full of hustle and bustle warms my heart.

“There she is!” Rider yells, limping toward me.

“Ignore the limp, it was a flesh wound to the ass, he’s milking it now,” Ana whispers.

“Wait, hasn’t he been hit in the butt before?” I whisper back. Everyone in the girl gang nods in unison.

“I don’t even know how he manages it. It should be statistically impossible to be shot that many times in the ass,” Chewy frowns.

“Lemme guess, you’ve crunched the numbers?” Ana asks drily.

“Yeah. And even the numbers couldn’t predict it happening more than once.”

“Did you accommodate for the fact that maybe Rider has a big, juicy peach?” Blanche asks with a snort.

All heads snap toward her, including Tav’s. “Babe!” he shouts, offended.

“What? I grew up in a cult! Now I’m out in the world and I’m surrounded by fat booties everywhere.”

Everyone in the big living room groans, apart from Rider who’s limp is miraculously cured as he minces around, sticking out his butt.

Marx’s obnoxiously loud whistle almost blows my eardrums out and I can’t help but turn my head and frown up at him.

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