#soaimagine

There it is.  

The famous wind beaten, dark trim wooden sign.  

Welcome to Charming - it reads.  

While surpassing this somewhat historical landmark, you inhale heavily as if you were absorbing all the tension in the air. With a shaky exhale, you peer up in your review mirror, watching the dirt cloud settle behind your deep blue 1970 Plymouth Barracuda. The sheer force of your muscle car causing the sign to rattle into swings as it literally eats your dust.  

“Too late to turn back now” You mutter under your breath.  

It’s been what? Roughly 6 years since you’ve set foot into your little hometown. You can't deny the rising tidal wave of emotions crashing against you, waiting to be released from the bay doors within you, begging to be liberated and settled before you arrive at your mom's. You swallow hard, trying your damnedest to keep the composure you’ve held since you left Dublin. Although you’re successful at ignoring your failed healing process, your heart still weighs heavy as you remember the look on your fiancé's face at the terminal.  

“Call me when you land. I love you and say hi to Mrs. M for me” He whispered as he held your face close to his. “I'm sorry about your dad, I wish I could be there with you.”

Your chest is riddled with stings of guilt. As much as he expressed his longing to accompany you, and support you in this time of loss, you wanted to take this trip alone. For many reasons, some you openly accepted and others you buried in the back of your mind.  

Your princess cut, diamond-studded ring glitters brightly in the sunlight. Almost obnoxiously actually. You flex your hand from the steering wheel into a flat spread, looking upon the sparkle in dread. Yeah, that’s right- dread. Things weren’t so peachy in your so-called apple-pie life over in Ireland. After what had happened here in Charming all those years ago, which caused you to pack your bags in a hurry and relocate, your world changed overnight (or literally over a flight) when you landed in Dublin. At the young age of 21 years old, you started from scratch again, moving in with your aunt. Along the way you picked up a few bartending gigs, whilst going to nursing school. You kept to yourself, focused on your savings and your studies. Even though you had promised yourself exile from Charming, you kept in regular touch with your parents over the phone.  

After establishing a steady, normal routine, it didn’t take long for you to meet your now fiancé. Declan is a professor that taught at your university, DCU. He was once a full-time surgeon, who went part time as he enjoyed teaching others. In your second year of nursing school, you eventually became a student of his. And let me tell you, from the moment he saw you, it was clear he took a liking to your appearance as well as your demeanor. Even though you had just turned 22, your childhood was one that matured you quickly.  

Upon meeting Declan, also known as Dr/Mr. O’Brien, the chemistry was evident. Over the course of a quick four years, the two of you ended up here. First It was after class tutoring, which turned to dating, then to moving in together which then resulted in an unexpected proposal over a year ago.  

That’s right. It's been a whole ass year of struggling to pick the wedding date, the vendor and who the maid of honor would be. Certainly not your aunt, your only friend in that godforsaken town. Even though all these struggles were enough to stress a new coming bride to the point of being traumatized, you felt relief. As much as you adored Declan, truly, you never wanted to get married. You came to realize, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t give him your whole heart. You weren’t sure if you ever would. Therefore, this put a bit of a pin in your wedding plans. Although he’s a smart man, he never really seemed to recognize this. So, until you could figure it out, he didn’t need to know.  You tap your thumb on the steering wheel, anxiety creeping upon you, as if your body has muscle memory, it takes you a minute but you finally realize why.

An upcoming fork in the road appears, one you know all too well.  

Left Your mind involuntarily speaks, causing your heartbeat to rapid.  

With a slow approach, you turn your steering wheel to the right, trying your best not to glance down at that highway of memories leading to town. You shift your black rays sitting on your head, holding your bangs out of your face, to the bridge of your nose. Left is a path to history. A history too painful to replay. You didn’t block out the world you once lived in for no reason. No No, those memories stay tightly locked in a box inside that head of yours. He stays locked away, far from your heart which never fully recovered from his actions. You feel your bottom lip tremble. Although it’s been six years since you last saw him, you still often thought of him, no matter how hard you try to ignore those creeping flashbacks. Man, first love heartbreak is a god damn bitch and if anyone understands Taylor swift's lyrics, it’s you.  

The pavement beneath you turns to gravel. Your beast of a car rattles at the uneven pebbled pathway leading to your parents' house. Your nerves instantly fire up at the sight. You’ve been so caught up in your thoughts, the reality of your current situation hadn’t had time to sink in, until right now. You believed in yourself when you said you’d grieved at home with your fiancé, but really you only just touched the surface. You bit your bottom lip, parking into your old spot near the farm you grew up on. You turn the ignition off, the silence deafening. Shit. This ride was too short. You expected it to be longer, to give you more time to process all that comes with reentering Charming.  

“Here we go” you whisper as you swing out of the car, to the trunk to grab your baggage.  

“Y/n”! You hear a pip squeak yell behind you, recognizing your mother's voice immediately. You turn to her, baggage in one hand, your free hand shifting your sunglasses back to the spot on your head.  

There she is, waving at you. God. Could she be any cuter? Her white apron, with patched green clovers, tied around her waist. Her dark redish/brown hair clipped up into a messy bun, revealing her full facial frame. You smile as she waves excitedly at you.

“Mum!” You call out as you attempt to lightly run towards her, your baggage making it awkward.  

“It’s about fecking time you arrived sweetie!” She opens her arms to you in a wide embrace.  

“máthair, máthair I rushed, I promise I did” You squeeze her tightly. It had been way too long since you’ve been in her arms.  

Your hug lingers, as you both quietly accept the very reason you’re here. You were coming home to one parent now. Although your mother has been on her own for the past week, her Irish strength never failed to persevere.  

Your dad fell ill last year. He was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. No cure. Despite your hatred for this town, You fought to come out and see him, to help assist your parents as their world turned upside down. But your dad, also known as Mr. M, the Leprechaun of Charming, was adamant that you do not see him in the condition he was. As much as he was dignified, he was humiliated at his decline. He argued with your mom, to try and get her to understand that his daughter should never see her father dying. Therefore, phone exchanges were your only line of communication. They started out quite frequently, three times a week. Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. But that gradually changed as your father got sicker. The length of phone time with him becoming less and less. Your heart took a beating each time you heard the struggle in his voice. It eventually got to the point where your mother was answering your calls due to his exhaustion from chemotherapy.  

Until one day, your phone rang with heavy chimes. You’ll never forget. You hesitated to pick up, waiting until the last ring, praying it wasn’t the day. Tears streamed down your face when you heard your mom’s tired and broken voice. “He’s gone sweetheart.”  

Those were dark dark days, despite being in a town that was always cloudy.  

You set your bags in your old room, scoffing at the fact it hasn’t changed one bit. You save the trip down memory lane for later and return to the kitchen where you find evidence that your mother had been busying herself making sourdough bread. There’s flour all over her counter and stove, and the aroma that filled the house was delicious. You greet her at the little round table, her teapot steaming out the spout and her teacups ready to be filled. Teatime was always ritualistic in this household. It was comfort for your little Irish family.  

