Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Jigsaw

I spent the last few days at Margot's. Didn't mean to stay that long, but I couldn't find the desire to leave. I helped her check more positions off her list, and when she had to work, I kept myself busy. Either I rode to a friend's gym and worked out, stopped by Remy's bar to annoy him, or hung out at the racetrack with Eraser. At least that way, I could reasonably claim I was doing something for the club like Z asked me to. Sort of.

But when Rooster sends me a text saying he, and the rest of the club, are almost home, it's time to go.

Unfortunately, Margot's with a family. I end up leaving her a note.

M-

Need to run home.

Had a good time .

See you soon.

J

I stare at my chicken-y scribble. Had a good time— understatement. Hope you enjoyed the orgasms sounds cocky. I don't want to leave anything too X-rated in case, for some reason, her father comes up here and sees it. This doesn't feel right either, though.

I'll text her later. Hopefully, by then I'll have come up with something better. Maybe Rooster can give me some advice. He's always sending sappy shit to Shelby.

No. They're engaged. Margot and I are just…fuck buddies? Teacher and student? I grab the note and add "A++" at the bottom.

The ride downstate gives me time to think about my time with Margot. Several times, I have the urge to turn around, go back to her place, and rip up that note.

But I keep riding.

I arrive at the downstate clubhouse a few minutes before Z, Butcher, Grip, and Suds pull in.

Z's busy on his phone as he approaches the clubhouse.

"Where's Rooster at?" I ask.

He scowls, finishes whatever he was doing, and glances up. "Hello to you too."

"Hey, Prez," I say with a bit more respect. "How was the ride?"

"Fine. As for Rooster, aren't you usually the keeper of his whereabouts?"

"He rode home with you guys, right?" I ask, ignoring the whole keeper thing.

"Yeah," he answers with obvious irritation in his tone. "Grinder and Rooster kept riding straight to their houses." He glances at his phone. "I assume Rooster is ‘reuniting' with Shelby by now."

"We're not sitting at the table?" I ask.

"No. I'm just here to drop off something. I have my own reuniting with my woman I want to do."

Jamming my hands in my pockets, I stare down at my boots and laugh. "Gotcha, Prez." I open the clubhouse door for him. "After you."

"Gee, thanks." Z pats my cheek, then stops and glances back at my bike. Fuck, all my gear from the trip is still strapped to it.

He shifts his gaze from the bike to me one more time, then steps inside the clubhouse.

Phew.

I lift my chin at Butcher and Grip. "How'd it go?"

"You missed a good time," Grip says, slapping my shoulder. "Those southern muffler bunnies suck cock like it's their mission in life, brother."

I roll my eyes skyward. "Good to know. Thought it was a muffler bunny-free zone for the memorial?"

Grip shrugs. "Memorial was over."

Butcher lifts his chin at the clubhouse. "Z's been grumpy the whole way home."

"Poor Lilly." Grip lets out a dirty chuckle. "Z's probably gonna fuck her through a wall when he gets his hands on her."

"Z's gonna put your face through a wall if he hears you talking about his ol' lady like that," I warn, although I've had my own impure thoughts about Lilly once or twice. I wouldn't say them out loud, though.

I follow them inside. Eazy, Suds, and a few other brothers are at the bar, rehashing the trip. Lala's got her friend Kristen behind the bar with her serving drinks.

The noise and chatter of the clubhouse grates on me after a while. I stay to bullshit with the guys a bit longer, then check the time. Rooster and Shelby should be taking a break from their "reuniting" by now.

As much as I enjoy the camaraderie with my brothers, my mind's somewhere else. With a certain someone whose soft curves, blonde hair, and wicked sense of humor constantly hover in my mind.

After a quick nod to the guys, I slip out the front door and head home.

Rooster's in the kitchen, shirtless and guzzling water from a gallon jug.

So many jokes come to mind. My eyes are about to pop out of my head with the effort of holding them in.

"I so badly want to make a joke about your ol' lady draining you dry but I feel like it's disrespectful to Shelby," I finally blurt out.

Eh, I tried.

Rooster blows out a slow, irritated breath, sets the jug on the counter and turns around. "And yet, you said it anyway. Hello to you too, cock-knocker. Where've you been?"

