Skin

Mom and I were sitting together near the pool table. We were sharing a joint, trying not to think about what the rest of our family was doing at that moment. As I blew out a cloud of smoke, I heard a disgusted grunt from beside me. I looked over to see Donna, Opie’s wife, scowling at me as she watched her two children attempt to play a round of billiards.

“Can’t you take that outside? There are children here.”

“The idea of being on lockdown kind of revolves around the idea that we all stay inside of the safe house,” I said.

Donna’s grimace deepened. Since Opie’s incarceration, she had made her disdain for the club absolutely clear. She refused to accept any help, and every chance she got, she tried to get Opie to leave the club. The money was good and the people were dependable; I didn’t get what her problem was.

Mom took the joint from between my fingers and stamped it out in an ash tray. “Sorry, Donna. It’s been awhile since we had to think about the well-being of kids. You guys hungry? We can whip you up something to eat,” she offered kindly. When she felt like it, Mom could be one of the nicest people in Charming. But as soon as she felt that she or her family had been wronged, she was a force to be reckoned with. She was clearly making an effort to get Donna on our side.

“They’re fine,” Donna turned down her offer, and not in a very pleasant way. “They ate before we got drug over here for the night.”

Mom nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright, fine. Let me know if you need anything.”

Tara was sitting alone at another table. She was dressed in her scrubs and looked irritated and inconvenienced by the fact that she was stuck here. I knew that Jax had probably picked her up from the hospital, whether she was done her shift or not.

Half-Sack and Cherry were up at the bar with the three crow eaters that had been hanging around all night. For additional protection, Happy, a member of the nomad chapter of the Sons, had come to town. He was standing by the chapel doors. His jaw was clenched tight as he surveyed the room. I got to my feet and walked over to him.

“How’s the nomad life going?” I asked him, trying to keep a light tone.

His dark eyes flickered over to me. “Same as ever. Trying to keep these assholes from getting themselves killed.”

I laughed at his comment. Happy was a formidable man, but I had grown to enjoy his company over the years. “Well I, for one, am glad to see you.”

“Actually, I’m glad to see you too, kid. I hear you can get yourself one of these now.” He pulled up the front of his white shirt and exposed the collage of happy face tattoos that adorned his muscular stomach. I knew him well enough to know that he’d gotten one of the small, uniform markings each time he killed someone. I knew he had meant the gesture as a compliment, or even as a bit of praise, but the thought didn’t sit very well with me.

“Thanks, but I’m good. What do you think is going on out there?”

Happy wrapped a comforting arm around me. “It’s just dogs marking their territory. They’ll be fine.”

“Sometimes dogs bite,” I replied.

He squeezed my shoulders just a little more tightly. “Who are you worried about?” he asked. His tone was low enough that it wouldn’t attract the attention of anyone else in the room. It was the closest thing that we could have to a private conversation without him leaving his post. “I doubt it’s Jax.”

“Hey,” I whispered back indignantly. “I worry about him, too. I worry about all of them.”

“I’m not judging,” he said with a tiny grin. “I’d worry about you if you were out there. It’s what family does.”

Happy was a man of few words. He didn’t need to say anything more on the subject to get his point across. He knew that something was going on between Juice and I. Maybe Juice had mentioned something, since Happy wasn’t even a member of the same chapter of the club. But still, there was always the idea that he hadn’t said a word. If Happy had picked up on it, I shuddered to think what the rest of the club had figured out.

“Thanks, Hap,” I told him. Somehow, he actually had made me feel better.

As the night wore on, we all had to find places to sleep. Donna and the kids took the bed in the apartment, and Tara took the couch. Mom settled onto the couch in the main room of the bar, muttering darkly to herself about how she had to give up the bed for someone who didn’t even appreciate the gesture.

If I’d been able to drink, I could have passed out anywhere. As it was, I was sober and exhausted, and I wanted nothing more than to go home to Juice’s bed. Instead, I sat down at one of the tables with Happy and prepared to wait out the hours until the guys came back.

“Hey, can we talk?”

I looked up as Kip walked over. “Now?”

He shrugged his lanky shoulders. “Seems as good a time as any.”

I could feel Happy watching the exchange, no doubt waiting to jump in if I appeared to be in distress. “Yeah, let’s get this over with,” I said after a long pause.

Kip and I headed into the chapel, and he let the doors fall closed behind him. I sat in Jax’s chair, as I always seemed to when I came in here. Kip, clearly a creature of habit, sat down in one of the seats along the wall that were designated for prospects.