“So, sweetie” Your mom breaks the silence. Her tight lip smile warms you. Her eyes, hugged by crow’s feet, sparkle with pure gratitude that you’re finally here.  

You take a sip from the teacup, which turns to a slurp as you feel the searing on your lips from the heat. You set your fine China down and take a little glance around the room. Your eyes scanning and picking up items that you remember from the past. Your mom watches you, analyzing your expressions, wondering if you’ve been coping well. She knew that your return back home was no easy feat.  

“It hasn’t changed here one bit hey?” You speak softly.

She shakes her head swiftly, picking up her cup in two hands.  

“I know and I’m sorry it’s a bit of a mess, I’ve been baking and I'm aware of the flour that’s everywhere. I plan on sorting through and tidying up the house, it’s just been so hectic the last couple of weeks, you know? It’s hard t-”

“Mum” You interrupt. “Don’t be sorry, Jesus. I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through, the last thing you need to worry abou-”  

She cuts you off. “It’s just.. I haven’t got the heart to start going through his things, and I know I should throw out his used tissues or the fecking toothpicks on the side table I-”

“Mum, stop. You don’t need to explain, you shouldn’t be doing anything on your own right now anyways cau-”

She interrupts again. “I just need to get over there and toss all his things out, his glasses, the god forsaken pennies he collected, his sweaters, oh.. how he loved his fleece sweater” her voice cracks.  

Your eyes well up at the sight of her. You place your hand on her thigh, bringing her attention back from your dad's sweater, sprawled on his armchair.  

“Mum, I miss him too. I miss him so much, that seeing his stuff... brings me some sort of comfort so let's just leave his things where they are... a little while longer, please?” You whisper, the tears streaming down your cheeks. She catches them with the crook of her index finger.

She breathes deeply, closing her eyes. “I’d like that”.  

                                                                                The night comes quickly as you unpack your bags and get your things in order. After teatime, your mom had offered you dinner, but you really didn’t have an appetite. The two of you briefly discussed the funeral that was taking place tomorrow, which cemetery your dad was being buried in, what time to arrive at, and how long the two of you planned to stay. Being around those crying, or mourning wasn’t your area of expertise as you didn’t know how to comfort others, and your mom felt the same way. She managed to change the subject by dropping comments towards you and your fiancé moving back to Charming, but you dismissed that quickly. “That’s a topic for another day” you mentioned.

You blessed her with your goodnights before crawling into bed. Allowing yourself to drift off to the noises of the house, the mooing of the cows and grunts of the sheep in the barn. These were sounds you were familiar with. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks as you dream of your childhood, working the farm again with your dad.  

The following day, you slip on your black mary Janes, analyzing yourself in the ceiling to floor length mirror that stood by your bedroom door. You wore your snug fitting, formal black dress that reaches to your midcalf, with tight black sleeves that reach your hands and a high neckline. You put on your black, trench length peacoat and continue to gaze at yourself, losing focus, falling into a trance. Today is the day. Reality is going to be profound.  

As you close the front door and meet your mom at the courtesy hearse, you grab your ray bans from your purse to cover your eyes. The two of you ride in silence, all the way to the cemetery. You pluck your hair tie from your wrist and smooth your hair with your palms before tying it back into a ponytail. You really only did this, to give yourself something to do, as your bay doors holding back that tidal wave was quivering with anxiousness. You could feel it falling apart inside you. Before you know it, the driver announces your arrival. You share a moment with your mom, your eyes speaking words you could never voice.  

Be strong for each other.  

The door is opened by the driver, and an umbrella is offered to you as it is starting to rain. The cemetery looks like something out of a thriller film. Dark clouds hanging low, expelling increased rain, fog rolling near the ground dancing around your ankles, the forest surrounding you seeming alive as the trees seem to sway with grief. You hate this. You look up the little hill where the driver begins to escort you, seeing a group of people formed at the top, standing with black umbrellas. Fuck.  

You step over the curb, leaving the sturdy concreate road, to meet the squishy wet grass of the cemetery. With your mom by your side, the two of you walk up the little hill, towards your family and friends and towards the casket which is suspended right over the 6ft hole beneath. You feel dizzy. Everything happens in slow motion. Memories of your father race through your head causing your guilt to come flooding to the surface. Why didn't you just visit? You shouldn’t have listened to him, no matter how stubborn or afraid he was. It is your biggest regret.  

You stare at the shiny, brown, mahogany lid, watching the rain drops slide down the sides. The pastor stands in front, saying a prayer you can’t make out as you begin zone out. You feel eyes on you causing your stomach to turn. You’ve never been good at hiding or playing off your emotions and you hate the spotlight. The paster continues his sermon, you listen closely now as you hold your mom, her head resting on your shoulder. Your mind drifts off again, ignoring movements in your blurred vision. Individuals start to approach the casket, one by one, placing red roses on top, saying things to your dad. You’re startled as your mom leaves your side, placing her rose gently on the now heaping pile of rain-soaked flowers. You suddenly feel unbalanced, unstable. Your breathing becomes labored when she returns. Your legs, having a mind of their own, start to move, step by step towards the casket. Your heels dig into the wet soil as you try to balance your sluggish footing. Somehow, you still end up tripping, or maybe your knees gave out but next thing you know, your hands are palmed on the lid of the casket, supporting you from your fall. You feel your hair soaking and your sleeves dampening under the pour of the rain. Warm tears start spilling from your eyes, your nose running hot, the lump in your throat becoming too painful to swallow. The words spill out.  

“Even when you’re dead, you catch me when I fall” you sob.  

The floodgates come crashing down; you feel yourself losing control as you try to grip the wood as if you could somehow grasp him through it, hold him one more time. Tell him all the things you felt, how you’re sorry, how you wish you were strong enough to face his illness, the one that was robbing you of a loving father. You clench and grit your teeth to fight back the whimpers.

You feel a gentle touch on your back, a hand under your elbow. You stiffen at the sudden contact, embarrassed at the display you’ve presented. You snap back to reality, inhaling deeply. You look up through the mist, assuming it was your mom supporting you, only to have your world completely shaken.  

“Hey, I’ve got you” His voice oozes out, basically dripping off his beard.

Opie Winston looks down at you, head cocked, sadness written across his face as if the sight of you like this crushed his very soul.

Your eyes widen at his presence, and you swear he could see past the black tinted lenses of your ray bans.  

“Opie...Wha- what are you doing here?” You stutter, struggling to comprehend the fact that this man is standing in front of you. Your hands are on his forearms. You were shaking but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold of the rain or if it’s a reaction to him supporting you, touching you.  

“I... “His voice sounded the same but somehow different. It was a tone that was carried out with a certain hardness. You watch his eyes search your face. “Well...I wanted to say goodbye too” He whispers. The loudness of the rainfall keeps your conversation private as the rest can’t hear the words exchanged between you two.  

You stammer with confusion “Y-you... wanted to say goodbye?... Wh-why..you didn’t care before.”  

His reaction was if you had hit him, he shifts his gaze down to his soaked, water-stained boots.

“A lot has happened since you left” he whispers, returning his gaze back to you, his dark eyes burning through your sunglasses.  