"Clubhouse. Figured we were all meeting there, but everyone went home to fuck instead."

He shakes his head, but the corners of his mouth twitch with amusement.

I glance at the hallway leading to the back staircase and up to their bedroom. "I assume Shelby will be unconscious for a few minutes. Can I talk to you for a sec?"

He stares at me, then must decide I'm not yanking his chain, and nods. "You want coffee? Shelby made a huge batch of kitchen sink cookies." He nods to a long blue-and-pink tray loaded with cookies sitting in the middle of the table.

"What the fuck are kitchen sink cookies?" I ask, although I'm intrigued and already on my way to grab one.

"Uh, chocolate chunk, pecans, coconut." He shrugs. "They're good."

I take a small bite of one. "Sweet Jesus, you should go away more often."

His mouth twists into an annoyed smirk and he rolls his eyes. "So, yes to coffee?"

"Yeff," I mumble around a mouthful of sweet chocolate-coconutty goodness.

While the coffee's brewing, he leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. "Why do you look like you're about to explode and splatter Jigsaw particles all over my kitchen?"

"What?" But he described how I feel accurately. I stay by the table and grab another cookie. While I'm munching on it, working out what I want to say, he crosses to the fridge and pulls out a carton of half-n-half and a carton of milk. At the counter, he grabs a glass, pours milk into it, then hands it to me.

"Thanks," I mumble, swallowing the rest of the cookie. I drink half the glass, then set it on the table.

Just say it. "Don't get mad." I hold my arms out straight in front of me in a don't kill me meets calm down gesture.

Rooster groans. "Always a good conversation opener."

"When you and Shelby first hooked up, it was only supposed to be a vacation thing, right?"

As I knew they would, Rooster's eyes narrow at hooked up. At least he let me spit out the whole question.

He growls a noise that's neither a yes nor a no.

Not put off by the warning growl, I persist. "When did you know it was more than a vacation fling?"

"Jesus." He rakes his fingers through his hair and stares at the floor for a few seconds. "So many times. But I guess the first time it really hit me was the night I brought her up to Blaise's ranch."

"That's when we were still in Texas." Is he serious? "You barely knew her."

He shrugs. "What can I say? I just fucking knew I wouldn't be able to let her go."

"But you did." He'd been one unpleasant motherclucker on the ride from Texas to New York too.

"Yeah, club had to ride home. But she and I kept in touch." He hesitates, then twists his face into a fuck it expression. "I woke up thinking about her every day."

"Woke up alone , if I remember right. We all thought you'd lost your mind, leaving parties early." I shake my head like I'm deeply disappointed, but really, I'd been impressed with his restraint. "Turning down porn stars."

He sends me a withering glare. "Your attention to where my dick goes is disturbing."

"I'm just saying. It's not like Shelby would've known the difference."

" I would've known the difference." He lifts his shoulders. "What would've been the point, anyway? I wanted her. No one else could make me happy."

"Happy? Bro, lots of women would be thrilled to make you happy ."

"Not happy in my pants, you degenerate." He lets out a disgusted snort. "Happy in here ." He pounds on his chest.

More obnoxious words roll onto my tongue, but something clicks in my own chest that makes me swallow the joke.

The coffee maker chimes, and Rooster pours the dark, steaming brew into two mugs and brings them to the table, setting them down with a thunk . I grab the half-n-half and pour some into my mug and use half a cookie to stir it around. Cookies and cream in my coffee . I reach for the sugar bowl and dump in two spoons worth.

"Then when she came to New York," Rooster continues, dropping into the chair at the head of the table, "seeing her again. Nothing had changed for me. I still wanted to be with her just as much."

I nod slowly and take a cautious sip of coffee. The hot liquid sears my tongue and I set the mug down. Everything he's saying finally makes sense to me. "I remember how bummed you were when you two said goodbye in Kodiak."

"Awww, that's the sweetest thing I ever heard." Shelby's bare feet whisper over the tile floor as she shuffles up behind Rooster, wraps her arms around his neck, and peppers the side of his face with kisses. "I hated leavin' you then and I hate it when we're apart now."

