Page 65 of Their Property
Bash, our former president, was the first man I fell in love with. I owed him everything for making me the man I was. With years of patience and guidance, he helped me unlearn every toxic belief about myself. He even gave me his blessing to pursue relationships with Dyno and Grudge when I developed feelings for them as well.
Toward the end, Bash and I were more platonic than romantic, but it never felt like our relationship hadended. It just changed as time went on and we grew older. He wanted to dote on his children before they got too old, but I never felt ready for a settled-down family life. I fell head over heels for Dyno and Grudge, and because of my foundation with Bash, I was able to be a good partner to them, not a vile piece of shit like I’d been in the past. Bash saved my life, saved the people I would’ve hurt if I didn’t change, and I’d always love him deeply for that.
And then he was just gone.
How was I supposed to move on? Become president in his stead? Fall in love with someone else? A woman, no less?
I hated hurting Kyrie, but I had to turn her down last night. Not only did she deserve better than an outlaw nearly twice her age, she didn’t deserve to compete with a dead man. I could do casual sex, no problem. I could tease and flirt with her. I could love the two men Bash had already known and approved of, but my heart was too twisted, too complicated of a place for her. She deserved an equal share, and I longed to give that to her, but I didn’t know if I was capable of giving any more.
Munin sat perched on my handlebars, making soft vocalizations and tilting his head as he watched me violently pack my shit.
“You know what’s coming,” I said, stroking his chest feathers. “Are you ready to say hello to your brother?”
The raven cooed like a dove and hopped higher up my handlebars, bobbing his head up and down in a humanlikeyesmotion.
I chuckled softly. “Yeah, I miss him too.”
Just like in the Norse sagas, Munin had been one of a pair. His brother, Hugin, had been Bash’s raven. Like me, Bash could see through Hugin’s eyes. Our ravens and this unique ability was just another thread that tied us together, another festering wound that refused to heal.
Dyno, Grudge, and I had been away reporting to Governor Vance in Four Corners when the fire hit our clubhouse. I regretted going on that ride every moment of every day. When everyone inside perished, I assumed the same had happened to Hugin. We never saw him again.
Once done packing, I started up my bike and headed out of the canyon, not bothering to see if the others were following. They’d catch up soon enough. I couldn’t be their president right now and they knew that. I was a grieving mess, and every year, they allowed me to be just that.
It was only a few hours of riding before we reached the spot. It was easy to miss these days, with most of the charred ruins disintegrating with time. Some shrubs and grasses had sprouted at the site of our old clubhouse, with only hints of the black scar on the ground poking through. Saguaro cacti stood tall like guardians of this resting place. Mountains rose in the distance, striped with oranges and reds. I once considered this desert my home. I realized too late that my home had been the people who were taken from me. All except for two.
I cut my engine and was only distantly aware of the others riding up behind me. They turned off their bikes and silence fell over our surroundings. Everyone knew better than to talk to me while I was here.
It felt…peaceful here. I knew our friends the Steel Demons MC came out here and paid their respects not long after the massacre had happened. Maybe that had been enough to lay everyone to rest. If only I could take some of that peace for myself and not feel so damn guilty for being alive.
Munin flew from my handlebars as I dismounted my bike and started toward the burn site. He landed on one of the smaller cacti and cawed, gesturing down with his beak. I frowned. This was new.
“What is it, Munin?” I knelt down in front of the cactus, touching my fingers to the gravelly soil in front of it.
He cawed louder, flapping his wings excitedly, and hopped up and down on the cactus.
Curious, I began a shallow dig with my fingers. I didn’t have to go far before I touched something smooth, dragged my finger along it, and felt a sharp corner. Digging with both hands now, it was just a few minutes before I found all four edges of a picture frame. My digging became frantic, which had to make me look like a maniac to everyone else, but fuck if I cared.
I lifted the picture frame from the ground and got hit with an intense wave of memories once I wiped the glass clean.
“Fuck,” I choked out through my closed-up throat.
It was of Bash and I, taken on some disposable camera nearly fifteen years ago. We were hugging each other, grinning like idiots. I remembered the tight squeeze of his arms, the smell of his cigarettes. Despite how drunk I must have been, I remembered that party clearly and how happy everyone was.
I rubbed my finger over the glass, staring at that immortalized moment, now damaged by years of dirt, sun, wind, and rain. My chest squeezed with the yearning to go back to that time, when club life was nothing but a fun adrenaline rush. Racing through the desert, chasing highs, and chasing the people I wanted to fuck. Life was so much simpler back then, and it sure as shit didn’t hurt as much as now.
“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed to the photograph. “I don’t know how to let you go.”
Munin let out a soft series of caws and clicks then, almost like he was chiding me.
I looked up, angrily meeting the eyes set in the inky black feathers. “Do you even know what this is like? Hugin isn’t here anymore, either. Do you know what it means to miss someone, you stupid fucking bird?”
Yes.
That single world knocked me flat on my ass. It was in my head but also in the breeze. I heard stories of gods communicating to people, but never their messengers. Munin had lent me his eyes for years, but I never heard him speak a word to me.
“What’s happening?” I whispered, keeping my eyes locked on the raven. “Why are you talking to menow?”
You have made yourself lost, Travis. No one is meant to live in the past, but you have kept yourself there.