“It just sort of happened,” he began, sounding apologetic. He raked a hand through his hair as he slumped in his chair. “I never meant for it. I was really going to wait and see if there was any chance to be with you again. But you’ve been living with Juice. You moved on before I did.” There was an accusation in his voice then. He gave me a meaningful look.

I couldn’t deny that I’d been emotionally attached to Juice since before I ever left Kip. But somehow I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t hurt him or let him suffer. I wanted him to be happy, even if it was with some girl who looked like she’d been a crow eater over at Jury’s charter.

I leaned back in the leather chair. “It’s not really like that. It will be, I’m sure. But for now he’s just someone I can depend on. He took me in so that I didn’t have to bother Jax. Kip, I meant it when I said that we should try to be friends. If you pulled me in here to ask for some sort of blessing, it’s all yours. I wish you and Cherry all the best. I hope that you’ll do the same when I figure out whatever this is with Juice.”

Half-Sack chewed at his bottom lip, looking as if he were deep in thought. “So whatever it was that we had, it didn’t really mean anything, did it?”

I tried my best to sound empathetic. “It did. At least we got to know each other, right? We both knew going into it that it wasn’t meant to last. I’m sorry, really, I am. But I warned you that I wasn’t ready and you pushed for it anyways. In fact, I remember specifically calling it a rebound. I care about you, but just not in that way. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

His response came in the form of a very rigid nod of his head. “Right. Just had to check.” He clapped his hands together once and then stood up straight. “These chairs are a lot more comfortable than the ones in the bar. If I were you, I’d consider sleeping in here. The crow eaters aren’t allowed in here, but I’m sure that you’re in the clear.”

I watched him walk away, and I felt that absolutely nothing had been solved. Although it was nice to get everything off of my chest. If nothing else, today had been good for that.

I pulled a second chair closer so I could kick my feet up onto it in an attempt to get more comfortable. Sleep still didn’t seem like an option. I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and stared at it. The last time I’d been on lockdown, I had barely been eighteen. In fact, it hadn’t been long before I’d left town. And when he’d gotten a few spare minutes, Juice had sent me a text message letting me know that everyone was okay. Tonight, the screen of the prepaid cell phone in my hand remained frustratingly blank. That didn’t mean anything, necessarily. Maybe he was just too busy to reach out to me. I set the burner on the table next to me. Some habits died hard. I’d always been told that prepaid cell phones were safer and untraceable, and to this day they were all I used. It had frustrated the hell out of Trent, but for me it had been a bit of normalcy in an entirely new life.

I slouched down in the chair, but I couldn’t find a comfortable position. This was going to be a long night.

I managed to doze off somewhere around three in the morning, and it wasn’t much later that I was jerked into consciousness by the sound of the clubhouse door slamming shut. I stumbled to my feet and reached the chapel doors just as Clay went tearing past me toward the kitchen. The crow eaters were sprawled out across the pool table and bar stools, and Happy and Kip both looked wide awake, ready for action. Clay re-emerged in the bar with the first aid kit tucked under his arm.

“Where’s the doctor sleeping?” Chibs’ voice rang out. Mom, who was now sitting up on the sofa, pointed toward the back bedroom. She yawned in exhaustion as he headed off down the hallway.

The first aid kit. The need for Tara. Someone was hurt. I scanned the group. Bobby had his back to me, and he and Jax were hunched over someone who was sitting down at a table near the door. I took a few robotic steps forward them. Who hadn’t I seen? Juice, Opie, Tig, and Piney. I knew before I saw the Mohawk and the tattoos that it was Juice who was sitting at the table.

“Shit,” I swore, rushing over. Tig seemingly appeared out of nowhere and placed a restraining hand on my shoulder.

“He’s fine, calm down.”

“What happened?”

Juice looked over his shoulder. He was pale, but he managed to give me a wink. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.”

I slipped out of Tig’s grip and stalked over to the rest of the guys. Bobby stepped back, knowing full well that I was going to just push my way in anyways. Juice was holding tight to his right bicep with his left hand. Crimson was dripping from between his fingers, which were turning white from the pressure he was putting on the wound. I dropped to my knees to get a closer look.

“Jesus. It sure doesn’t look like you’re fine,” I grumbled. “What happened?”

“I got grazed by a bullet. Relax, Lex. It could have been worse.”

