Page 149 of Beautifully Shattered
Smitty’s brows shoot up, and he leans closer, whispering loudly.
“Why the fuck would you give her a gun?”
“So I can do this,” she says, and he stiffens like a board, his hands shooting up.
She moves behind him, and his back arches like she’s running something up his spine, and a moment later, her hand appears on his shoulder, her finger pointed against his cut before she stretches up to press it to his temple.
“Pew-pew,” she giggles, and he chokes on a cough before spinning to face her.
Those around us burst into laughter at the sight of her holding up her finger gun like a badass bitch, while Smitty shakes his head.
“Uh, Prez. Looks like she got you,” Vender laughs, falling against Mex, who’s too busy recording the whole thing on his phone.
“Charity—”
“Uh-uh.” She shakes her head, pressing her finger gun to the middle of his forehead, and this time, Smitty laughs.
“Fine! Our dearAbbey. Please join me for a drink.” He gestures to the bar, which looks like it’s been extended since the last time I was here.
“Fine. But not that harsh stuff. I like the sweet stuff, thanks.”
“Of course,” Smitty beams, leading her to his table, and I follow, hoping like hell he can get on her good side for longer than five fucking minutes.
We all sit, and Casey brings over the bottle of Jack, a bottle of Moscato, and some glasses, and we settle in to drink.
I refuse the shot of Jack Smitty insists I down, sticking with the beer I’ve got, knowing it’s the only alcohol I’ll touch today, while I watch my wife enjoy a few glasses of the sweet stuff as she and my Prez finally take some time to get to know each other.
It’s amusing watching her walls drop as the alcohol starts to take effect, but she stops at three glasses, telling Smitty if she has any more, her knife skills will suffer if she has to stab him. That sends them both into fits of laughter, and I swear their energy spreads throughout the barn, infecting everyone for the first time in a long time.
JD and Jols make an appearance after about three hours, everyone cheering like they’ve just walked into their own fucking wedding. Abbey hurries to Jols, throwing her arms aroundher neck, and they hug and talk into each other’s ears as they sway to the music like they’re fucking dancing.
Fuck. I love seeing her like this.
With my friends.
They are her friends now.
It’s been nearly four months since Abbey came into our lives, and look how loved she already is. Look at the friendships she made. I wonder if she realises she’s already got a new family.
“You have a weird, nostalgic look on your face right now. It’s creepy,” JD chuckles as he sidles up to me.
Dragging my gaze from my wife, I stare at my best mate.
“Glad you didn’t die,” I mutter, and he beams.
“You would have cried.”
“Maybe a little.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “So what’s the plan? You staying here with your woman, or?”
“Where you go, I go, brother,” he reminds me.
It’s not really a club pact unless we’re in trouble. We are each other’s wingmen, but what he’s talking about is nothing more than two mates having each other’s back.
“Well, alright then. I’ll have Lans make up the guest room in the house for you. No need for you two to worry about Riggs and his team out in the barn while you’re in your honeymoon phase.”
JD laughs. “Lans might leave tacks in the bed.”
I shrug. “Probably, but she likes Jols, so maybe just on your side of the bed.”
