Going Rogue

by Chantal Fernando

  “So they aren’t members but they want to be?” I ask him, trying to understand the dynamics.

  “We were all once a prospect,” he explains, pouring me a drink. “You do your time, proving yourself to the club before you are patched in. We can’t let just anyone in, so this way we can see their character and test their abilities. Only certain kind of men can be Cursed Ravens. Jasper is going to be patched in soon. He’s been with us just over a year now, and we trust him with our lives.”

  “So no women are allowed in? That’s kind of sexist, don’t you think?”

  “We should start our own MC!” Erin calls out to me over the table. “Me, you, and Celina. What do you think?”

  “I think I need to learn how to ride,” I tell her, ignoring the look Rogue is currently giving me. “What are we going to call ourselves?”

  “Something Ravens,” she replies, snickering at Ace. “Is your name trademarked? We could use, like, Blessed Ravens or something. Graceful Ravens? Dark Ravens? Come on, throw ideas at me, people. Also, yes, I’m the only one who can ride right now, so Celina, you and Zoe need to step it up and learn. I’ll teach you if you like. It’s easy. Oooh, how about Sexy Ravens MC?”

  Ace downs his beer and then murmurs, “I’m going to need more beer for this conversation.”

  “Can a raven really be sexy, though?” Celina asks, wrinkling her nose.

  Erin points to Ace. “Uhh, yeah, a Raven can be sexy. Look at all of our men.”

  We all have a chuckle at that, the men included.

  “That is true,” Celina murmurs, glancing up at Knuckles. “My man is pretty sexy.”

  “And old,” Erin calls out, poking her tongue out at the man she refers to as her bestie.

  I laugh a little too hard at her joke about Knuckles, which seems to get his attention. He looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Zoe, will you come for a walk with me to the kitchen to grab the boys’ bottles?”

  “Why?” I ask him, frowning. Can he not hold two bottles at the same time?

  “Just want to have a little chat with you,” he murmurs, standing up and nodding toward the kitchen.

  I turn to Rogue, who nods. “Go on. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I get up and follow Knuckles into the kitchen, jumping up and sitting on the counter and watching him make two bottles of milk.

  “You’re angry at me for what happened during our midnight snack,” he comments, turning his bearded face toward me.

  “I’m not angry,” I deny, sitting back and lifting my chin up. “I guess I just trusted you to keep our conversation between us, and instead you embarrassed me in front of Rogue. You didn’t have to say something to him while we were all there; that was kind of awkward.”

  “Why would you get awkward in front of your man?” he asks, studying me with wise brown eyes. “I did what I did to put everything out in the open, Zoe. Just keeping it real between all of us.”

  “I know I shouldn’t have asked you—trust me, Rogue drilled that into me afterward,” I admit to him, wincing. “This whole thing is being blown out of proportion. It was meant to be a little chat, not some huge deal.”

  “It’s not a huge deal,” Knuckles assures me, moving closer to me with the bottles in his hands. “In fact, I’d pretty much forgotten about it until I realized you wouldn’t even look at me without giving me the evil eye.”

  I soften at his words. “Okay, I was being a little petty. I guess I just felt comfortable enough to talk to you about something, or ask you something, and I know that you’re Rogue’s friend, not mine, but I thought you’d humor me and throw me a bone, not act like I was asking you for his credit card details.”

  “I just thought that you should be asking him,” he says, putting a bottle of milk down and offering me his hand. “Truce?”

  I sigh and take his hand. “Truce.”

  The loyalty in this club runs deep, and I can see that. Feel it.

  Rogue has brought me into this family and made me a part of it. This is nothing like the situation with Fox. The only thing they have in common is their biker lifestyle. Except with Fox, I was never a part of his.

  Rogue is a million times the man Fox was, and everything is out in the open with him. He’s proud of me. He isn’t shy about showing affection in front of his men. It’s a good fucking feeling, knowing that.

  “What’s this? A woman who admits when she’s wrong? I didn’t know that your kind existed,” Knuckles teases, wrapping his arm around me.