His cheeks lift and he pats her arm, then pulls her around into his lap. "Were you spying on us, chickadee?"

"Nope. Y'all sounded so serious. I was worried it might be club business and didn't want to interrupt." She glances over at me and reaches out, touching my arm. "You sound like you have something on your mind. Everything okay?"

Damn, I love this girl.

Rooster's instincts about Shelby were on target from the beginning. Why am I so convinced my own instincts about Margot are wrong?

"Yeah. I'm good, songbird."

"He's being a nosy little goblin is what he is," Rooster grumbles.

"Hush your mouth." Shelby scolds him with a smile on her lips, then returns her attention to me. "You want me to do a reading? I'll take out the fancy cards Rooster gave me."

Rooster stretches his neck and stares up at the ceiling. "Does he really deserve a reading with the fancy cards?"

Shelby elbows him. "Yes."

I smirk at Rooster. "I think Shelby loves me more than you do. You keep it up with that attitude and she's going to replace you as my best friend."

He rumbles with laughter. "All right, all right. I'm sorry. Yes, get the fancy tarot cards out."

Shelby doesn't move. She stares at me intently. "Are you seein' someone, Jigsaw?"

Jesus, maybe she is psychic.

"'Cause it didn't look like you ever came home after Tennessee. Where ya been?"

"I thought you were upstate hanging with the girls while we were gone?"

"I was but Lilly and I came home yesterday." She loops her arms around Rooster's neck and kisses his cheek again. "When we knew our men were headed back."

Rooster's smile morphs into a frown.

"And then when I realized no one was here," Shelby continues, "I went and stayed at Lilly's 'cause I'm still too chicken to stay in my own home alone."

Well, fuck if that doesn't lay a ton of guilt on me. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Figured you were busy." She shrugs.

Now I feel like I owe her an explanation for not being around when she needed someone. "Can this stay here?" I knock my knuckles against the table. "I have a reputation to maintain."

Rooster rolls his eyes, but Shelby raises her right hand. "I won't breathe a word. Not to anyone." She glances at Rooster. "He's the only one I'd share secrets with, anyway. And he's sittin' right here."

I blow out a breath. If I share this with them, then it's real. No going back. Damn, I want it to be real. "Yes, I'm kind of seeing someone."

"Define ‘kinda'," Shelby says.

"It started out as…one thing. But now I think it's a lot more."

"Awww!" Shelby coos and slides out of Rooster's lap to throw her arms around my neck. "Who is she?" she squeals against my ear.

"Thaaat's not important."

"Uh-oh." Shelby retreats to the chair on the opposite side of the table. "Don't tell me it's that heifer Stella. I will not go on double dates with that bag of hair. She's mean and snotty as heck."

I choke on a laugh. "No, it's not one of the club's porn princesses. Or a stripper."

Shelby opens her mouth.

"Not a club girl either," I say, cutting off her question.

Rooster sits forward, staring at me like he can peer inside my head and uncover the information he wants. "But it is someone affiliated with the club, isn't it?"

Fuuuck. He's doing the math. There aren't many single women affiliated with the club who aren't porn stars, strippers, or muffler bunnies. He's gonna come up with Margot's name really fast.

"As long as it ain't my momma, I'm all for it," Shelby mutters.

"It's not Angelina," Rooster says slowly. "Dawson's been making progress with her."

Shelby titters with laughter.

"It's not Heidi's friend Dawn. She's got a kid, and you're morally opposed to raising crotch goblins."

"Yes, I am." I nod.

Shelby shakes her head. "Rude. But also, same."

"It's not Shadow's wife, Myra, because that'd be really fucked up, even for you," Rooster says, still drilling twin holes into my forehead.

"Look, stop trying to guess." I pull a helpless puppy face. "And give me some advice."

"What advice do you need?" Rooster's tone is so serious, I almost believe he's not fucking with me.

"Did I catch monogamy from you two? Or did I get hexed from, you know, being with her too many times in a row?"

"Jiggy!" Shelby slaps her hand against the table. "What in the hell's wrong with you?"

Rooster narrows his gaze, his face getting all pinched like it does when he's thinking really hard. "He's being obnoxious to mask his real feelings. Because feelings make him uncomfortable."