Your mom suddenly appears at your side as she slips her arm into yours, pulling you back to the umbrellas. As you let her motion you back, your eyes watch him disappear into the crowd.  

This can't be happening. Opie didn’t just appear back into your life, uninvited. Your vision blurs as you lose yourself to an endless montage of memories. While the pastor speaks again, you think about how Opie was at your house everyday 6 years ago. Working on mechanics in the garage with your dad, or helping your mom put the sheep back in the barn, he became a part of your family. He seemed to care so much back then but he ended it all with a few words, one late night. 

Why is he here now?  

                                                                         You nod your head at your cousin as she gives you a life lecture on how to cope with death, how to be thankful for what you had and not dwell on what is lost. Yeah, all that bullshit. Her words drift around you, never penetrating your focus as you carefully watch across the room in the funeral home. As many were scattered around, conversing with one another, you could see Opie talk with your mom near the entrance of the building. You desperately try and make out what they were saying to each other as he places a hand on her shoulder. Their expressions confuse you as they seem to be.. comforting each other?  

It has been 6 years.  

Your cousin catches on to your lack of focus and chalks it up to shock. She embraces you with a warm hug before departing to lecture someone else on grief. You hold your gaze, slowly walking along the wall past the other bodies milling about, drowning out all the murmur of conversation. You continue to watch them.  

You cup your mug that’s half filled with coffee, as they shared a long hug. You feel the longing to approach them. Approach him. But the fear that resides within you, is too strong. You stay where you are, your feet planted to the ground. Even from a distance, he still makes you feel that certain glow like before. But it starts to fade as he exits the funeral home. Butterflies alight within you as your body takes you through the crowd towards the open doors. You’re desperate to see his figure once again, to convince yourself that this is real. You halt at the sight of his Harley parked by the curb. He stands next to it, his hands by his side. You follow his gaze as you realize he’s staring at the leftover dirt mound that was used for your father’s burial. You hold your breath as you pray, hoping that he’ll look back to find you standing there, to notice that you want another chance to talk with him.  

Your ears cry at the sound of his bike being fired up, your vision blurring once more as Opie fades away, disappearing down the hill, the rumbling turning mute. 

“Alright mum, enough with the excuses and start talking. Why were you speaking with Opie? Why was he even there?”  You question your mother as the two of you walk to the outside porch from the kitchen.  

After the service, you and your mother returned home in silence. Still absorbing all the shock that came with the funeral. After washing up and putting on dry clothes, the two of you started to putter around the house, cleaning up. You couldn’t wait long, as you kept thinking about Opie, to ask your mom for details. As subtle as she likes to think she is, your mother wasn’t. She seemed to enjoy taking her time with her answers, as if the little kid inside her was coming out via gossip.  

The two of you sat on the bench swing, listening to the farm animals.  

“Well darling, when you were away, a lot happened here” she says ever so casually.  

“Yeah, I'm starting to gather that” You respond with hints of annoyance.  

“Mmmhm” She hums.

“Okay, and... care to elaborate máthair?” You say through gritted teeth.  

“Just remember what you told me dear, you nearly tore my head off through the phone that day eh?”  

“What?..No, I-I don’t remember, what are you even talking about?” you throw your hands up in frustration.  

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want to hear anything about Ope anymore. Every time I brought him up as I should be allowed too, as he basically lived in this house, it irritated you” she spoke so matter of factly. “Don't you remember now? Nearly ripping my head off when I said he visited, and asked about you?”  

“Ar son Dé, máthair” you groan.  

“Dont you get all gaelic with me! I simply did what you asked. Now are you wanting me to fill you in or do you want to keep whining about it?” she questions, finger pointing at you. At least her sass was coming back.  

“Alright, alright. Yes, tell me, what happened while I was gone?” You say eagerly, feeling as if you've missed out on so much.  

With a loud sigh, she begins “Well, he visited a few times, here and there after you moved away. He spoke with your father about the club often, as you well know your dad was familiar with all the things that went on in Charming” her eyes rolled at this. “Your father heard about everything that happened in this town, sometimes before the plays were even made, you know how he was”.  

“Yes, I do. He stuck his nose and ears everywhere” You chuckled.  

“Anyhow, Opie got married which I told you”. The words immediately pained your chest.  

“Yes..., I remember that, and yes I know shortly after I didn’t want to hear anymore.”  

“Mmhm, that's right. Well, about a year after, his wife died”. 

Your hand covered your mouth.  “Oh my god...”. You whisper  

“It was due to the club, retaliation of some sort. I never got the full story and I don’t think I want to.” she shudders.

“Jesus christ.. I knew the club was changing but I never thought it was going dark...” You shake your head remembering his face from today, supporting you at the casket. Guilt rising as you think about your response to him. He’s lost someone too..  

“That’s not all my dear..” She takes a big inhale before exhaling loudly. You brace yourself.  

“Piney died last year... also, a consequence from the club”. She says shaking her head.  

“Piney... was killed?” You barely spoke the words.  

“Mmhm I don’t know the details on that one either. However I will say that Clay stepped down shortly after, and Jax took the gavel”. She pursed her lips together, looking at you.  

“Jax is president now? You ask, eyes wide. “Is Opie still a part of the club?”  

“Oh very much so, I believe he’s becoming the VP soon actually”.  

You shake your head in disbelief, mouth open and brows furrowed. This is not the charming you knew after all.  

“So..was he here cause...”

“Well after losing his wife and his father, we wanted to provide him a safe place. He was welcome anytime; we shared many dinners and conversations.” She chuckled, as you could see her reminiscing. “But when your dad was first diagnosed, Opie started coming weekly. He helped us with the farm, he helped your dad fix up the roof on the barn, hell he was doing the hay rolls for us. He just... he took care of us. Your father and him grew quite close. It was as if he was helping, to preserve your fathers dignity. Anything your father couldn't do..which was many things during his illness, Opie did.”

You look down at your feet, confused by all the emotions you feel. You’re thankful he was here for them, but you’re mad that he got that closure with your dad, especially after breaking your heart. Why did he deserve your family when he didn’t want you?  

“So, he was at the funeral today because he truly, missed your dad”. She whispered as she looked out into the farmland.  

You lean back into the bench, looking up at the stars. You can’t help but feel a bit foolish. A part of you thought, or even hoped, that he was there because he wanted to see you. But it all made sense now. You scoff at yourself. The impact this man has on you, has your mind playing tricks on you.  

“Did you know he was going to be there?” You ask, one brow raised.  

“I didn’t, he knew about it, but it wasn’t confirmed if he was coming.” she explained.  

“Well... that was very nice of him wasn’t it?” You look upon your mom, clearly seeing the signs. She really cared for him.  

“Yes, but that’s Opie for you” She whispered.  

Yeah, that's Opie alright. Caretaker of your parents, undertaker of your fucking heart. What a saint.  

You walk around the house, with your glass of scotch on the rocks in hand, looking at all the pictures on the wall. You smile at the ones of you when you were a wee lass, posing with your mom and your favorite cow, Misty.  

You chuckle, “tsk, she really was a good cow”.  