  “Very funny.”

  “I am pretty hilarious,” he says with a contented sigh.

  “At least you think so. That’s all that matters.”

  We walk back outside and I resume my spot next to Rogue, who nuzzles my face and gives me a kiss on my cheek, almost saying thank you. I know it must be important to him that I get along with his men, and that I genuinely like them and care for them. At the end of the day, they come as a package deal. To accept Rogue, I must accept them all. I get it now.

  I glance across the table, taking in this crazy group.

  Yeah, I could be a part of this.

  I smile and lean back against Rogue. “I love you,” I tell him, and then suddenly feel everyone’s eyes on me. I didn’t even think, I just said it, and what should have been a private moment has now been shared with the peanut gallery.

  “I love you too, Zoe,” Rogue replies, clearly not caring who sees or hears, and pulls me on top of him and kisses me deeply.

  Everyone cheers and catcalls, and I can’t help but smile against those perfect lips of his.

  I’m in love with Ezekiel Kennedy.

  And he happens to love me back.

  19

  When I get to Mrs. K’s room the next morning, the doctor is just leaving, and Mrs. K is hooked up to some tubes, so I stop to ask him what happened.

  “She had a mild heart attack this morning,” he tells me, frowning. “She has shortness of breath, but she claims to be feeling okay now. I don’t know how much longer her heart is going to hold out.”

  I thank him and enter her room. I wonder if they called Rogue and told him what happened. I decide to send a quick message and let him know, just in case they didn’t.

  “How are you doing, Mrs. K?” I ask her as I bring in her food. “I heard you didn’t have the best morning.”

  I expect her to wave her hand in the air and tell me she’s fine or make some smart-ass comment, but instead she looks at me solemnly.

  “I’m not going to live much longer,” she tells me, looking me dead in the eye. “I can’t go on like this, Zoe. All I’m doing is playing the waiting game. Do you know what that feels like? My heart is going to give out, I know it. It’s just a matter of time.”

  She touches her nose, where the tubes start. “This is practically breathing for me right now. I’ve done my time, and I’m ready to go on to something bigger and better.”

  I don’t know what to say to her. She’s right, I don’t know what it feels like, and I can’t just tell her everything is going to be okay because it’s not. She’s going to die, and she’s going to hurt people in the process, people who love her and don’t want her to leave this world.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I tell her, sitting down beside her bed and touching her arm. This isn’t the first time I’ve watched someone die, and it’s not going to be the last time, but this is the mother of the man I love, and also a woman I’ve come to admire. She has such fire and spirit. I can understand how agonizing the predicament must be.

  “If it gets to the stage where I’m put on life support, which is highly likely, I want you to do something for me, Zoe, okay?” she whispers, and I stand up and lower my head to hear her. “I can’t live like this. The kindest thing you can do for me is pull out the life support and let me go. I’m ready to go,” she says, tears pooling in her eyes. “My mind is fracturing, and my body is just sitting here, and this is not how I want to be remembered. It’s not how I want my son to see me. Please, only you can save me
from this.”

  I straighten, swallowing hard and glancing around the room to make sure no one else is here.

  She wants me to take her off life support and pretend like nothing happened.

  Rogue’s mother is begging me to let her die.

  “Mrs. K, you need to talk about this with your son. He is your next of kin, and I’m sure there’s a better way than this—”

  She holds her hand up to stop me. “No, I can’t. Zeke won’t hear a word of it. And because of my head issues, I can’t go the legal route. So you’re my only option.”

  “I . . . I can’t do that, Mrs. K,” I tell her, feeling like crying. “How can you ask me to do that? I’ll do anything you want, but not that.”

  “You’re strong enough to handle this,” she tells me, her eyes pleading with me. “I’m begging you, and I’ve never begged in my entire fucking life. I need this to end. The pain, it’s like torture. Let me leave this world with some dignity, please.”