"Look who woke up thinking he's Sigmund Freud today," I quip.

"Is that true, Jiggy?" Shelby asks.

"No, I'm a naturally gifted comedian," I answer in a this should be obvious tone.

"You're really not," Rooster says.

Shelby stands. "All right, I'm getting my cards. The universe will help us get to the bottom of this." She points a sassy finger at me. "Don't move."

"Yes, songbird."

As soon as she clears the room, Rooster leans forward. "It's Margot, isn't it?"

I tilt my head and blink at him.

"Don't try that I'm-so-innocent face on me," he warns. "Teller's gonna kill you if you fuck stuff up with our access to the oven."

"No shit." I take a breath. "She and I already talked about that before anything…" I shake off that train of thought. "Nothing's getting fucked up." Then, in the most serious tone I've probably used with Rooster since his uncle died, I admit, "I think I'm falling in love with her."

Holy shit. Did I just really say that?

He opens his mouth.

I hold my hands in the air. "I know. I always said I'm incapable of that. My heart's still black and shriveled but she seems to like it that way."

He chuckles, then takes a big breath, like he's relieved. "Good. You deserve someone who appreciates you. You're too unique to be wasted on someone boring."

"Hah, so you admit I'm special."

"Definitely special." He wipes the sarcastic expression off his face. "So that's why the twenty questions about Shelby and me?"

"Yeah. It started out like a friendly arrangement situation." I'll go to my grave before I'd betray Margot and share that she asked me to help her get better at sex. Not even with Rooster. "But now I just want to…see her all the time. Be around her." Smell her hair. "Do stuff with her— outside of the bedroom. Although, that's usually where we end up."

"So what's the problem?"

"Is that normal?"

"Yes, it's normal," he says with more patience than I'd expect when I'm asking such a dumb question.

"Since we were really clear in the beginning that it was strictly…" for educational purposes.

"Sex?" Rooster answers for me. "Use your big boy words."

"Yes," I grit my teeth. " I warned her multiple times not to catch feelings…and that I don't do relationships."

"Jesus Christ." He glares at me. "She was really okay with that?"

"Yes. You might think I'm an asshole, but I'm always honest."

"I don't think you're an asshole. I think you're a horndog." He sighs. "So, what's got you so stressed?"

"We had an arrangement. That was working fine." I blow out an annoyed breath. "And now I'm the one who caught feelings, okay. Are you happy now?"

Rooster bellows loud enough to shake the fucking house. "Oh, man. This is good. I believe this is what they call karma ."

"Only if she doesn't feel the same way," Shelby says, returning to her chair across from me.

"You heard all of that?" I ask.

She flicks her hand in the air like she's swatting a fly. "Just the highlights." She meets my eyes. "I missed the big reveal of who it is, though. I know you told Logan."

I sigh. "If I tell you, can you please keep it to yourself for a little bit? Don't share with Serena. Or Heidi. Or Trinity. Or Lilly. None of the girls. No one ."

"My lips are sealed." She pulls a black box out of a black velvet satchel. "You said I'm your best friend now. And I would never break a bestie's trust."

"It's Margot." I wait for Shelby's reaction.

Her eyes light up. "Oh, the pretty little mortician?"

"She's actually the mortuary cosmetologist. But she has her funeral director license…you know what, I don't quite understand all of their roles." I wave it off, not the point. "She tends to dead people and their families, yes."

"Cool job," Shelby says. "Must be real sad, though, sometimes." She casts a quick glance at Rooster. "Not everyone's death is a relief. She must see some of the worst humans do to one another."

"Yeah. It's rough on her some days. And there's certain stuff she won't do because she's seen a lot of consequences," I say carefully.

"She doesn't ride," Rooster guesses immediately.

"Don't make a big deal?—"

He holds his hands up. "No judgment. As long as she's not gonna try to make you stop riding."

"Never even hinted at it." I drill Rooster with a look. "And I won't try to talk her into it either."

"Fair enough." Rooster nods.

"Daaang." Shelby whistles and somehow even her whistle sounds Southern. "Y'all worship at the altar of Harley-Davidson. You must be head over boots for her."

"We don't…never mind." Nah, she's got a point.