I stood up straight, irritated by his dismissive attitude. “Yeah, it could have been worse,” I agreed stiffly.

Jax reached over Juice’s head and took me carefully by the elbow. His blue eyes focused on me intently. He was trying to pass some sort of message over to me, but I just wasn’t up to trying to figure it out. He was likely attempting to get me to understand that things really could have turned out a lot differently. The bullet hadn't even actually entered his body, if Juice was telling the truth about just being grazed by it. If I’d been a little less tired, I might have been a bit more open to thinking in that way.

“I didn’t bring my kit,” Tara was protesting as Chibs led her out from the apartment. “I’m not prepared to fix anybody up.”

“It’s just a few stitches,” Chibs argued. “We have a first aid kit. We have faith in you.”

I moved aside, letting Tara have more space to look at Juice’s injury. He removed his hand, and a long cut emerged that sliced his bicep in half horizontally. Blood swelled from it and began dripping down his arm. Tara rummaged through the first aid kit, which Clay had abandoned on the table in front of Juice. She tore open a package of sterile gauze and worked to stop the bleeding.

It must have been a pretty well-stocked first aid kit, as soon Tara was digging out a needle and thread. I wondered if it was actual surgical thread, or if it would cause us problems when we had to get it removed from Juice’s skin. I hadn’t realized that I was pacing until Bobby reached out to stop me.

“Wearing a hole in the floor won’t help anything.”

I looked up at him, hoping that he would be able to understand how helpless I felt. He looked sympathetic, but I knew that he didn’t really get it. He was used to this kind of thing. It was going to take some adjusting for me.

“Baby, come sit with me,” Mom said. I reluctantly retreated to the sofa and sat next to my mother. She pulled me against her, embracing me and pulling my hair back. “He’s fine. He’s walking and talking; that’s better than a lot of possibilities.”

“I know,” I managed to say. “I’m glad he’s going to be okay.”

I sat in anxious silence while Tara finished what she was doing. I watched from afar as she dabbed antiseptic on the freshly-closed wound, then bandaged it all up. Juice flexed the fingers of his right hand, testing the circulation and muscle function.

“Thanks, doc,” he said happily. He looked back at me, waiting for a reaction. I managed to smile encouragingly at him, though I wasn’t really feeling it. He let out a breath, but it didn’t sound relieved in the least. He got up from the table and waved for me to follow him as he ducked outside.

Mom nudged me, encouraging me to chase after him. After a moment of internal contemplation, I left the clubhouse.

Juice was sitting on the top planks of one of the picnic tables, his feet resting on the bench. He was lighting a cigarette and as I joined him, he held out his lighter. I noticed that he’d left his pack of smokes on the table beside him, so I stole one for myself and lit it.

“Going to say anything?” he asked, leaning forward so that his forearms balanced on his knees.

I shrugged. “Not much to say, is there? You’re fine.” I took a drag of the cigarette.

“But you don’t seem to be,” Juice noted.

“What if it had been worse?” My words came out more angry than I’d intended. “What if you hadn’t just been grazed by that bullet? What if you’d died? What then?”

He grinned to himself. “I guess I would have really regretted not having sex with you earlier today.”

“Funny,” I said dryly.

“Well, I thought so.”

“I’m not kidding here, Juice. I forgot what this is like. I really didn’t miss waiting up all night just to see if everyone was going to make it home. I don’t know how to do this anymore,” I blurted. A breeze floated on the air and whipped my hair around my face. Juice reached over and tucked the strands securely behind my ears.

“You’d make it. Look at everything you’ve lived through. I know that you’re having a rough time, but you would survive. You’d still have everyone else.”

I felt a sickening surge of despair within me. I shook my head. “I just got you. I can’t lose you already.”

“What makes you so sure that you’ve got me?”

This time, his grin was contagious. “Are you implying that I don’t?”

The smirk seemed to stutter on his face before it faded away completely. “I didn’t know that you even wanted me,” he admitted sincerely.

“God, you really are an idiot,” I murmured.

I dropped my cigarette onto the cement beneath the picnic table, even though it wasn’t even close to being finished. I grabbed fistfuls of the front of his cut and yanked him over to me. Our lips crashed together haphazardly.

“So does this mean that you want to be my old lady?” he asked hopefully, pulling away.

I thought about all of the reasons why it would be a bad idea to make things official. And then I remembered that I was never one for listening to reason. Besides, drawing it out would only make things worse in the end.

“Yeah, I guess that’s what it means.”