Page 47 of Jett

“What the fuck is going on here?” I whisper, but she’s already halfway down the hall. I stalk along behind her, ignoring the reproving glances of the orderlies and other residents of this retirement home.

Raine comes to a stop in front of an open door. Inside, a man with wasted limbs and a gaunt face lays on the bed. He has an oxygen tube under his nose and he shakes his head when a female nurse tries to offer him some mushy baby shit on a spoon. I don’t blame the poor bastard. Get him a fucking Big Mac and then he might eat. He glances our way and his whole fucking demeanour changes when he sees Raine.

He makes some kind of guttural sound and attempts to point to the woman who’s been cleaning my clubhouse and serving my drinks for the past two years. A woman I apparently don’t even know.

“Hey, Joshy,” Raine says as she enters the room. The nurse attempting to feed him moves out the way and Raine leans in to giveJoshya gentle hug. Her blonde hair falls in a silken curtain around her, and the smile on her face is part joy, part anguish. “Hi. How are you feeling today?”

She pushes the hair out of his eyes and rests the back of her hand against his forehead, as if checking for a temperature.

“He’s doing great now. Aren’t you, Joshua?” the nurse says, smiling at her resident.

Another gruff sound slips from his throat and he attempts to put up his thumb. He winces as if the effort caused him pain. Raine laughs and eases his hand back on the bed, resting it by his side.

The nurse turns to Raine and lowers her voice, “His breathing is still a little concerning with the pneumonia, but the doctor assures me he’s on the mend and should be back to his old self soon enough.” Raine’s face falls, and the nurse gives her a sympathetic smile. “I mean ... his usual self.”

“It’s okay.”

I clear my throat, feeling like I don’t belong. I don’t know what the hell this is about, but I shouldn’t be here. Joshua’s stare finally lands on me, as if he’s only just registered my presence.

“Josh, I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Jett.” Raine smiles at me, but her eyes are filled with unshed tears. I want to go to her, but I can’t. My feet are glued to the fucking floor like a pussy. “Well, don’t just stand there, Prez. Come say hello to my husband.” She barely gets the last word out before the tears slide over her cheeks.

“Husband?”

“I’m gonna give you guys a minute,” the nurse says, looking cautiously between Raine and me.

“Thanks, Celia. I’ll see if I can’t get him to eat something.” Raine sits in the seat the woman just vacated and takes the spoon from the bowl of mashed baby-shit.

Joshyraises a shaking hand and points a finger at me.

“Sit down,” Raine commands with an unfriendly glance in my direction. “You’re making him nervous.”

“Sorry.” I shuffle into the room and take a seat on the opposite side of the bed from Raine. “I didn’t know.”

“I know. I wanted it that way.” She doesn’t look at me as she says this. Instead, she lifts the spoon to his lips. He closes his mouth and moves his head in a jerky drawn-out gesture. “You need to keep your strength up, Joshy. Please? For me?” She smiles at him and I see in that look how tired she is. How fucking done she is. He opens his mouth, and she grins. “Good.”

“You wanted it what way? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I wasn’t sure who I was working for. Josh is the only family I have. I needed to make sure he was protected.”

“From me?”

She nods. “And your club.”

“So Grim was trustworthy, but not me?”

“Grim found out the morning after I was almost shot.”

Josh makes another sound and Raine shakes her head. “Not shot. I had some trouble at work, but Grim fixed it. You remember Grim, right, Joshy?”

His head bobs in what I imagine is a nod. Raine picks up more of the pureed slush and spoons it into his mouth. He swallows, but half of the contents end up on his chin along with a shitload of drool. She grabs the edge of the bib around his neck and wipes his face clean—the way a mother would.

It’s fucking heartbreaking.

I don’t know how to watch this shit, and I want to stand and leave, but everything in her gaze dares me to do just that, and I can’t. I’ve already given her enough reason to believe I’m not worthy of her. Sitting here with her crippled husband who she provides for and protects makes me know I’m not worthy. She’s a fucking warrior, and I’m a pathetic piece-of-shit biker who’s treated her no better than one of my club whores.

“Stop watching me like that,” she says, spooning more food into her husband’s mouth.

“Like what?”

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