Rooster drums his fingers against the tabletop. "So, did you ride home from Deadbranch and go straight to her place?"

"Uh." I scratch the side of my head. "Yeah. I only planned to see her and say hi, you know. But then one day turned into two and…" I shrug.

"How'd you leave things?" Rooster asks. "You know, when you finally left?"

I curl my fingers around my mug and stare at a few rogue cookie crumbs floating at the top. "She was working, so I left her a note."

"A note?" Shelby scowls at me. "What'd it say?"

Not enough.

"That's personal, songbird."

She and Rooster share a look.

"Do you think she feels the same way?" Shelby asks.

"Sometimes. I don't know." My jaw clenches as I think over our "semester." "She kinda asked about my ‘no relationships' stance once and I bailed for a bit," I admit, feeling like an asshole.

Shelby rolls her eyes but holds her tongue.

"She expressed some strong opinions about my behavior."

Rooster shakes with the effort of holding in his laughter.

I squint at the wall above Shelby's shoulder. "And she might've indirectly called me a fuckboy."

Rooster loses it, clutching the edge of the table and laughing his big, bearded face off.

Shelby wrinkles her nose. "Yeah, truth hurts, don't it?"

"I'm not…never mind." I wave my hand at the cards. "Are we doing this?"

She clutches the cards in both hands. "Are you going to take it seriously?"

I side-eye Rooster. "Well, he hasn't been very helpful, so maybe the cards can provide some answers."

"What do I need to be helpful about?" Rooster throws his hands up. "You haven't asked a serious question, yet."

"Yes, he did," Shelby says quietly.

Rooster finally works the smirk off his face.

Shelby starts shuffling the cards. "Clear your mind," she instructs. "Focus on what you want to ask the universe."

Am I boyfriend material or destined to be a fuckboy forever?

Jesus Christ, is that what I'm really asking the universe? But now that the question's formed in my mind, I can't stop it from repeating over and over.

She sets the deck in front of me. "Cut it."

The cards are smoother than I thought. They slide when I pick them up and I almost spill them all over.

"Relax," Shelby says. "This is just a tool to get you thinking about your life."

"You're going to need more than one deck," Rooster says.

"Logan!" Shelby shakes her head.

He runs his fingers over his lips as if he's capable of keeping his mouth shut.

"All right. Focus on your question, Jensen. We're going to do a five-card relationship spread and see what we can figure out."

"You're birth-naming me. Now, I'm scared."

"I don't want the universe to get confused," she explains. "Okay, pull the first card for me. Don't look at it, though. Just set it down."

I don't even believe in this shit. Why's it freaking me out so much?

Nothing happens when I pull the first card and set it on the table.

Without touching my card, Shelby pulls another one and lays it a card's width away from the first one, then a third one at the top, one in the middle, and the final one at the bottom, forming a crude cross.

"The first card represents your role in the relationship. The second, Margot's. Third is your past foundation." She taps each card as she explains their role in the reading. "Fourth is the current state of things. Fifth is your future."

Do I really want to do this? My father considered any of this spiritual stuff devil magic. Even though I don't believe that, an echo of unease from my past creeps over me.

She flips over the first card and bites her lip.

"What?" I lean over the table, trying to see the card better. An image of a muscled-warrior type dude with long hair, wielding a sword and shield while wearing a loincloth is in the center of the card. Knight of Wands. I flick my gaze to her face again. "Why are you laughing?"

"I'm not!" She covers her mouth with her hand.

"Yes you are."

She flaps her hand at me. "Stop."

She flips the second card and a little furrow forms between her brows. The Hermit . All it looks like to me is a woman hiding her face under the hood of a long robe, with one shapely leg peeking out.

"Awww," Shelby breathes out.

The third card is a naked goddess with long hair mostly covering her bits, floating in the stars with what looks like eight sticks. Eight of Wands. A knowing smile spreads over Shelby's face.

The fourth card is a skeleton rowing a boat under a glittering night sky. Death.

"The Death card isn't bad," Shelby warns.

The fifth and final card she turns over has a man and woman toasting two chalices together with vibrant roses blooming and intertwining with the stems of the chalices.