You find yourself walking towards the garage, mindful of the ice clinking in your glass as you pass your mother's room. It’s well after midnight and you didn't want to interrupt her much-needed rest.  

You unlock the bolt, and quietly step into the garage closing the door behind you. It’s been so long since you’ve seen her... The beast herself.  

“What the fuck?” You freeze in your tracks as you see the brown tarp laying flatly on the ground. 

“What... the... fuck?” you repeat slowly. You look around the dusty room, looking for the keys. Your dad’s old jacket hung off one of the toolboxes. You dig in the pockets, feeling no keys and instead, your fingers graze over a piece of paper.  

To your surprise, you pull out a letter. “What?” you whisper as you flip it over.

“Opie”

You’re fucking kidding me. He gets a message from the grave but not me? You shove the letter in your pocket.  

You make your way to the door re-entering the house, walking to your mother's bedroom door, careless of the noise you tried to suppress before. With a gentle knock, you turn the knob.  

“Mum.... hey mum.” You whisper loudly. Luckily, she’s never been a deep sleeper.  

“Yes y/n?” She responds dimly as if she had never dozed off.  

“Hey, sorry to wake you but... dad’s Harley, its gone??”  There’s panic in your voice. You were ready to sound alarms.  

That was your dad’s baby, one that was to be passed down to you. He was determined to teach you how to ride that machine, starting when you were a toddler. There’s pictures of him holding you, so you were standing on top of the Harley seat, at 3 years old. Pictures of you on the back, holding your dad, wearing a bicycle helmet, while he drove you around the property. Pictures of when you went through your “Metal” stage in your teen years. Holding onto the ape handles, barely able to muscle the sheer weight of the Harley while you look at the camera with a proud smile. Your dad on the side looking at you with such pride. When you were 18, you rode it to prom with Opie.  

Your dad said “Kiddo, whenever that rainbow decides to collect me, this girl right here, she belongs to you” he said gruffly while patting the Harley.

“Íosa Críost, you had me worried.” Your mom spoke through the moonlit room. She sat up, putting her glasses on.  

“The Harley?” You move towards the garage.  

“Yes honey, I know. I'm not sure how to say this but... well... “. She paused. “Your dad gave her to Ope.” she said in a whisper, knowing how much this may upset you.  

Yes. You’re riddled with anger and more confusion than ever; you wanted nothing but to break down and cry. But your mom didn’t need to deal with that. You look at her, seeing her wrinkles increase with concern.  

“Oh.. Okay, geez. Sorry mum, I thought the worst. Thought that it had been stolen. I'm sorry to wake you”. You whispered calmly.  

“That's quite alright dear, now get some sleep”. She blows you a kiss as you quietly close the door.  

What the fuck. You can’t help but feel like you’ve failed your dad.

He was dying, and you didn't show up. Opie did.  

You slammed back your drink, looking at the letter while putting your glass down. Every fiber of your being wanted to rip this open and read the mystery that resides inside.  

“I’m not thinking clearly”. You rubbed your eyes as you glared at it one more time.  

“Opie”

You put the letter on your nightstand, hands in your hair. “I’ll Just deal with it tomorrow” you told yourself. With one last look, you shook your head and crawled into bed.  

Before closing your eyes, you check your phone.  

7 missed calls - Declan.  

Fuck. “I’ll just deal... with it...tomorrow” You say to yourself a little louder. You toss your phone back in your bag and let the alcohol take you away.  

                                                                               The paper makes a quiet shuffle as you throw it onto the counter. Your mom looks over from the stove peering up through her glasses. “What’s that?” she questions.

“That, is a letter to Opie...from dad” You respond sternly.

“Oh really?” She hums as she walks over to inspect it closer. “Well would you look at that, I wonder if he forgot to give it to him”.  

“Maybe” you mumble. She hands the letter back to you. You take it in your hands, flip the paper and start to open it.  

“What on earth are you doing?!” She lectures as she rips it from your hands.  

“Is it so bad that I want to know what it says? what if it’s important?” You say with raised eyebrows. You already know how wrong this is, you just needed someone to confirm it.  

“Well then I’d suggest you take that Barracuda for a drive and go to TM and deliver it to him” she says as she puts one hand on her hip.  

That’s not what you were expecting.

“Your father clearly had more to say, and you’re robbing Opie of that, the longer you hold onto that letter”.  

You scoff. “You can’t be serious. I haven’t been there in years, mum. I don’t even know if I'd be welcomed!”.

“Only one way to find out” She turns and attends to the stove “Tell the boys I say hi.”

It’s happening. You’ve got your ripped skinny jeans on, your black tank top accessorized with your favorite worn out leather jacket recovered from your closet. You walk out of the house into the daylight towards your ride, your heeled boots thudding against the gravel.  

“You better be dancing on that rainbow dad” you mutter as you fire up the engine, bringing her to life.  

You peel out of the driveway, and race down the road. The sun shining down on your face, the fresh California air consuming you. You can’t fight the grin that appears as you delve into this feeling. It's been a few years, but it feels the same. There’s something that feels so right about wearing leather, driving a sexy car, and heading to the clubhouse. Your hair flows in the wind as you course through the back roads to that fork you saw a couple days ago.  

Left

You skid as you turn sharply, causing a burnout as you squeal down that road. Laughter escapes you, this amazing feeling arises, just by knowing you’re going to see the boys. You weren’t just a part of their gang when you dated Opie, they became your friends. You joined them on every travel trip they took for “club business”, riding on the back of Opie's bike. You partied with them, cheered on their cage fights. They were all you knew when you were in and out of high school. They were your life, here in Charming.  

As much as you feared seeing Opie in the flesh again, you couldn’t deny your excitement.  

Teller-Morrow Automotives

You turn into the driveway, the gate already opened and pulled to the side. You notice the lack of Harleys that are usually parked by the railing.  

You kill the engine. “Shit might have been a bad time to pull up.” You swing open the door and step out.  

“Holy shite! Bobby, it’s her!” You smile at the Scottish accent travelling across the lot.  

“Shut up! Y/N!” Bobby calls out to you. You laugh as you watch Chibs and Bobby practically skip-run over to you, smacking each other on the back.  

“Hey hey boys, long time no see!” You smile wide as these two grown men bear hug you, creating a huddle of you three.  

“Jesus Christ lass, I thought I'd never see you again,” He grabs your head to plant a big kiss to your cheek.  

“What’re you talking about, I knew she couldn’t stay away, she's always been a crow” Bobby chuckles as he grabs your shoulder, shaking you.  

“Something like that” you wink back.  

“Oh shite, darlin’ that’s right, I’m sorry to hear about Mr. M” Chibs hugs you again apologetically. Bobby nods at you as you look over Chibs shoulder.  

“He was a good man”.

“Thanks Bobby” You whisper.  

“I actually thought you was your mum pulling up in here, in his old ride” Chibs barked as he started inspecting your barracuda. “She looks like she could use a wee bit of a touch up aye, maybe a polish?”  

“I mean, I did just tear up the roads of Charming coming down here, no surprise if there’s some damage.” You winked at Bobby.  

