Page 15 of Property of Buck
Buck wanted to kill Ghost. That was the first coherent thought he had after the church meeting finally ended and the rest of the Kings scattered through the clubhouse to prepare for whatever fresh hell tomorrow brought.
His second thought was worse because Ghost hadn’t been wrong. Buck stood alone on the back porch with snow crunching beneath his boots and a cigarette burning untouched between his fingers. The cold bit through his flannel and kutte, but he barely felt it. His head was too loud.
Inside, he could still hear Wren moving around upstairs. Every creak of the floorboards caught his attention instantly. He felt pathetic just noticing it. “You gonna smoke that or marry it?”
Buck didn’t turn around, but he didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Ghost. He stepped out onto the porch beside him, cigarette already hanging from his mouth like he belonged there. Maybe he did. Ghost had always fit beside him too naturally. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Snow drifted lazily through the yard while bikes sat buried beneath white powder and moonlight.
Finally, Ghost exhaled smoke and muttered, “You hit hard.”
“You deserved it,” Buck insisted.
“Probably.” Ghost smirked faintly. “Still got a nice right hook though,” Buck grunted. Silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It never really was between them. That was part of the problem. Ghost knew him too well—always had.
“You really that pissed?” Ghost asked quietly.
Buck laughed without humor. “You told the whole club you wanted to share the woman I’m trying not to lose my damn mind over.”
Ghost tilted his head slightly. “You notice you didn’t say no?”
Buck’s jaw clenched. “Your face is saying everything that you’re not,” Ghost murmured.
“Shut up,” Buck grumbled.
“No,” Ghost said. Buck finally looked at him then. Ghost leaned against the porch railing casually, but his pale eyes were sharp beneath the dim floodlights. Buck hated that look, because it always saw too much.
“You think I don’t know?” Ghost asked softly. “Brother, I’ve known you half my life.” Buck looked away first, and that alone told Ghost everything. The bastard sighed dramatically. “Jesus Christ. You really have been repressing some shit.”
“Ghost,” Buck warned.
“No, seriously.” Ghost laughed under his breath. “All these years I thought you were just emotionally constipated.” Buck flipped him off without heat, and Ghost grinned wider. But his amusement faded slightly when Buck stayed silent too long. The wind howled around them while tension settled heavily across the porch.
Finally, Buck muttered, “You ever want something so bad it scares the hell outta you?”
Ghost’s expression shifted instantly. “Yeah,” Ghost answered quietly.
Buck rubbed a hand over his jaw roughly. “I spent years convincing myself it was just curiosity.” Ghost didn’t interrupt.Buck stared out across the frozen yard. “First time I realized it, I was nineteen.” His voice came low and rough now. “A couple of older bikers from another chapter passed through town. They were together.” He swallowed once. “Everybody else talked shit behind their backs, but I couldn’t stop staring at them.” Ghost stayed perfectly still beside him. Buck laughed bitterly. “I thought there was something wrong with me.”
“There ain’t,” Ghost insisted.
“I know that now.” Buck’s mouth tightened. “But I didn’t know it back then.” He’d buried it deep after that—too deep. He spent years pretending that he was only attracted to women and hiding the fact that he wanted to be with men too. Buck had spent years hooking up with women while quietly noticing men. Years of almost saying something and stopping himself before it became real.
Then Ghost happened—not suddenly. His hand would linger too long during a fight. Late nights drinking shoulder to shoulder felt way too intimate. They had the kind of loyalty that turned intimate without either man meaning for it to.
Buck had spent years pretending he didn’t notice how good Ghost looked, grinning across a poker table, or how badly he sometimes wanted to grab him by the throat and kiss him just to see what happened. And now Wren had walked into the middle of all of it like a lit match hitting gasoline.
“I want her,” Buck admitted roughly. “Bad enough it’s making me stupid.”
Ghost smirked slightly. “Yeah. I gathered that.”
Buck ignored him. “But every time I see you looking at her—” He exhaled hard. “It doesn’t piss me off the way it should.”
Ghost went quiet, and Buck finally forced himself to say the rest. “I keep thinking about both of us with her. Hell, I can’t stop thinking about anything else.” The confession hung in the frozen air between them. Ghost stared at him openly now.
Buck cursed under his breath and looked away again. “I sound insane.”
“No,” Ghost said softly. “You sound like a man honestly sharing how he feels.” Buck knew that honesty always made things worse.
He gripped the porch railing harder. “I’ve always wanted that.” The words came slower now, dragged out of somewhere deep. “A man and a woman—the three of us together creating something real.” His throat felt like it was on fire from his confession. “But I don’t know how the hell to do it without screwing everything up.”
