Chapter Thirty-Three

Priest

"Ten bucks they drop him." Sarah chuckled.

"Dimeter! Don't you dare drop him!" Phoebe shouted while I tried to hold my laughter. The second we arrived at the compound, my family rushed out to greet me, welcoming me home. While I was thrilled to see them all, it was getting inside the clubhouse that was an issue.

"Not gonna drop him, Sis," Scribe moaned, rolling his eyes.

"I told you I should have built a wheelchair ramp," Pyro complained.

"Don't need one. Fucker won't be in that damn thing long," Banks muttered.

"Told y'all, I'd carry him," Frank grumbled, shaking his head as Enigma and Scribe hefted my wheelchair into the air, with me in it. While Banks and Hawk stood back laughing their asses off.

"Jesus Christ, Priest." Enigma grunted. "How much do you fucking weigh?"

Scribe huffed. "A fuckton. That's how much."

"Let me carry him," Frank offered again. "I can carry him."

"Not gonna be carried in like a girl, brother. Sorry," I groaned.

After some more grunting and threats of bodily harm, I was finally inside the clubhouse.

Safely.

"I need a beer," I moaned as Phoebe rolled me over to one of the tables. Moving chairs out of the way, so I could sit without anyone bumping into me, before she scampered off. It was bad enough I had to sit in this damn chair until my leg healed, but to make matters worse, the full leg cast prevented me from bending my leg.

Walking over with a cold beer, Enigma placed it in front of me before heading back to the bar. Taking a seat next to me, Scribe sighed, snagging my cold beer. "You can't drink this. You're still on meds."

Grumbling, I muttered, "Fucker."

Looking around the common room, I couldn't spot King, or Bailey, for that matter. Curious, I asked, "Where's the boss?"

"If he knows what's good for him, he's helping my bestie go into labor. Man, that woman is evil."

"You would know best. You are the cause of most of her foul moods," I stated truthfully, as my beautiful wife returned with a cup of tea, placing it before me. Looking at it, then at her, I didn't have the chance to say a word before she just pointed at the cup.

"Drink it."

Scribe chuckled.

Muttering under my breath, I picked up the teacup and downed it all in one swallow. Grimacing, I shook my head, handing the cup back to my wife.

"Jesus, baby, what the hell was in that?"

"Herbs. Lots of herbs that will help you heal faster. Now, stay here. I've got to go check on things," she ordered, walking off.

"Like I can go anywhere!" I shouted after her.

"How are things with you and my sister going?"

"Better," I said, watching her walk away. "Fucker messed up my mojo, and getting stabbed didn't help, but we're still talking. Really talking. I think we're in a good place. Just taking it one day at a time."

"That's all you can do."

"You know, I never thought she'd come back to me. Not after the way I treated her. I was horrible to her, Scribe. Any other woman and she would have divorced me, but not Phoebe. She never gave up on me."

"No, she didn't."

"I told her about the drawings."

"The ones when you were a kid?"

I nodded. "She listened while I tried to explain everything. She cried when I told her I'd dreamed of her, knew her before we even met. She told me her nana knew. Told her when she was young that I was out there looking for her. I still don't know how, but I'm starting to understand."

"Understand what?"

"That everything's connected. God, the universe, people. I know it sounds weird coming from me, a devout Catholic and all, but it's the only thing that makes sense. How else can I explain that I heard my wife's voice that day in the basement or dreamed of her afterward?"

"Divine intervention?"

I chuckled. "Yeah. We can go with that. All I know, Scribe, is that your sister was made for me. Somehow, someway, she was put on this earth to be my wife. Call it fate, divine intervention, whatever, but there will never be another woman for me. Phoebe is it for me. Forever."

"She better be, or I will have my bestie castrate you."

Smirking, I looked up and spotted Cameron looking around the banister next to the stairs. The young man looked upset, almost like he'd been crying, and I could see he held the weight of the world on his little shoulders.

"Scribe, make yourself scarce."