“Ayyee That’s my girl” Chibs growls. “Come on inside, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do”.  

“Oh actually, I can’t stay” you watch as their faces fall slightly.  

“I’ve gotta see Ope, got something to deliver to him” You murmur looking down. Geez get a grip  

The boys ever so painfully, obviously glance at each other with the smuggest of expressions.  

“Oh, do you now” Chib grins.  

“Don’t give me that” you roll your eyes with a smile.  

Bobby spins, hearing it before us. The roar of the comrade coming down the street.  

“Aye looks like you can make your delivery right now” Chibs chirps at you.  

You suck on your teeth before blowing your lips “Looks that way.”

There they are  

Riding up like cowboys on stallions. You watch as you place your hands on your hips, inspecting each bike and rider. Narrating in your head.  

There's Tig, Happy, Juice, Rat, Jax and of course, Opie

Your stomach begins to flutter. You’re already overcome with intrusive thoughts.  

Was this a mistake?

Tig is the first to hop off his bike, throwing his helmet down on the ground with his mouth agape. “Hey! Is that... Is that who I think it is?”  

You shyly wave at Tig, failing at suppressing your excitement.  

You squeal as Tig bee lines it to you, running like a madman, trying to scare you just like he used to before.  

“Tig! Oh my god, you still do that” You laugh as he scoops you up, holding you in his arms.

“You son of a bitch, you think you can go nomad on us and not expect any consequences?” He growls, pretending to bite you as he continues to twirl you.  

“I'm not even a member!” you blurt out through your laughs.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jax pat Opie's back as they walk up to you.  

“I told you she’d come bro” you hear Jax say, smiling from ear to ear. You notice a hint of a smile hiding in Opie's beard.  

“Okay okay, share her you psycho, before you break her” Happy grunts as he deliberately peels Tig’s arms off you, just to engulf you in his.  

“Hi Happy” You muffle in his chest.

Happy always gave the best hugs. You feel yourself glowing, being charged with nostalgia. The happiness these boys bring you, just by the sounds of their laughs and banter. Like nothing ever changed. Happy pulls away, patting your head, then messing up your hair, “About time you came back” he says through his smirk.  

Like you’re his little sister, you try and smooth out the mess in your hair that Happy had to create. You do so as Jax approaches you, his blue eyes making you fall in love with the president all over again, he still has that charm. Back in the day, he almost won you over when you first met the boys, but when he introduced you to his best friend, the game was over. Opie effortlessly owned your heart.  

“Hey Darlin, you lost?” Jax winks as he pulls you into him by your waist. Okay you lied, Jax gave the best hugs. You wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his beard tickle you. You both squeeze tightly before you pull back to see him.  

“I heard about Mr. McGuire, I’m so sorry darlin” he whispers, his eyes filled with sorrow “Charming isn’t the same without him” He pinches your chin lightly.  

“Aye we don’t have our lucky leprechaun anymore, harassing the streets for information, I miss that bastard” Chibs says.  

“Thank you guys, truly. I really appreciate it. It’s been surreal to be back, and today has by far been the best day of my trip. I missed you guys” You speak softly, feeling vulnerable in this crowd of the most dangerous men in California.  

“That’s right, we have that effect on people, they just love us y’know” Tig cackles, clearly still thinking he’s the funniest thing alive.  

The group clammers and hollers, inviting you to come inside.  

“Listen, I … actually need a moment with Opie, if you don’t mind.” You get the words out, but as if you’re a shy schoolgirl.  

You see Opie’s head snap up. Eyes locking in with yours, as if you’ve shocked his core.  

“Alright, y’all heard the boss, clear out. We got church anyways, Ope, I know your vote, so no rush.”  

Jax leans into you, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Take your time Darlin.. Oh, by the way we’re throwing a party here for Ope, he’s getting promoted” He nods in his brother's direction “We would love for you come.” He grabs your hand, his cold rings bringing down your body temperature as it rises due to his touch.  

“Aye, she is, how else is she gun’ pay for that tune up” Chibs winks at you before blowing you a kiss.  

Before you can even argue that you shouldn’t go, the boys were already marching to the clubhouse. Everyone but Tig, who stood there, hands on his hip, staring through his shades.  

“Trager, let's go!” Jax orders.  

“Why? I wanna see what happens” Tig turns back to you, bearing a full smile. You see Opie raise his hands up in the air, mouthing to his straggly haired brother “What the fuck?”  

“Alright alright calm down, don’t get your panties in a twist, it’s not good for you” Opie rolls his eyes in defeat as Tig could never be subtle. Tig holds his finger in your direction “Good to see you doll, better see you here tonight.” With a swift hair fix, he makes his departure, walking away with the swagger he always possessed.  

You smirk “Fucking Tig” the corners of your lips stay upturned. Opie quietly chuckles, shaking his head.  

You suck in the air sharply, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed being all alone with Opie.  

“Is everything okay?” He breaks the silence with his gruff but honey-like voice, holding a firm grip on his beard.

You chuckle nervously, “Yeah, sorry to take you away from work.. I uh-”

“Nah, don’t be sorry, I'm happy you’re here cause y’know” He pauses with a click of his tongue “not sure when I'll see you again.. Could be another half a decade” He basically speaks under his breath near the end of his sentence.  

His arms are crossed, making him seem even bigger, taller, more intimidating than he already is. How is that possible? Yet seeing his wide stance, tattooed arms and slick back-man bun already cause embers to erupt into flames around your heart.  

“Well..that wasn’t my fault” You mumble looking down, eyebrows raised, yet peering up through your lashes. The two of you lock eyes, facial expressions turning smug matching one another as he grins, you grin back. The sarcasm you two shared seems to be very much alive.

“You look good” He smiles, flashing his silver fang, his gaze trailing down your figure before clenching his jaw.  

Your body quivers, responding to his not to subtle eye fuck, to the point you’re worried he might have noticed. His smile turns smug confirming he most definitely did.  

“Thanks” You bit your lip desperately, trying to conceal your smile. “Uhm .. right, here I meant to give you this.” You hand out the letter in one swift motion.  

“What’s this?” He asks, brows furrowed as he tentatively takes it from you. A shockwave of sparks jolted through you as his hand touched yours, causing your heart to flutter.  

“A letter...” You inhale deeply “from dad.” You chew on the inside of your lip, anxious to find any sign from Opie, regarding what mystery lies in that envelope.  

Ope glances up from the paper that looks so tiny in his hands, his eyes narrowing into yours.  

“Well, that’s unexpected” he clears his voice. “Thanks for giving it to me”

“Yeah, I mean I found it in his jacket and to be honest if it wasn’t for mum, I probably would’ve opened it so, you can thank her.” Why am I saying this

To your surprise, he chuckles. “You’ve never been good at that.”  

“At what?” You cock your head, making him grin.  

“Keeping your curiosity at bay, you always gotta find the meaning behind everything, even if it gets you in trouble.”  

You stare at him, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult.  

“I’m just pulling your leg” he says as he realizes your panic, loving how innocent you can be. Great, he can still read me like an open book.  

