“Can I help you?” The receptionist eyes us suspiciously. Her gaze runs down Mik’s form, stopping on his President’s patch and then the Black Shamrocks MC insignia below it. Turning up her nose, she looks down at her clipboard and sniffs. “I think you might have the wrong place. We’re a rehabilitation facility.”
Joel laughs at her, “Really? Looking at you, I thought we’d stumbled on a brothel.”
My little brothers look at Joel, then fall around laughing like a pair of lunatics. Seeing the receptionist’s cheeks turning red and her mouth drop open, I step forward and put an end to the showdown. “We’re here for family day. Benjamin O’Brien’s family.”
Unable to resist a dig of my own, I smile with feigned innocence. “I’m sure you’ll find our names at the top of your little clipboard—considering the sizeable donation the Black Shamrocks MC made to your institution as a thank you for taking my brother at such short notice.”
Without waiting for an answer, I grab Mik’s hand and shepherd my brothers in the direction that the family day signs point us. Entering a large room filled with people, it’s easy to find Benji since he towers over most of the crowd. He’s standing in the middle of the room with Lacey and her family. Extricating himself from his girlfriend’s embrace when he sees us, he strides toward us with a long, lanky, grace. I fall back, expecting Benji to greet our brothers first.
He doesn’t. Wrapping long arms around my waist, he hugs me to him. My feet leave the ground, and I hiss when my barely healed ribs let me know that they’re still a little bit sore. None of that stops me from returning his fierce embrace with one of my own. The man holding me feels like my brother—not the stranger that we’ve had in his place for the past six or so years. He’s filled out, feeling like the star footballer he used to be, and he smells good. There’s no comparison to the mess he was before he checked into rehab.
“I’m so fucking sorry, lil sis.” Benji breathes his apologies against my hair. “Gonna spend the rest of my life making it all up to you.”
Tears make my eyes prick. I make myself fight them back. I know how uncomfortable any emotional outburst makes my twin. Instead, I dig my fingers into his ribs and force out a giggle. “That’s enough of the lil sis business. You know I’m seven—”
Benji sets me on my feet and laughs. “Minutes older and about seventy years wiser, I’ve discovered.”
Spying the tears in his eyes, I reach up and brush away one that starts to roll down his cheek. “This is new. I think it’s going to take some getting used to.”
My twin fights back the remainder of his tears, his voice cracking when he tries to make light of it. “You think it’s weird for you? Try being me. There’s nothing sexy about red eyes and cracked lips. It’s ruining my game.”
Laughing, I step back from Benji and usher my brothers forward to say hello. Mik holds back, running a hand down my side. “Ribs still sore?”
Not wanting to add to his guilt over them, I smile broadly, “No, they’re fine. I wasn’t expecting to be grabbed in a bear hug, that’s all.”
“Liar,” he whispers in my ear, brushing past me to greet Benji.
Once the greetings are out of the way, we’re led into a room with plastic chairs in a circle. A tall skinny man introduces himself as Benji’s counsellor and tells us to take a seat. We do, an awkward reluctance filling the atmosphere. My youngest brother loses the fight to sit on Benji’s free side. Joel’s claimed one side, leaving Matty and Lachie to fight over the other. Mik intervenes, grabbing Lachie by the collar and tugging him into the empty seat next to us. “For fuck sake, you’re sixteen, try acting your age for once.”
Biting my bottom lip, I find it hard to work out if I’m about to laugh or cry at Mik acting like Lachie’s dad. Ever since our dad ran back to our family farm after his deception was discovered and he lost his Shamrocks membership, Lachie and Matty have lived with me. Taking the position as their mother has been a natural transition for me; I’ve been doing it since our mum died. Wendy has been a mother figure as well—as has Mama C. But, the dad role was always filled by our father—once he pulled himself back together after his extended mourning period. Seeing Mik step into his shoes, along with his position as head of the Shamrocks, is more than strange; it’s downright confusing.