I didn't need to say anything more as my brother got up and left.

Enigma followed right behind him.

Rolling myself closer, I said, "Come here, Cameron."

"Don't want to hurt you anymore, Priest."

"You are not going to hurt me. Now come here."

Shoulders slumped, the little man walked over, head looking at the floor, stopping a few feet from me.

"Gonna need you to come closer, kid. Don't want to yell across the room."

The second Cameron was within arm's reach, I grabbed him and pulled him closer.

Standing next to me, I looked at the kid and sighed.

"You've got a lot of shit going on in that head of yours, don't you, kid?"

He silently nodded.

"Remember our talk in Beth's coffee shop? When you said you and I were a lot alike. I think you were right, bud. I know it's not easy being the smallest brother in the club, but I want you to know you taught me something. Something very important."

His head snapped up. "I did?"

"Yep. You taught me that when things start to pile up, that I shouldn't be afraid to ask for help. That's what our brothers and sisters are here for. To help us, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Then you wanna tell me why you are not talking to any of them?"

"Don't want them to be mad at me."

"Why would they be mad, Cameron?"

"'Cause I was a coward," he whispered. "I ran away instead of helping you."

Lifting his head so I could look into his eyes, I firmly said, "You are the least cowardly person I know, Cameron. Who was it that called and got your sister help when Hiller hurt her? Who sat with Frank and talked with him when he was worried about losing Charlie? Who found Sugar's ex when the cops couldn't? Who stood up to a former town bully and made her a friend? You did all that, Cameron. You are one of the smartest and kindest brothers in this club. You are always the first to volunteer, eager to help any of us. Cameron, I am proud that you got me and Phoebe help. Without your quick thinking, who knows what would have happened? Phoebe and I are alive because you had the courage to stand up to all your brothers and sisters and make them listen. That makes you the strongest brother in this club, and I am proud to call you my brother."

The next thing I knew, Cameron threw his arms around my neck and hugged me tight as his little body was wracked with sobs. I really felt for the little guy. He saw way too much, knew too much for his own good. He was a good kid and that was the point. He was still a kid, and I was going to make damn sure he stayed that way for as long as possible.

The world was scary enough.

I didn't want Cameron carrying a weight that didn't belong to him.

Over the next few days, Cameron slowly returned to his former pain-in-the-ass self. It helped that I insisted I needed his help and advice with shit I could have done or figured out myself, but seeing the little man puff up his chest and smile again made me feel better.

When I brought my concerns to the club during church the other day, my brothers all agreed with me. Though Cameron was a future member of the Sons of Hell, he was still a little boy. He had all the time in the world to grow up.

Right now, it was his time to be a kid.

"Woman, stop fluffing my pillows. I'm comfortable," I groaned. "I just need your ass next to me and I'll be fine."

Lightly slapping my chest, I oof'd when Phoebe climbed over me, damn near maiming me before she settled on my right side. Holding her close, I sighed, closing my eyes, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

Grumbling, I shouted, "What!"

The door opened and in walked Gunner and Sarah.

"Sorry to disturb you both, but I couldn't wait," Sarah said anxiously, looking between me and Phoebe.

"Is everything okay, Sarah?" my woman asked, sitting up.

Sarah looked at Gunner, who shrugged. "This is your show, babydoll. I told you I'll support you one hundred percent, no matter what."

Looking at the young woman, I watched as she lovingly looked at her husband, before quickly giving him a kiss on the lips. Walking over to us, she sat on the end of the bed, closest to Phoebe and said, "I've got an idea."

Phoebe frowned, reaching for Sarah's hands. "Okay. I'll help in any way I can."

"Well, it's more like me helping you two."

"Us?" Phoebe whispered, turning to me.

I had no idea what the woman was thinking. That wasn't my department. However, whatever had Sarah all excited, Gunner seemed to know and wasn't worried. In fact, the man looked adoringly at his wife like she was the most spectacular woman on the planet.

"Well, I was thinking..."