Page 46 of Zeppelin (Satan’s Angels MC #9)

One Year Later

Zeppelin

T he club was, and always has been, there for me.

It was me who had to change. I didn’t truly understand the meaning of brotherhood until I no longer had a brother on this earth.

I couldn’t understand companionship when I was too busy being one of a set.

I didn’t know how closed off I was until I split wide open, like granite rock revealing its quartz. Diamonds from coal, and all that.

Not that I’m a diamond.

But I now know how to appreciate them. I know how to love them, how to be continuously amazed at the generosity and the good hearts of the people around me.

Tyrant, who has a gift for gathering people around and loving them no matter how rough around the edges they are.

Raiden, who so reluctantly took the VP position, and is the best one we ever could have asked for.

Over the past few years, I’ve watched so many of my club brothers fall in love.

It’s changed who they are, all of it for the better.

I used to poke fun at it because I didn’t understand.

I was never mean about it, but I was an asshole.

I can laugh looking back, at all the times I thought and said it would never happen to me.

It’s true what they say, about never being a long time.

And I’m so fucking glad.

I’m glad for these early moments before sunrise, for the beautiful woman sleeping soundly beside me, for the five month old baby boy in his crib across from us.

Just like words can never properly convey the true majesty of a sunrise or a sunset, or that tiny feeling you get standing under a wide open sky filled with innumerable stars at night, there are no words to describe what I feel for Ginny and Jackson.

No one is perfect, but to me, they are and always will be.

I stretch out on my side, lifting an arm overhead to work out the kinks in my shoulder and neck.

Ever since I made the decision to turn around and come back, I’ve been doing four days in Hart and three out here at the acreage.

It means working doubly hard during those four days, but I don’t mind.

The commute heading back to Hart is always tough, but as soon as I leave to be out here, I take those hours as a sort of meditation, and they never seem so long that way.

“Hey.” Ginny blinks sleepily, but even in the predawn grayness clinging to the sky outside, and the low light in here, her eyes sparkle with amber flecks. “Are you worried about all the hampers we have to pack today?”

“Nope. I’m happy to do it with you.”

We pioneered the idea last fall, and the demand almost exceeded Ginny and her mom’s supply. That was really saying something, given just how much produce they had in that garden.

The club helped with delivery and some of the guys even did the packing.

Ginny’s dad and brother were busy with harvest, and with all the land they have and just two people to get all those crops in, the help was much appreciated.

My club brothers showed up for us the same way that they came out and helped with renovations on this place when we were in desperate need of help before the winter.

It doesn’t hit as hard here as it does in some places, but putting in new windows, redoing the porch, and insulating some of the walls was absolutely necessary.

“You and your mom did all the hard work already, picking and washing, and all that baking. All I have to do is assemble boxes.”

She laughs very softly, almost soundlessly, so that she doesn’t wake up Jack.

From the second that boy opens his eyes until the minute he reluctantly falls asleep far later than he should at night, he’s in go mode.

He’s been like that from just about the instant he was born.

He was always so keen on seeing the world.

He’s curious, lively, and charms the shit out of everyone he meets.

She’s laughing because there’s nothing easy when it comes to Jackson. Easy to love? Of course. Easy to accomplish any task, no matter how small? Not so much.

It’s like he’s frustrated being stuck in a baby’s body and he’s ready to be a full blown kid, planning his own adventures, getting into all sorts of trouble.

He can’t even crawl yet, but he’s working on it. For now, he gets carried around like a king. He’s vocal about demanding attention. Everything he does, he does it with all of his heart.

We could learn a lot from babies.

And we have.

Technically, I’m Jackson’s uncle, but in my heart, I’ll always be his father.

Even if he wasn’t Jack’s, he’d still be my son.

I would do anything for him, no matter how hard, or how painful.

Jackson and Ginny are my whole heart. They each have all of it.