  I pace in a little circle, not knowing what to do with the hand she’s dealt me. There’s no way I can do what she’s asking, but I can’t look into her eyes and tell her no either. I kind of want to walk out and cry, but that’s not going to fix anything, and I don’t want her any more upset than she already is.

  I can’t win here.

  I turn back to her and take a deep breath. “I have to get back to work, but you finish eating your lunch, and I will talk to you later, okay?”

  “Okay,” she replies, eyes softening. “Just think about it.”

  I force a nod and rush out, stepping outside for some fresh air. I don’t smoke, but I feel like I need a cigarette, stress filling me.

  “Hey, I got your message,” Rogue says as he rushes up the pathway. “No one even called to tell me. I’m going to abuse someone, because you’d think they’d call if my mother was having a fucking heart attack.”

  He has a right to be angry, but right now I’m in shock and unable to process his feelings because mine are consuming me.

  “Is everything okay? You look a little pale,” he says, cupping my cheek and looking into my eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I reply, forcing a smile. “I just was feeling a little flushed and needed some air.”

  “Do you want me to stay out here with you?”

  “No, no, go inside and see your mom, I’ll be back in there in a second,” I assure him, not wanting him to know that anything is wrong. Is she going to ask the same thing of Rogue that she asked me? Or is she only asking me because I’m not family? Rogue kisses my forehead and heads inside to see his mom, and probably yell at my boss, while I replay the conversation I had with Mrs. K over and over in my head. I can’t forget the desperation in her eyes—she really means what she said. She doesn’t want to fight for her life if it comes to that. I want to tell Rogue, but I can only imagine how upset this is going to make him. Maybe she will just forget about this altogether? Forget she mentioned it. I’m going to hope that that is the case. I make myself go back to work and distract myself by keeping busy.

  One thing I keep asking myself is, do I tell Rogue and break his heart, or do I just pretend this whole thing never happened?

  “Wow, lemongrass and chili chicken, I’m so surprised,” I tease Vanessa, rolling my eyes as I sit down at her glass table. “You know that when you get married and have kids, you’re going to have to learn how to cook something else, right? You can’t feed your family the same meal every night.”

  “I’ll marry a man who can cook,” she says with a shrug, like it’s no big deal. “I’m not going to be pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen, waiting on a man. He can cook for me and spoil me. I deserve that shit.”

  “Pretty sure it’s a partnership, Vanessa. You both cook, clean, and work. At least that’s how I’d like it to be. Fifty-fifty,” I say, stabbing a piece of the chicken and popping it into my mouth. “At least you’ve mastered this meal. It tastes better every week somehow.”

  “See?” she quickly notes, taking a sip of red wine. “You just complain because you want to. You actually love the chicken, and I know it. It’s why I make it for you every week.”

  “Oh, is that why?” I joke, laughing at her. “I thought it was because this is the only thing that Mom taught you how to make, and aside from this all you can prepare is toast and two-minute noodles.”

  “I could learn more recipes if I wanted to,” she says, getting defensive. “But I live so close to the city, and I’d rather eat out. Cooking every night is for old people.”

  “I cook most nights,” I tell her, scowling.

  “I know,” she replies with a smirk. “How is that man of yours doing? Treating you right? Or do I need to fuck his dad and make him my stepson?”

  I start choking on a mouthful of rice, and she taps me on the back, a little too aggressively. “The shit you say, Vanessa. Besides, I don’t know where his dad is, or who he is, so you won’t be able to find him to . . . fuck him and make Rogue your stepson.”

  “Brothers? Uncles? I’ll find someone in his bloodline and make him pay,” she says casually, like we’re talking about what color is our favorite.

  “You have serious issues,” I deadpan, wrinkling my nose at her. “How are we sisters? We’re polar opposites.”

  “Opposites attract,” she says with a wink, pushing back her chair and standing up, wineglass in hand. “A toast to us. The most beautiful, smart, personality-filled sisters who ever existed.”

