Page 4 of Priest

The first thing I notice after I make my announcement is that she’s not where I left her.

That shouldn’t mean anything. The clubhouse is packed, and family day always turns into chaos, kids underfoot, brothers loud, music louder than it needs to be. Bluebell doesn’t cling. She never has. She knows how this works. Still, Sadie has been at my side for hours, and it feels like carrying a weight I didn’t agree to. She doesn’t ask for anything outright. She doesn’t have to. Her presence alone is a low, constant pull for attention, reassurance, and space inside my head I don’t remember offering.

It wasn’t always like this. Back when we were teenagers, Sadie had been easy. Laughing in the bleachers. Riding on the back of my bike. My girlfriend before life got complicated, before lines blurred and loyalties shifted, before she stopped being mine and became my brother’s.

I don’t think about that night. I never have. Thinking about it means remembering the look on my brother’s face when he realized I’d seen. Means remembering how easily Sadie moved on and how hard it was for me to walk away. Some betrayals don’t need closure to stay sharp.

I shake the thought loose and look toward the back wall. I’d been looking forward to getting back to Bluebell, and the realization lands quiet and solid. Relief, more than anything. Bluebell doesn’t pull. She steadies. When I’m with her, I don’t have to manage the room or read between lines. I can just exist.

She’d been standing there earlier, calm and quiet, watching everything without needing to own it. Now I don’t see her anywhere I look. I tell myself she’s in the bathroom, outside getting air, or talking to one of the Old Ladies because she gets along with them better than most women who don’t wear a patch. She doesn’t try too hard. Doesn’t pretend. Doesn’t ask for things I’m not willing to give.

I turn back to the bar, down the last of my beer, and signal for another. Sadie’s still beside me, close enough that I can feel her body heat through denim and leather.

“You okay?” she asks, voice soft. Careful.

I nod once. “Yeah.”

It’s easier than explaining the pressure in my chest that hasn’t gone away since I stepped out of my office. The announcement blurs together in my head. Noise. Cheers. Brothers slapping my back like I’ve handed them something solid, something that fits into the future they all believe in. I meant it when I said I was happy. That should count for something.

I scan the room again, and Bluebell still isn’t there.

My jaw tightens. I set the fresh beer down untouched and step away from the bar, ignoring the way Sadie’s hand lingers at my arm like she expects me to bring her with me. I don’t. I cut through the crowd, eyes tracking faces and movement. Deacon near the pool table. Graves talking low with Ledger. Nomad keeping watch by the doors. Everyone is where they should be except her, and the unease settles heavier now. Cold. Precise.

I’m not going to panic. I don’t do panic. I do assessment.

I check the hallway, the bathrooms, the side room where some of the Old Ladies disappear when the noise gets too much or they want to gossip away from the men. Nothing turns up, so I push through the front doors into the lot, where bikes sit lined up beneath the lights and the night air cuts through the heat of the clubhouse. My eyes scan the space even though some part of me already knows what I’m going to find.

She’s not here.

“Priest?”

My shoulders tighten at the sound of Sadie’s voice.

“She take off?” she asks, stepping closer than she needs to.

I pull my phone from my pocket, thumb already moving. “Bluebell wouldn’t just leave.”

The call goes to voicemail, which shouldn’t mean anything. Bluebell doesn’t jump when I snap my fingers. Never has. I try again anyway, jaw tightening when it goes straight to voicemail a second time. Something settles low in my gut, cold and mean, as I send a text.

Priest: Where’d you go?

No answer comes.

Minutes pass. Every time the door opens behind me, noise spills out, laughter and music and life going on like the ground hasn’t shifted under my boots. I don’t go back inside. Sadie watches me from the corner of her eye, close enough to be noticed, smart enough not to touch.

“She probably just needed space,” she says. “You know how emotional women can get.”

I finally look at her, and whatever she sees on my face makes her backtrack fast.

“I didn’t mean, just… tonight was a lot.”

I grunt and pocket my phone, jaw clenched. Bluebell knows the rules. She knows what we are. She knows better than to make something out of nothing. She knows better than to walk off without saying a damn word.

My phone buzzes.

Relief hits first, fast and sharp, but it doesn’t last. Not once I read the message.

Bluebell: Our time is over. We’re done. Don’t look for me.