It was natural to love them. Not easy, because love takes work, it takes sacrifice, commitment, and a whole lot of looking at yourself, but it’s always going to be worth it a million times over.

I’m learning how to love my club brothers with that same kind, patient, forgiving, open spirits that they’ve always shown me.

My life might be divided by days of the week, some spent in Hart and others spent with my family, but it’s never felt like my heart or loyalties are split in half.

From the first, Tyrant proposed the schedule of working Monday to Thursday and staying at the clubhouse, and spending the other days with Ginny.

I went to him and made it clear I didn’t want to leave the club.

Ginny didn’t want that for me. Even though I stumbled into Hart by chance, or literally by breakdown, it was the right place at what I didn’t realize was the right time. I’ll always be a Satan’s Angel.

When we leave for our journey down south in November, we plan to be gone for a year, but I’ll still be a member of the club.

Just like Ginny will always be a daughter, a mother, and a sister, I’ll always be a brother, and a part of that brotherhood.

I thought losing my mom, and then losing Jack made me something else.

No longer a son and no longer a brother, but that’s not true.

I’ll always be those things as well. Ginny told me that.

How once something is ingrained in your muscle memory, in every fiber of your being, in your brain and heart and soul, there’s no removing it, even if the people you love are gone, and you can never get back that time.

“Okay,” I amend, slipping my arm over her hips and pulling her against me.

She squeals and slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

Jackson doesn’t stir. “All I have to do is pack the boxes and keep Jackson entertained. I can always put on a puppet show with lettuce and make the loaves of bread and buns dance.”

“Which should work for about two minutes.”

I rub the tip of her nose with mine. She stifles another giggle.

She has all of two ticklish places and this is one of them.

“He’s happier when he’s strapped to me.” At least, it’s always calmed him.

He’s too heavy for Ginny to wear comfortably anymore, but he still fits against my broad chest just fine.

“Again, for two seconds.”

“There’s always the yard, the sky, the grass, the cats, the dog, the other animals, your mom, and snacks. I think we should get a good two whole minutes out of him that way.”

It’s pretty much a full time job keeping Jack entertained, but we all love him so much.

Thankfully he’s always been a great sleeper.

At night, he does a solid ten hours, and during the afternoon, he naps for a good hour.

Even at her parents’ house, where we’ll do the assembly, we’ll have at least that hour to work.

Gabe will take the hampers one direction and when I go back to Hart later this evening, I’ll take the others.

The hampers go out once a week and are seasonal.

When we get into harvest season, we’ll be using the van to do all the deliveries, multiple times a week.

“It’s a good thing that we plan on homeschooling. I know that kids change their personalities, but I’m not sure that Jackson ever will. I love that he gives the world hell, but others might not, and it would kill me to see his light dimmed, even just a little.”

Jackson gets plenty of discipline, but I know what she’s talking about.

He has that same inability that both Jack and I did, all our lives, to sit still.

He loves being outside. Loves trying to work with his hands.

He’s generous, always sharing his snacks and toys. He adores animals more than anything.

“He’ll be such a different kid, travelling when he’s younger, growing up on the farm, having a bunch of bikers for uncles and pseudo grandparents.

My mom worried that we might not fit in when we went to school after her teaching us for so long, and maybe part of us didn’t, but I think that even if I went all the way learning at home, I wouldn’t have suffered for it. ”

“He’ll have the perfect life. Anyone who thinks he’s too much can answer to me.”

She laughs quietly. “By which you mean that you’ll educate them, kindly , on the fact that having lots of energy is awesome.

” She rakes her hands through my hair. “I know you will. You do everything with kindness. That’s one of the best things about you.

You look like a big scary biker with all that leather, but you’re always so understanding of people’s fears.

Even when they’re outright assholes and totally prejudiced and make assumptions about you, you don’t get mad.

You don’t get even. You just stay kind.”

“I do some silent fuming. You know that.”

“But you let it go.”

“Yeah.” All those podcasts have really helped.