Matty flips his middle finger at Lachie, turning white when Mik intercepts it and glares at him. “Remind me again, did you just turn eighteen?”
Dropping his head, embarrassment reddening his cheeks, Matty mumbles, “Yes.”
Mik smirks. “Yeah, I thought so.”
The counsellor speaks up, motioning with his head toward the two empty seats. “Are we waiting for anyone?”
Giving Benji a small smile filled with sympathy, I answer the counsellor. “Ah, no we’re not. Our father is unable to make it and our stepmother sends her apologies. She’s not feeling well, apparently.”
I’ve phone Wendy numerous times recently. She has a million excuses why she can’t come to Brisbane and the same amount of reasons why we can’t visit her. It’s getting beyond a joke. I’m out of ideas for ways to pull her out of her funk over her relationship breakdown. Lost as I am in my own confusion about how to deal with what Dad’s done; I guess I’m not ready to push the point with her either.
“Let’s start then.” The counsellor gestures to Benji. “This is your meeting. It’s your chance to get all the things we’ve discussed off your chest. I’m going to ask you to speak first, then I’ll open the floor to your family.”
Benji lets out a noisy breath. He laces his hands and puts them behind his head. Cerulean blue eyes that are the exact copy of mine search my face for a moment, before he drops his hands into his lap. “First up, I want to apologise to Maddi. Too much shit’s gone down to mention it all. Just know that I’m fucking sorry for everything I’ve done that contributed to you choosing to cover my ass and get yourself hurt in the process.”
I nod; nose tingling, a lump forming in my throat, tears threatening—it’s impossible to speak. The strict code of silence that surrounds the Shamrocks makes it impossible for Benji to be completely honest with his counsellor. Through our twin connection, I try to convey how much I appreciate the fine line he’s dancing by trying to get the most out of rehab while still protecting the Club—and me. His twin sister: rape survivor, blackmail victim, and unconvicted murderer.
“My actions also caused you to get hurt.” Benji turns to Joel, who visibly recoils. “Then my addiction meant that I was so far in my own head that I didn’t give you the support a big brother should once we knew how fucked-up you were going to be. I should’ve made you complete your physio—fuck, I should have carried your stubborn ass there myself.”
Joel tries to push to his feet. Benji stops him with one strong arm, pinning him in his seat. “You don’t get to leave because you’ve heard something you don’t like. It’ll do you good to know what it feels like to have someone spitting truth’s that you don’t want to accept at you.”
We all break into laughter. Joel’s well known for his sage advice. He’s equally well-known for not being a great proponent of taking his own wisdom on board.
“Mad Dog.” Benji clears his throat. Letting go of Joel, he straightens his shoulders. Mik stiffens next to me, appearing as uneasy with what’s to come as Benji is. I take hold of his hand and stroke his calloused palm with my thumb. “It’ll take me years to make amends for everything that went down between us. Just know that I’m going to try. Brother.”
That’s it. I can’t hold back my tears anymore. Twin trails of warm liquid run down my face. I let go of Mik’s hand to press both of mine over my mouth. I’m a Club daughter. Born and bred. I was raised with this Club. To an outsider the simple word might not mean anything. To me, that word heralds a minor miracle. To hear Benji admit out loud the relationship between him and Mik breaks my heart—in the best way. To me, it gives me the best of both worlds. My man and my brother, on the same page, loving each other as family, once again.
Mik squeezes my thigh. With a simple nod of his head, then uttering one word, he ends the divide that’s been between them. “Brother.”
I sob louder. Lachie groans and rolls his eyes at me while Matty and Joel send understanding smiles my way. They understand what this means. Benji reaches over and ruffles Matty’s hair. “Now, it’s your turn, beansprout. I’ve wasted your teens getting off my head and not paying you the attention you deserved.”
He pokes his tongue out at Lachie, who’s sitting in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, annoyance at not being recognised by his big brother written all over his face. “Both of you. When I get out of here in a couple of weeks, I’m going to be the brother that I should’ve been. Playing footy with you, kicking your ass on the PlayStation, and just generally being there. When you’re ready to prospect, I’ll be your mentor and your biggest goddamn cheerleader. I’m gonna have my nose stuck so far into your lives that you’re both gonna get fucking sick of me.”
