Page 52 of Doc
For a long moment, he simply studied my face, as if searching for something specific in my features.Then, he offered a gruff nod.
“Your uncle would’ve been proud,” he said, the words carrying clearly in the suddenly quiet room.Before I could respond -- before I could even process what had just happened -- he turned and walked away, rejoining the group by the window as if he hadn’t just publicly acknowledged me in a way I hadn’t dared hope for.
I stood frozen, stunned by the simple declaration and what it represented.Not just tolerance or grudging acceptance, but recognition.Validation that went beyond my connection to Doc or even to Bats.Recognition of what I’d done, what I’d risked, what I’d helped accomplish.
Doc’s fingers squeezed my waist gently, and I glanced up to find him watching me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.He’d understood what had just happened -- what Tempest’s words meant coming from a man who rarely offered praise to anyone, let alone an outsider.
“Told you,” Doc murmured, his voice too low for anyone else to hear.
As the meeting continued around us, I felt something subtle shift inside me.The room still held dangers and uncertainties.These men were still largely strangers, their world foreign to everything I’d known before.
* * *
I’d escaped outside when Savior had called Church.Doc explained I wasn’t allowed to join them.Just as well.
The worn wooden bench creaked beneath me as I shifted my weight.Evening had settled over the compound, painting the sky in deepening shades of blue and purple.I’d escaped the tension of the clubhouse, needing air that didn’t smell of leather and whiskey, needing space to think without feeling as if I were under surveillance.In the distance, motorcycle engines rumbled as Prospects patrolled the perimeter, the sound oddly comforting after everything we’d been through.I belonged nowhere and everywhere at once -- too deep in this world to return to my old life, too much an outsider to truly claim this one.
The sound of the clubhouse door opening pulled me from my thoughts.I didn’t need to look up to know it was Doc -- I’d learned to recognize his footsteps, the rhythm of his movement.
“Thought I might find you out here,” Doc said, his voice warm in the cooling evening air.
I glanced up then, unable to resist the pull of his presence.“Needed some air.”
Doc settled beside me on the bench, his larger frame dwarfing mine, the warmth of him immediately noticeable in the evening chill.For a moment, we sat in companionable silence, watching as security lights blinked on around the compound perimeter.
“I still feel like I don’t belong here,” I finally admitted, the words barely loud enough to reach him despite our proximity.“I’ve caused them nothing but trouble.”
I felt his gaze on me but couldn’t bring myself to look up.Instead, I stared out at the compound -- this strange, insular world with its own rules and codes that I was still learning to navigate.
“After what you did, you’ve earned your place.”His shoulder pressed against mine, solid and reassuring.“You stood your ground when most people would’ve run, faced down Wallace, and helped save those girls.”
I shook my head, unconvinced.“That doesn’t make me one of them.One night of shared danger doesn’t erase the fact that I’m still an outsider.Still just the niece of a man I seldom met.”
Doc’s hand covered mine, his palm warm and calloused.“The club has accepted outsiders before.People who proved their worth, who showed they understood what matters most -- loyalty, sacrifice, family.”
“Is that what you see me as?Family?”The question came out more vulnerable than I’d intended, revealing the deeper uncertainty I hadn’t even fully acknowledged to myself.
His fingers tightened around mine.“I see you as more than that, Nova.”
There was something in his voice that made me finally look up, meeting his gaze.The intensity I found there stole my breath -- not just warmth or affection, but something deeper, something that made my heart stutter in my chest.
Doc’s free hand came up to gently turn my face more fully toward his, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone with a tenderness that belied the strength I knew his hands possessed.“I want you to stay.Not just for the club.For me.”
My breath caught, the simple declaration hitting harder than any elaborate speech could have.For weeks we’d danced around this -- the connection that had grown between us through danger and desperation, through quiet moments in safe houses and the silent understanding that had formed somewhere between his first defiance of the club for me and the bullet he’d taken to protect me.
“Doc…” I whispered, not sure what else to say, how to respond to the naked honesty in his eyes.
“Winston,” he corrected softly.“When it’s just us, I want to hear my name from you.”
The intimacy of that simple request made my chest tighten.In this world of road names and personas, he was offering me something private, something real.I’d called him by his name several times already, until I’d learned more about road names and how they were earned.His thumb traced the edge of my jaw, and I found myself leaning into his touch, seeking the connection like a flower turning toward the sun.
“Winston, I’m scared.Of staying.Of going.Of wanting things I’m not sure I can have.”
He leaned closer, his forehead touching mine in that now-familiar gesture that somehow felt more intimate than a kiss.“What do you want, Nova?”
“You,” I answered before I could second-guess myself, the truth spilling out in that single syllable.“But I don’t know how to be part of… this.”I gestured vaguely toward the clubhouse.“Your world.The club.I don’t know the rules, the expectations.”
His gaze never left mine, our foreheads still touching, breath mingling in the small space between us.“We figure it out together.Day by day.You learn what you need to know, and I learn how to help you find your place.”