Shelby rests her elbows on the table and studies the cards. Her mouth's tilted up and she seems happy…almost smug with the cards in front of her.

"Okay," she finally says. "The first one. This represents you. I laughed because sometimes people joke that the Knight of Wands has big fuckboy energy."

Several slow, sarcastic huffs of laughter pop out of Rooster. Shelby and I ignore him.

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe I told you that," I grumble.

"No. No. It's more than that," she insists. "He also symbolizes fiery passion, stamina, that you're flirty, you have great chemistry, but a bit reckless or impulsive at times. It can mean a lot of passionate flings and fear of commitment."

"Ding, ding, ding," Rooster says.

I mean, the card's not entirely wrong.

"Now, your partner's card, The Hermit, can also have several meanings."

"They all , always, have several meanings," Rooster says.

"Your snark is not appreciated at this time, brother." I throw my palm in front of his face. "Continue, please, songbird," I say to Shelby.

She flicks a glance at both of us. "In a reading like this, it could be she's gone through a hermit phase to learn more about herself and find healing. Someone who isn't comfortable with, or wants to learn about, their sexuality, or has trouble with body image." She points to the card. "See how she hides under the robe? But it could also mean she's assumed the hermit role to take time to heal from past bad relationships?"

All of the above. "Yeah." I'm too stunned to say more than that. The accuracy is freaky as fuck. The whole reason we started our fling was because some asshole ex of Margot's made her feel so bad about herself.

"And that could mean she's ready for something new," Shelby concludes.

"That's good, right?"

"I think so." She taps the card of the woman and the eight sticks. "The third one is about the past foundation of your relationship?—"

I frown and lean closer to the cards. "Are you sure it's not a gang bang card?"

Rooster snickers.

Shelby shoots a glare at both of us. "No."

"I'm just saying, it looks like she's floating in the air with eight dicks."

"Do you want me to finish or not?"

"Yes." I pull a contrite face.

"So, the Eight of Wands can signify explosive chemistry and a quick, passionate attraction to each other."

"Got that right," I mutter.

The Death card's still sitting there staring me in the face. "Does the next one mean we're going to fuck ourselves to death with all that explosive chemistry?"

"No," Shelby says with impressive patience. "The Death card can be about changes, and rebirth. The end of one thing and the beginning of something new."

"She's a mortician and lives in a funeral home," I point out. "Couldn't it just be about her job?"

Shelby blinks at the cards. "I guess."

My lips quirk. "I call her ‘little lady death' sometimes."

"Charming," Rooster mutters. Shelby brushes his arm with the back of her hand.

"So, the card isn't magic," Shelby explains. "This is more to help you think about your life. What makes you feel truly alive and what makes you feel dead inside?"

Margot. Not being with Margot.

"Or, what's ending?" Shelby adds.

"His carefree fuckboy days," Rooster says.

"Logan," Shelby warns. "Stop pushing negative energy into my reading."

"No, he's right," I admit. "I never saw myself wanting to be with one person long-term."

"So that image that you have of yourself as the carefree, flirty playboy might be what's dying and he's being replaced by a mature man who's ready to be a suitable partner."

"With explosive chemistry," I add.

"Yes." Shelby closes her eyes for a second, like she's asking the moon goddess for some extra patience. "This final one, the Two of Cups , signifies mutual love and balance. High levels of intimacy and big feelings. Extreme sexual compatibility and physical attraction. It's one of the best relationship cards." She happily taps the card. "This is where you're headed."

I stare at the cards and a flicker of hope flares in my chest. "Are you sure you're not bullshitting me?" I wave my hand over the cards. "This sounds…almost too perfect." Except for that Hermit card. I didn't tell Shelby any of those details about Margot.

"Well, it's not exact," Shelby says. "It's all up for interpretation. You can study the cards and reflect on your question and how the images apply to it."

"Can I take a picture of it?"

"Sure! I do that when I have a good reading."

I stand and hold my phone over the table, getting all five cards in the frame and snap a picture.

"Thanks."

I sit back down and stare at the cards. Death. Change. Passion. It's all there. I want to believe in the cards and how Shelby interpreted them.

But the old me doesn't want to let go, yet.

Something whispers it's too good to be true .