He leans back in his seat. Being honest has drained him, his eyes showing the strain of owning up to his faults. Benji’s counsellor leans forward, his expression full of confusion. “That’s it? You’re done, Benjamin?”
“Yeah, I’m done.”
The counsellor looks at all of us, one at a time. “Are you satisfied with what your brother had to say?”
“Yep.” We all say at once.
“Does anyone have anything to add to his confession? Anything to ask of him?”
“Nope.”
The counsellor shakes his head, then hits us all with a baleful scowl. “This is the strangest session I’ve ever been part of.” He stands, holding out his hand to Benji, who takes hold of it and gives the most cursory shake. “I’ll leave you alone for the remainder of the scheduled time. I’d advise using it to go over some details.”
He leaves the room, his heavy step telegraphing his disgruntled attitude for us all. When the door closes behind him, five heads swivel toward Benji. He shrugs, and we all start laughing. I’m sure the poor counsellor couldn’t make head nor tail of half of what Benji said.
“Well, now that’s over. Fill me in on what I’ve been missing.”
Lachie and Matty start talking at once about football and girls until Mik cuts in. “While I’ve got you all here, I need to pass on a message.”
Quiet fills the room, worry overtaking the atmosphere. My brothers look at me as if I hold the answers. Lifting my shoulders and my eyebrows, I let them know that I don’t have any more clue than they do.
“What message,” Joel breaks the silence.
“Beast has sent a message to the Club through Conan and my dad.”
I hold my breath. For Dad to go to the effort of sending us a message after we’ve all changed our numbers and moved into a new house, he was running the risk of a very hostile reception from Viking and Conan. It also means that it’s probably something we don’t want to know.
“What did he say?” I ask.
“He needs you all to meet him at the hospital after lunch in a couple of weeks.”
“Because he’s sick?”
“He refused to say why, Angel. Dad said all he’d say is that it concerns Wendy.”
My brothers curse. The worry in the room kicks up to a higher level and my heart sinks into my shoes. “If it’s for Wendy, I’ll go.”
Once I’ve agreed, my brothers follow suit, just like I knew they would. It’s going to suck seeing our father after all these months, but Wendy is worth it. She’s looked after us since we were little, always treating us as if we were her true children. Eyeing my brothers one after the other, I tell them with unusual seriousness. “It’s the least we can do.”
Four heads nod their agreement right away.
“Good.” I turn to Mik. “Tell him we’ll be there. Make it clear that if this turns out to be a way to get back into our good books, he’s doomed to failure.”
Mik’s gaze speaks of his pride at my reaction. Four voices echoing their agreement with my sentiments.
“That’s settled then.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MIK
Sprinting down the corridors of the hospital, I come a skidding halt when a crowd of people get in my way.
“Move, fuck you,” I growl. Ignoring the judgement on their faces, I push around them and keep running for room seven-oh-five. When the call came through an hour ago that my dad was being taken by ambulance to the hospital, my heart had skipped a beat then restarted at three-times its normal speed. It hasn’t slowed down since. Please, don’t let this be the end, I pray. I’m not fucking ready to lose him.
Spying the number that I’m looking for on a door ahead of me, I slow my pace and try to catch my breath. My hand is raised, ready to push the door open when I hear Lainey’s soft voice. “So, you agree with Mik? My father should die for what he’s done?”
Dad’s voice is hoarse, although stronger than I expected, when he answers her. “Of course, he should. He knew what the outcome would be when he chose to betray the Club.”
“Why did you vote against it then?”
“Because as much as I love you, kiddo, you’re the most headstrong person I know. You need time to come to terms with what needs to happen and we all know pushing you only makes you dig your heels in deeper. I brought my son time.” He pauses, out of breath, and then has a coughing fit.
