Page 20 of Fury
Beer in hand, he used the bar’s mirror to check the room. Hoss was nowhere in sight. Neither was Hope.And in about thirty seconds, I’ll be wind, too.
***
Months later, a different patch finally in place on his back, Fury stood on a hill, staring down at the patterns created on the cold ground that stretched from fence-to-fence. Patterns of trust and uncertainty, drawn by lines of an alliance between clubs. Groups separated by just enough distance to ensure no conflicts would happen today.
He was glad they were being considerate. Putting aside grievances for grief.
Bingo had died, carried off this green earth by the cancer that had been eating at his insides for a while. He’d been a good man that Fury hadn’t known long, but liked more than he’d expected. After only a few conversations, Fury had found he respected the man for his wisdom and experience, the miles the man had under his wheels, all the things he’d seen in his rearview. Old cuss of a member, a ground-pounder from decades ago, Bingo had been a past-president held in high regard by every man in the club, regardless of chapter.Fuck, regardless of club, he thought, looking down again at the dozen or more patches represented at the funeral.
Movement to one side drew his attention, and he turned to see Hoss standing there, staring down in much the same position in which Fury stood. He was surprised to see Hoss, and then twisted back to sweep the cluster of women close to the tent, seeing Hope there with her sister, Mercy.
Make nice with the man, he told himself with a grimace, walking over to stand next to Hoss.It won’t kill you to make nice with the officer who holds your future in his hands. Even though Fury and his men hadn’t been made to prospect like someone new to the life, as their sponsor, Hoss held responsibility for them and was in his rights to demand Fury acknowledge him. He wouldn’t, but Fury felt it wiser to continue to offer it up unasked, letting the sincerity show. He was honestly pleased to wear the Rebel patch. Pleased, and proud.
Gaze cutting his way, then back to the men below, Hoss greeted him. “Fury. How’s life treating you these days?”
Hoss’ casual welcome shocked Fury, who knew the man had been through a world of shit recently. Hope’s boy had been taken by her ex-asshole, and Hoss had to go all the way to Alabama to get the boy back, coming home only two nights ago. The kid had been found healthy and whole, thank God.Man worked for and earned the woman, and gained a family, Fury thought, hating the burn of jealousy that writhed through him.
Something must have shown on his face because Hoss’ next words were a cautious question. “You got shit, man?”
Smoothing his features, Fury brushed it off with casual words, sorry he’d taken the time to walk over.I’ll just stand a minute, then head down to the boys. His gaze swept the cemetery again, seeing his men standing in a clump to one side. Hoss was silent, staring down at Hope.Enough of this shit. Fury asked, “I’m gonna hit it. You want me to grab anything before I head back to the clubhouse?” Hoss didn’t move, didn’t change expression, and Fury wasn’t sure the man had even heard him. With a grin, he repeated the question with the same result. Leaning closer, he asked a third time, laughing aloud when Hoss just continued to stare down the hill.
At his laugh, Hoss jerked and turned to look at him, asking grimly, “What?”
Fuck. Deep and dark with this man, too. “I’ve asked you three times if you guys needed anything picked up before my boys head back to the clubhouse, but you were staring off into space.” Fury angled his eyes down, breaking their locked gazes. “Where were you, Hoss?”
Instead of answering him, Hoss said, “Our boys. Every member is ours, so you sayin’ you got some special boys ain’t gonna fly.”
Fuck you. Clamping his lips tight so those words didn’t escape, Fury kept his tone casual as he said, “Noted. You didn’t answer my question.”
Nothing could have prepared him for Hoss’ answer. “Hope’s pregnant.”
With two words, Hoss ripped the ground out from under Fury’s feet. Reminded again that for six short days he’d held in his hands what he wanted more than anything in the world.Bethany. A world away. Hooked her star to another man, any children she had wouldn’t be Fury’s. None of his jailhouse dreams of her would come true, all his imagining Bethy cradling a tiny baby, red hair contrasting with sweet grey eyes in vain.Might as well wish on a fuckin’ star.
He stared down the hill at Hope, seeing happiness shining from her face. Hoss had never treated her badly. Never lied to her. Would never do to her what Fury had done to Bethy.So fuckin’ happy. Bethy deserved that.
Hope’s boy had run towards the tent by the graveside, coming back with one of Jase’s kids in tow. The expression of love she wore when she looked down at her son was too much. Fury couldn’t stand the thought of Hope’s face appearing like Bethy’s had, staring at him through the glass in the visitor’s center, tears marking her shirt as they dripped off her jaw. Tiny rings of accusation, dark proof he broke everything he loved.I caused that. That’s mine.
Stiffly, he moved, clenching his hands. Then he gave Hoss the advice he wished to God someone had given him. Wished he’d known the importance of holding on when he’d had the chance. Wanted to pass it along in a way that would resonate, so the man never lost sight of what he’d been blessed with. “Both hands. You find sweet and good like that, you hold onto it with both hands. Tight as you can. That is a fucking magnificent woman, and now she’s carrying your babe. Both.” He paused to take a breath, turning his head to stare at Hoss, willing him to understand the importance of the message. “Hands.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
***
Marie’s held the promise of oblivion. Delivered to his table by a curious Tequila, the requested full bottle of whiskey stood waiting.
Fury wanted it, hell, he needed it tonight.
Hope’s pregnant.
Two words, and the resulting anger and grief of loss built a fucking home in his chest.Something I’ll never have. He’d been swallowed whole by a wave of emotion so huge he had nearly missed Hoss’ next words, that she was giving him a girl. Full family with a boy, a girl child, and a woman like that?Fucking shit.Hell, yeah, Hoss should be pleased and he’d sounded every ounce. In love, full to bursting with that pleased coming from so deep inside him, Fury could see how Hope had filled him right up, even if she didn’t know. Hoss’ whole world. Got her boy back, dealt with the dick that was her ex, locked her to him in a way that made the ties tighter than ever.
Fury harbored secret, dark dreams of having Bethany like that. Have her tied to him, any way he could. Now that he was patched into the Rebels, he had to keep his past closer to the chest than ever before, protecting what he could. At night, he would pull out the memory of holding her against him, feeling the way her soft curves fit into him. Only then could he remember how when he pressed his face into her neck and nuzzled into that soft hair, Bethany was all he could see. Buzzed as fuck, filling his lungs with the scent that was all truth, and nothing false.
Truth, not deceit.Can’t turn back the clock. No matter how much he wanted. Her last words to him continued to flay him open. Two words he couldn’t forget.Never real.
Yes, it was, he argued with himself, unsuccessfully trying to bury the memories of Bethany.
He’d breathed her in.