“Oh” You chuckle, feeling so fucking stupid. “Well, congratulations on your promotion, I better get back though.. It was nice seeing you... VP, take care.”  

You turn quickly, wanting to disappear. You feel disappointment arise in you, wishing this wasn’t a sequel to another goodbye. You’ve only been with him for a few minutes, and it terrifies you how quicky your feelings come undone, as if they have a mind of their own, fighting against your carefully constructed barriers. Surely, this was a bad idea after all.  

“Wait, hey wait” He calls after you, matching your steps from behind. You can feel his presence towering over you. He gently grips your arm to turn you. With a spin, you face him, your heart armored, ready to end this interaction once and for all. You just can’t take it anymore. His perfection cuts into you like broken glass, how did you ever lose him?  

“You really should come to the party tonight, they’re a lot of fun and- and the boys, they miss you so much, I... I feel like we have so much to catch up on.” He pauses watching your face shift, stunned at his words “Just come tonight, even for a little while.”  

“Please” He gazes at you.  

Wait, is he letting his guard down?  

He looks down at you, running one hand in his hair, making it extremely difficult to ignore the muscle bulging out of his bicep. “I’ll come pick you up, go for a little spin like old times” he motions towards his parked Harley.  

You nod, absorbing the high this man emits, just by hearing he wants time with you.  

“Okay.. maybe I will, I miss the boys a lot too, and... I think I've earned a night off with a few drinks and good music” You say smiling.  

“Yea, you have” He smiles back. “Uhm thanks again for the letter” he starts his descent backwards. “I’ll see you tonight okay, sweetcheeks?” He shoots a thumbs up at you.

Lightning strikes inside of you. He always called you sweetcheeks when you dated. Hearing it literally makes your body react, your core squeezing, your breath stolen.  

“Alright big guy” you chuckle.  

“Promise?” He hollers, his back to you, walking to the club.  

You chuckle harder, “I Promise!” You catch him sneak one more glance at you, his smile not so hidden anymore.  

You stand alone in the lot, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you might be right back to where you started? What you thought would be the end of a chapter, might be the beginning of one.  

You huff to yourself in disbelief, wondering if accepting this sudden shift within you is the right call. It’s familiarity overpowering. Your smirk as you know this outfit isn’t temporary anymore. The girl that wore jeans and leather religiously is returning. Deep down you already know you plan to make the most of it before your clock runs out, sending you back to where you came from.  

That’s it. Tonight, will be a night where history will unfold. It’ll be a night of release, a chance to be yourself again, unpolished. A night that will end with answers. 

She had entered the workplace, amidst Lyla’s warnings to look. The ever present question that permanently lived in her head, racketing up a storm. Was this her fault? As she stared down at the canine corpse, Rose felt a shiver run through her bones. As feeling tightened around her neck, the air crackling around her. Something was closing in on her.

Rose had expected to feel some sort of fear like her coworkers, unable to work properly or keep her eyes from staring at the dead dog but nothing worked. Instead, she worked harder, taking photos for her new shoot, comforted the girls around her and tried to help Luann wherever best. It was hard to share in the girls fear. It was primitive, a childlike fear of the unknown, of danger. Rose’s fear was different. Rage was pointed in her direction, and she was locked in its sight.

“What time does Gemma want us for dinner?”

Rose’s ears perked up as she heard Luann. Walking onto the production floor, she saw her boss in conversation with Bobby and another Son with shoulder length blond hair. She hastened a guess that it was the fabled Prince she had heard Ima lusting over. She continued to dry herself off and get dressed, concealed in the half shut door of the dressing room. Lyla had gone off and was no doubtedly talking to Opie. Rose waited patiently for her to come back.

“When did they get out?”

“A couple days ago” Lyla replied, only half paying attention.

“Oh” Roses’s eyes darted towards her bag, the home of the phone that hadn’t made a sound for the past few weeks aside from texts from her service provider and work associates.

“Were you expecting to hear from someone?” Lyla queried. 

“I guess not” Rose admitted doubtfully. 

“You ready to go?” Lyla asked, leaning against the dressing room door. Rose was half dressed, her jeans unbuttoned on her hips as she tugged a t-shirt on. Pulling the material down over her chest, she shook her head.

“I gotta talk to Luann first. Said she wants to see me-”

“Well don’t take too long” Lyla pressed, tapping her nails against the door frame, “I gotta pick up the kids and make food for family dinner tonight”

“I thought we were going out tonight” Rose stated softly, her brow furrowed. Lyla opened her mouth to speak before her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over it. 

“Oh my god Rose, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot we had plans tonight. Opie invited me to family dinner with his kids and the club and I totally forgot’ She blurted out before reluctantly reaching into her purse. She twisted her mouth as she looked at her phone and flipped it open,

“I could cancel?” 

“No it’s fine” Although Rose wanted nothing more than to spend the evening with Lyla and not return to her empty home, it was more than obvious that she had grown somewhat accustomed to Opie and this was an opportunity to spend time with him. Still, the thought of going to her empty home, even though Dante was waiting for her made her feel nauseous. 

She didn’t want to be alone. She needed not to be alone. Rose knew she had been relying on Lyla a bit too much recently, spending most evenings together since the Sons had gone into prison, helping her with the kids with Opie was busy looking after the club. Now they were out, she knew she needed to back off and create other fulfilling relationships If only she could delay it for a bit longer. 

 “Really?” Lyla’s eyes lit up, making Rose feel slightly better. Lyla was clearly happy with the progress with Opie and that quelled her nerves.

“Why don’t you come over while I cook to hang out? I can drop you off halfway later”

“Sounds good. Wine included?”

“I’ll pick some up on the way back’ Lyla bit her lip, ‘I’m kind of nervous”

Rose smiled softly and walked past her, heading towards the ajar door that lead to Luann’s office. Tapping gently with her knuckles, Rose peered around the door to find Luann and Bobby standing next to one another, gazing rather intently at each other. It was only when Rose cleared her throat that they noticed her presence.

“You wanted to see me?”

“I wanted to give you your first pay check in person” Luann answered, stopping away from Bobby who slinked out the room, to search her desk until she found the slip of paper.

“It’s already in your account, I just think it’s nicer to have something solid the first time round”

Rose ran her eyes across the slip, taking in the numbers. Not bad for a backwater town. Not that she needed the money. It was just nice to know she could keep doing what she was doing. Juice sorting out the tech had really sorted them out.

Juice. He had wandered into her mind again. Just tumbling in like a lost boy. Rose had found herself wondering what had happened to the sweet techie who had kept her company. It irked her somewhat. She still felt that infantile need for attention even if it was platonic. And she didn’t like when it was taken away. Smiling, she thanked Luann and made to head for the door when a thought made her stop. With all the chaos that had been going on around Caracara, she had remained vigilant, even occasionally taking down license plate numbers.

“Luann, it’s probably nothing but there’s this car that’s been parked down the road all day. Can’t see the plates or who’s in it but I’m definitely sure someone’s in there. I’m probably being paranoid but-” Rose paused, picking at a loose hangnail. Even saying the words felt ridiculous but they had to be said. The apprehension was building in her chest and Rose knew she would regret it if she stayed silent.