A smile curls my lips at his accurate assessment of my woman then dims when I hear Lainey fussing over him. “I’m sorry. I should be letting you rest, not playing twenty questions.”
“Oh, hush. I’m glad we’re having this chat. Pity, I had to nearly die to get you on your own. You don’t come to me for advice as much as you used to.”
“It’s hard, Viking.” Lainey sniffs. “You remind me too much of my mum.”
“I know,” he agrees. “It’s the same for Mik. He looks at me, but he doesn’t really see me, anymore.”
A strangled cry that comes all the way from my heart tries to choke me. I back away from the door and rest my forehead against the cold wall next to it. Guilt weighs me down, pressing against my chest and making it hard to breathe. I feel like a fucking prick. Here I was, thinking I was hiding it from him, when he already knew.
“I promise I’ll come to you more.” Lainey’s voice is quieter now; the extra distance making it harder to hear her. “Tell me how I make myself okay with what Mik wants. I told him that I’d think about it, that I’d try to understand, but I’m failing miserably. Even though, all I do is think about what he wants.”
“The only advice I have for you is—” He trails off, barely fighting back another choking episode. Once he has it under control, he sounds weaker when he speaks. “You need to look closer. The answer to your question is right under your nose, in fact, it practically has its back to you. You’ll find it buried under a shitload of pride.”
Some of my guilt lifts. The cheeky bugger is an expert at meddling. He’s playing on Lainey’s soft heart, at the same time as he’s dropping hints about where she should look for answers. That’s what I get for spilling my guts to him and expecting him to heed my wishes. Something that’s never been his fucking forte.
“Knock, knock.” I push the door open and put an end to their chat. Lainey is crying. Dad, on the other hand, stares at me like I’ve just ruined his favourite game. Apart from the nasal cannula that’s attached to his face, he looks the same as he did when I saw him last night when we got back from family day at Benji’s rehab. Knocking on death’s door, but unwilling to give up. “How you feeling, Dad?”
Pulling Lainey out of the sole chair in the room, I sit her on my lap once I’m comfortable. Rubbing her stomach gently, I try not to laugh when Dad lies back in his bed and flutters the back of his hand onto his forehead. If I hadn’t heard him with my own ears, I’d never have guessed his reaction is over his annoyance at being interrupted while he was sticking his nose where it shouldn’t be—I’d have mistaken his expression for pain. “Feel like shit, son.
”
“What happened?”
“He couldn’t breathe,” my woman speaks up in a wobbly voice, wiping her face. “I tried to resuscitate him, but he kept turning blue so I called an ambulance.”
“Must have been serious if Lainey’s lips on yours couldn’t help,” I joke. She slaps my hands. Dad chuckles from the bed.
“I was so scared,” she confesses, tears flowing again. “When I told Dane to ring you, I wasn’t sure if the ambulance was going to get us to the hospital in time.”
The panic that had hold of me as I ran through the hospital returns. My right leg starts bouncing of its own accord. Something it only does when I’m stressed or about to hurt someone. Lainey shuffles her position on my lap, so she can put all her weight onto that leg. Twisting to face me, she tells me off. “Stop it.”
I force myself to stop like she demands, grimacing when it starts again the second I my mind wanders. Lainey grabs my face in both her hands, and once I’m looking at her, she speaks. “He’s fine. They put him on oxygen and got him breathing.”
Swallowing the lump that’s growing in my throat, I ask the question I don’t really want an answer to. “Scar tissue?”
Her mouth droops, and she drops my gaze. “Worse. Much, much worse.”
“How long?” I ask.
“How about you stop talking about me like I’m not in the bloody room,” my cranky-ass father interjects.
“I want the truth, not your fairy tale bullshit. At least, Lainey will tell me how it is.”
“Pfft,” Dad waves his hand at me, then flips me the bird. “Let me tell you what the doctors said.”
He holds up his hand and counts out his points on each finger.
“One. They told me I’d be dead in six months. Over six fucking years ago.”
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