  I lean back and stare up at her. “You’re so random.” I stand, my chair scraping on the floor, and clink my glass with hers. “Cheers, sis. Thank you for always being there for me, but I’d appreciate it if you gave me my key back and didn’t ever bring anyone over to fuck on my couch.”

  “You can have your key back,” she says with a shrug, sitting back down and smirking. “I have spares.”

  “Even I don’t have spares,” I tell her, frowning. “No wonder Mom and Dad hardly come visit us. It’s because you’re bat-shit crazy.”

  Our parents live about an hour drive away from here, out of the city. Any time we see them, we have to go to them; they hate venturing out in the busy city traffic and prefer a slower-paced lifestyle.

  “I rang Mom the other day and said I’d visit, are you going to come with me?” I ask.

  “Are you taking Rogue to meet her? Because I’m not missing out on that, she’s going to die,” Vanessa says with glee, rubbing her hands together like Mr. fucking Burns from The Simpsons.

  “No, I’m not taking Rogue to meet them,” I tell her, brow furrowing as I give her an Are you kidding me look. “They can meet him if we ever get married. Other than that, there’s no reason for it.”

  “Valid point,” Vanessa says, nodding in agreement.

  Our parents don’t understand casual dating, so if we ever brought someone home, they’d just assume we’re going to marry this person. They’re kind of old-school and traditional, and were quite strict with us, growing up. Not that you’d be able to tell, with the way both of us act now, but maybe that’s part of why we can be so crazy.

  “Although you’ve already met his mom,” she points out, tapping her long pink fingernails on the table.

  “Yeah, but that was a coincidence. So what happened to good old Matt?” I ask her, referring to the man I caught her with. “He hasn’t dropped by looking for you, so that’s a good sign, right?”

  “No, but he’s called and messaged me a million times,” she says, rolling her eyes and placing her hand on her chest. “I mean, if I don’t reply the first few times, you’d think he’d get the hint, right?”

  “Why don’t you just message him and tell him you aren’t interested?” I ask, bringing my wineglass to my lips. “Just be honest. It saves him from wondering what he did wrong.”

  “Do men even wonder about that shit? I thought that was just women.”

  I tilt my head to the side and ponder her words. “Touché.”

  “So when am I going to meet this new biker family of yours?
” she asks me, wiggling her brows. “And is the president hot?”

  “Yeah, he is, actually—I mean, for an old guy,” I tell her. “Umm, I don’t know. I’ll organize something and let you know, though.”

  “Sounds good,” she says, flashing her straight white teeth at me. “Who knew I’d be meeting a clubhouse of hot men through my boring sister?”

  “I’m not boring anymore,” I tell her with a wide grin. “I might even be the fun sister.”

  “Okay, let’s not be ridiculous,” she replies, her face serious.

  I laugh at her, and she joins in.

  Good luck to the Cursed Ravens when they meet her.

  20

  I’m late to work the next morning, but when I step inside the doors, I see something that makes me grind my teeth. Rogue is standing there, glancing down at his phone, while Marissa talks his ear off. His body language is saying he’d rather be elsewhere, but he’s still standing there with her. He lifts his head and smiles when he sees me, and while I didn’t want anyone at work knowing my personal business, or that I was dating a resident’s family member, I walk over to him and say hello.

  “I was waiting for you,” he murmurs, clearly not caring who hears.

  “I’m running a little late this morning,” I tell him.

  Marissa glances between the two of us. “You two know each other? How? It can’t be from the clubhouse parties, because Zoe is way too straitlaced for those.”

  Wait, what?

  Clubhouse parties?

  I look to Rogue, waiting for him to offer up some sort of explanation, but all he says is “Don’t you have some work to do, Marissa?”

  I don’t like the way he says her name—like he’s familiar with her. Like this isn’t the first time they’ve spoken. And if she knows about the clubhouse parties, I’m guessing it isn’t. Marissa must have been there at one point; she’s probably one of the biker groupies who go there to sleep with the men. Out of all the women in the city, why did I have to work with one?

  “I have the same amount of work that Zoe—”