Even so, seeing her publicly claimed by another man made him feel like shit.
“Reel it in,” Deuce muttered, “and sit the fuck down. I got a fuck of a lot of shit to fill your sorry ass in on.”
As Deuce headed for his desk, Jase dropped into an armchair and sighed. “’Bout that shit, Prez, I don’t think you should be tellin’ me anything.”
Deuce took his seat, but instead of leaning forward onto his desk like he usually would, he pushed back, folded his arms across his chest, and stared blankly at Jase.
“Yeah?” Deuce asked. “And why’s that? You quittin’ me?”
“I got kids that won’t fuckin’ talk to me,” Jase said, beginning to worry about whether Deuce was going to let him retire in good standing, or boot his ass out of here for being a quitter and force him to cover up his club tattoos.
“Been with you a long time, Prez,” he said nervously. “Half my damn life, just about. I gotta go. I ain’t got no choice. Gotta make this shit right with my girls.”
“So that’s where you’re headed, then? Upstate? Near the college?”
Jase simply nodded.
Unfolding his arms, Deuce sat up and yanked open a drawer that Jase couldn’t see into. He pulled out a pack of smokes, shook one out of the box, and lit it up.
Jase glanced to the door, expecting Eva to charge in here and begin busting the man’s balls, but when nothing happened, he shrugged and looked back to Deuce.
“Don’t give me any bullshit,” Deuce grumbled. “I got two of my boys leavin’ me, think I deserve a fuckin’ smoke.”
Jase wanted to ask who else was leaving, but decided against it. If Deuce allowed him to pull out on good standing, he’d technically still be a member, just a retired one. And being retired from an MC was a hell of a lot like military service—you could be called back to duty at any time if you were needed.
“Ahhh.” Deuce sighed as a long stream of gray smoke poured from between his lips. “Fuckin’ beautiful shit right there.”
Jase stayed silent, letting the man enjoy his cigarette as he glanced around the office for what was more than likely going to be the last time. The thought of leaving, saying good-bye to everything he knew was terrifying, yet at the same time there was a tiny part of him that felt . . . excited at the idea of starting over.
Deuce abruptly stood up, jerking Jase’s attention back to him. “Hand over your cut,” he said, and Jase’s stomach sank.
Slowly he pushed himself out of the chair, and even more slowly, he let the black leather vest slide from his shoulders. He turned, catching it before it could fall to the floor. Then, clutching it in his hands, he stared down at it a moment, at the patches on it, thinking of the million memories such a small scrap of material contained.
“Picture stays on the wall,” Deuce said, regaining Jase’s attention. “Colors stay on your skin. And I ever need your ass, you’re back here faster than shit stains a white fuckin’ carpet, you feel me?”
After stubbing his cigarette out, Deuce headed back around the desk and toward him. Holding out his hand, he said, “Give it here.”
Looking at Deuce, Jase was reminded of his father. Despite aging better than his old man had, Deuce had been like a father to Jase. Saying good-bye to him felt like losing a family member.
Still, he handed over the vest, and once it was in Deuce’s hand, the man turned around and pointed to where Blue’s cut was hanging on the wall above his desk, encased in glass and framed.
“It’s goin’ there, brother,” he said. “You’ll be in good fuckin’ company.”
It was both surprising and heartwarming. To have his cut hung on Deuce’s wall, and near Blue’s, no less? That was an honor of epic proportions, and one given to very few brothers. Jase wasn’t being dismissed or cut off, not at all. He was simply moving on in a way that was reminiscent of leaving your parents’ home once you were old enough, once it was finally time.
And it was time for Jase to move on.
“Thanks, Prez,” Jase said quietly.
“Deuce,” he said, turning back to him and holding out his hand. “My name is Deuce, brother.”
Jase clasped the man’s hand and gave it a firm shake that ended with Deuce pulling him forward into a quick hug. He’d barely had enough time to feel surprised when he was suddenly being pushed away and Deuce was jerking his chin toward the door.
“There’s a fuckin’ party goin’ on out there. Go say good-bye to the boys.”
Jase knew when he was being booted, but he also knew that Deuce, judging by the man’s expression, was only doing so because he needed a moment alone. Whatever was going on that had him hurting, Jase had only added to it.
“And Jase?”
Looking back at Deuce, he arched an eyebrow in question.
Deuce smiled grimly. “Some of the boys might not like what you’re doin’, leavin’ the club and all, but don’t pay ’em no mind. Ain’t nothin’ more important than family. Took me a long fuckin’ time to figure that shit out.”
Closing his eyes, Jase took a deep breath. When he opened them, he gave Deuce a long, hard look, willing himself to be strong. Strong like Deuce always was.
“Thanks, brother.”
“Now go,” Deuce ordered, turning away from him. “Get to livin’ again.”
Jase’s muscles tensed and his jaw locked up tight. He wasn’t going to be a pussy now; he was going to walk out those doors, his head held high, proud of what he was finally getting around to doing. His fucking emotions, goddamn them, were not going to get the better of him this time.
Wrapping his hand on the doorknob, Jase pulled open the door.
“Fucker!” Cage yelled, pointing as he stormed towards him. “What the fuck did you do to my truck? You don’t fuck around with another man’s truck!”
“Stop whinin’!” Ripper shouted from across the room. “Your truck ain’t shit!”
“Jase!” Cox pounded on the bar. “Get your ass over here. I got stories to tell and ain’t nobody listenin’!”
Grinning, Jase closed Deuce’s office door behind him and slowly headed out into the club.
For the last time.
Chapter Twenty
It was being touted as a party, but I knew what the reality of this impromptu get-together at the clubhouse really was. A good-bye party. Everyone had come—the boys, their wives or girlfriends, and all of their children. Even the nomads, the men who didn’t live in Miles City, had shown up.
Feeling pride in Hawk’s sacrifice, his true past all but forgotten, they’d all come to pay their respects, as well as say good-bye to one of their own.
As much as I appreciated their efforts, I didn’t feel much like a party, and so I stayed on the sidelines, avoiding everyone. I wanted nothing more than to be curled up in bed beside Hawk, running my hands over him, every inch of him, memorizing every plane and hollow of his body, the feel of every muscle and bone beneath his skin, every line on his face, every callus on his hands, every hair, both coarse and soft, upon his body.
I wanted to stare at his face, into his eyes, until it was all I could see, so much so that every time I would close my eyes from now until forever, it would be those fiercely handsome, dangerously dark features that would form in the blackness of my subconscious.
I wanted to keep him with me even when he couldn’t be with me himself.
But I wasn’t the only one who loved Hawk and wanted to spend much-needed time with him before he left us. He might have never been much of a talker, always more of doer than the others, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t formed bonds with them over the years.