“Just...be careful. Please?”

“How do I look?” Lyla asked, smoothing her hair down in the rear view mirror. Rose sat across from her, a dish of pasta warming her thighs; Kenny, Ellie and Piper were seated in the backseat, all scrubbed up for the occasion.

“You sure Gemma won’t mind if I come in? I could wait outside...” Rose trailed off as Lyla shook her head.

“Just show her the proper respect and you’ll be fine. She’s the matriarch after all”

Exiting the car, Lyla led Rose and the kids into the house, holding the door open as Lyla carried in her dish. Shutting the door behind her, Rose followed the trio into the dining room, just in time to hear a barrage of insults directed towards her friend.

“Perfect. Serving hand jobs for dessert?” 

“That’s real nice in front of the kids!” Lyla cried, before slamming the dish on the table and storming out, nearly knocking Rose over in her rampage. 

“Kenny, Ellie, why don’t you go get washed up for dinner?” Rose reached forward and gently tapped their shoulders, prompting the kids to leave the room that was now rippling with tension, though nearly all eyes were averted. Gemma glanced at her, her eyes sparking with recognition, but her mouth down turned, sucking in whatever she wanted to say.

“Can I help you?”

“Lyla said you might have the number for a cab company”

 “Near the phone”

Once Rose had made the call to the cab company and put the phone down, she found herself in the company of a still fuming doctor. Looking at the woman, Rose wondered why she had chosen Lyla to shit on. She’d heard the rumours about the doctor, how she had returned to Charming, how she and the infamous Jax were soulmates, but also how she treated others around her. She was known to be judgemental and while Rose had never been in a confrontation with her, she knew the doctor had always had a few sharp words for Lyla, a fact that did not sit right with her. Rose just couldn’t help herself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Tara snapped.

“Why do you talk to Lyla like that?”

“Excuse me?” Tara was clearly still seething, the way her chest was heaving and the tiny telltale movements on her face.

“I said, why do you talk to Lyla like that?”

“Like what?” Tara snapped, her eyes fixated to challenge Rose’s own. Whatever had irked her was clearly still running through her veins but Rose was unable to drop it now. 

“You talk to her as if you think you’re better than her”

At this Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes and choosing to look at the space above her head. Taking a deep breath, Rose tried to persuade herself 

“All I’m asking is that you be nicer to her’ Rose placated, trying not to let her own temper boil over, ‘She’s not causing any trouble”

“I don’t really think it’s your place to comment”

“Just ease off her ok”

“Thanks but I think I’ll stay clear of advice from people who strip for a living”

“Jesus! What is your fucking problem?” Rose demanded, slamming her hand down on the counter. She’d been having enough of a shit day without Little Miss Holier Than Thou having a go at her.  Her head was now pounding, the blood screaming through her veins.

“My fucking problem? My fucking problem is the fact that every time I turn around, there’s a fucking crow eater in my god damn face”

“I’m not a croweater”

“Well you could have fooled me”

“I’m only gonna say this once. You don’t get to talk to me like that” Rose lowered her voice to a snarl. Tara had gone too far. Rose knew she was pissed at Gemma or whoever but she would be damned if she let her take out her issues on her. Her heart was starting to pound now, a temperature rising in her body as she pressed her fingernails into the palms. 

“Excuse me?!”

“Where do you get off treating everyone like shit, you-”

“Who even are you? You don’t know anything about me!”

“It doesn’t matter who I am! You don’t get to talk to anyone that way. Not Lyla and especially not me’ Rose couldn’t comprehend the rage that was being directed at her and Lyla. She was sure there had to be something more, some defining reason that a woman who had chosen to save lives was flying off the handle, but Rose couldn’t bear to rise above it. Instead of going high, Rose was going low.

“You don’t know anything about me-“

“And you don’t know anything about me, but I’ll be damned if you don’t take that bass out your voice when you talk to me”

Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.

“As if I’d listen to a second rate stripper”

"That’s enough! You will not disrespect me or Lyla to satisfy whatever vendetta you have against the world. Charming may be your home, but I’m from Brooklyn and I am the right bitch to put you in the wrong place. Watch your step around me!” With a final point in Tara’s direction, Rose made to make her way outside to look for her friend. Directing a brief apology at Gemma and thanking her for her hospitality, Rose exited the home, her legs moving so fast she felt like she would fall over if she stopped. Spotting Lyla, she headed in her direction, seemingly oblivious to the obvious company.

“You were right about that doctor, Lyla. She’s a real cun-“

“Rose!” Lyla blurted, her eyes urgent. She gestured to the blond haired man standing, “This is Jax. He’s with Tara”

Rose paused mid sentence, the ending of her sentence still hanging in her throat. Swallowing the prickly words, Rose offered a weak wave, knowing not much could be done to rectify it.

“You a glutton for punishment or something?”

Jax smiled softly, as if it were true. The love he had for Tara clearly ran deep if he was prepared to face the rage that was waiting inside. 

“I’m just a sucker for a pretty face” he offered, sticking his hand out for her to shake.

“Well I may have just poked the bear a bit. She’s not in the best mood. Sorry” Rose admitted, nodding towards Jax. He shrugged, clearly having already had his ear chewed off by the pair. 

“I should probably head inside” Jax said and swaggered off into the warmth of the house. 

“You gonna be ok out here?” Opie asked, nodding in her direction. Rose nodded. 

“I’ll be fine. Think I’ll go work out some of this aggression. See you at work?” She turned to Lyla who nodded in response and gave her a quick hug before heading back into the house. 

Sweat tricked down Rose’s throat as she drove into the sandbag with her fists, a mix of rage and exhaustion driving her on. She was angry. Angry about the dog, angry at Tara, angry at Juice. When she had run away to Charming, she theorised that she would spend her days wiling away the hours working at a cafe, drawing zero to none attention to herself. Yet here she was, moping over a boy who wouldn’t come over and play, fighting with stuck up doctors and saying prayers for murdered dogs. It was stuff that couldn’t be written in the most cliche story.

The sound of the boxing room door caught her attention and Rose pulled out her headphones, tiny techno ringing out softly. Taking a glance over her shoulder, she almost turned away but froze. Feeling the moment slow, and the ebony, toxic trace of fear run down her throat, she turned again.

You bounce your knee in anticipation as you sit on the wooden steps outside your mom’s house. It’s half past ten, and the stars are glistening brilliantly. The night air is crisp, leaving traces of goosebumps on your skin. You’re glad your leather jacket is warm as it doubles as your fashion and safety gear for the Harley. Your old helmet that once sat in the garage, collecting dust, now sits beside your feet. After a quick dusting and a brief try on to ensure it still fit, you were then, all ready to go for your night ride with Opie. You chew on the inside of your lip, thinking about all the possibilities this night could be or how it could end. Maybe it’ll offer as an opportunity to reconcile or put together the missing pieces of what happened with your family when you were away. The unseen relationship between your dad and Opie still didn’t make sense, and you demanded to know more.

You can hear the crackle of your Marlboro cigarette as you take a sharp inhale; A last-minute purchase you made on your way home from the clubhouse earlier this evening. You needed something to control your nerves, or were they butterflies? Who knows.

Earlier in the day you spoke with Declan, filling him in on your trip. Well, minus a few minor details such as this arranged bike ride with your ex you were about to encounter. He was glad to hear from you, but frustration lingered in his voice, understandably. You hadn’t maintained close contact with him since you arrived here in Charming, and it was evident to him. He was worried, and anxious for you to come home before the “poison” of your hometown, consumed you. He asked about the funeral, about your mom and with hesitation he asked about the club. You lied about being there, about seeing the boys, as you promised him before leaving, that you wouldn’t hurt yourself like that again. So much for that. You silently push away at the guilt that you feel creeping over you once again.

I’m just seeing my old friends again, is that so wrong? Yes, with Opie but… nothings going to happen.

You shake your head at yourself, knowing full well this is wrong. However you convince yourself that your intentions don’t reside about your feelings around Opie… no, it’s strictly about getting details surrounding your father.

As you took another drag, you wondered if the club still threw ragers like they did back in the day. You wondered, would Opie stick around you? Would he do shots with you? Play pool? Or is this just a ride to the club to catch up with your pals from the past. Either way, you were okay with the latter.

Your chest suddenly flutters, your blood rapidly starts coursing through your veins, the arrival of the much-awaited Harley, has sounded.

You watch the amber spotlight grow brighter as he pulls closer to the house from the gravel driveway. He’s here.

You can’t help but bear a grin, as you stand up to greet him, holding your helmet on your hip.

He slows down, placing his boots on the gravel to stabilize the bike. He leaves the engine running, ready for you to hop on.

“Hey! Need a ride?” He shouts over the rumble of the beast below him. His smirk burns into your skin.

You giggle “Now that’s an uber I can’t turn down.” You move towards him as he pats the backseat.

You slip on your helmet then reach your hands to his shoulders to brace yourself, swinging one leg over the bike. Unexpectedly, Opie reaches behind him and cups your thigh. Somewhat of an attempt to help secure you, as you place your feet into the nooks of his bike. He peers over his shoulder, his gaze causing heat to spread through your body, making you squirm behind him. As you adjust yourself in the seat, you look up at him, embarrassed at the fact that you’re already blushing from one look. Thank God it’s dark. You catch a glimpse of his dimples, a result of him smirking, as he turns to grip the handles.

He most definitely saw you gushing.

Without any warning, Opie fires the throttle and the two of you speed off into your own time zone, a world that is just itself. You quickly move your hands from gripping the leather of his jacket to wrapping your arms around his waist to brace yourself. It’s been a minute since you’ve been on a motorcycle, a Harley at that. Your body vibrates from the sheer adrenaline at the speed of his machine, and you love every second of it.

The frigid air slices your face, causing numbness to invade your senses. You press your forehead against Opie’s back in an attempt to block it out. You’re conscious of how tight your arms are wrapped around his waist, not wanting to make it obvious at how familiar and comfortable it all felt. Yet, you couldn’t ignore the difference you noticed in his size. He’s gotten substantially larger since the last time you saw him, but large as in, punch packed full of steroids. His stomach felt like a god damn brick wall, but you certainly don't mind it.

Your mind starts to wonder… how many croweaters has he gotten with since the breakup? How many girls has he pinned up against walls. Would he flirt with them tonight?  Surely those sluts hunt him down, especially with what he’s carrying below the belt, and you’re not talking about his side blade.

Without warning, Opie wreaks on the throttle harder, creating a bit of a wheelie. You yelp and grip your grasp tighter. Despite your heart skipping a beat due to the scare, you can’t fight the smile that works it’s way across your face. You know why he did that. It’s what he used to do before, as he loved the way you death gripped him. You feel the rumble of his laughter underneath his heavy leather causing you to giggle yourself. You bite your lip in surprise when you feel one of his gloved hands softly rest on yours. Caressing it. You slowly wriggle your thumb back, desperate to show him how much you’ve missed this, but you stop as you quickly remember what you’re here for. Not him.

Your eyes drift down at the pavement beneath you, the speed causing the yellow lines to zip by in a blur. The post lights become halos above you, when he surpasses each one. The silence is palpable between you two, regardless of the city noise. You forgot how peaceful riding can be.

You recognize the street; the clubhouse is close. A little bit of disappointment rises within you as you don’t wish this moment to end just yet.

Soon enough, Opie is backing his bike up to the railing, next to several of the other iconic parked Harleys. The clubhouse is alive with music, shouts, laughter and sounds of crashes. Opie is first to slide off his bike after kicking out the bike stand. He towers over the Harley as he reaches a hand out to you. You accept his assistance and slide off next. The two of you unbuckle your helmets, Opie grabbing yours to plant onto the seat of his bike, like he wanted the world to know that his back seat would forever be yours.

“You ready to face the music?” He questions with a smile “They’ve gotten worse over the years, can’t handle their alcohol as well as they used too, so… you’ve been warned” He chuckles, licking his bottom lip.

“Honestly Ope, I can’t wait” You see his face fall slightly as he wonders exactly what you mean.

The two of you stride towards the club door, walking in harmony. Just being next to him makes you feel powerful. You pass the fighting ring which is buzzing with commotion, yet you don’t recognize many of the faces around.  

“Hit him in the left nut Rat, he’s only got one!” Opie hollers at the boxers in the ring, bearing a full smile. Laughter ensues from the crowd.

You push the heavy door open, entering a scene straight out of a biker’s dream, a nun’s worst nightmare. The picture frames on the walls rattle due to the boom box emitting old rock lullabies. A grey hue lingers near the ceiling, evidence of heavily smoked devil’s lettuce and those addicted to Marlboros. The floor is sticky underneath your heeled boots, from several spilt alcoholic beverages.

Its hot, crowded, yet glorious all at the same time.

“Y/N!” You hear your name coming from the bar side.

There they are, the oh so familiar faces of your favourite biker crew. Juice and Chibs are in deep conversation, well, mostly Chibs nodding, listening to Juice’s thoughts or latest rants. Jax is charming some sweet butt, thriving on her thirst for validation but plans to eventually leave without her. Happy is bandaging his knuckles, his brows furrowed in such concentration. He must be next in the ring. Tig reaches over to help tape, but Happy pulls away, “I can do it” he grumbles. Tig rolls his eyes, bringing his attention to you. His jaw slightly drops before his face breaks out into a massive grin. His eyes growing dark. Oh Tig.

”I was starting to think you weren’t going to show!” Tig cackles as he pulls you into a hug. You squeeze him tightly, missing him more than you realized.

“I was starting to think Ope was getting some” Jax laughs at his own joke, causing a few to chuckle but left Chibs wheezing. That didn’t take long. Jax smirks at you, his eyes sparkling with what seems like gratitude for showing up with his best friend.

“Aye, the night is still young for these lovebirds” Chibs chortles, before taking a massive swig of his Power’s whiskey.

“Settle boys, she’s married” Opie states leaving you with a tight lip smile. Opie takes a joint from Jax’s hand.

“Awwwkward” Juice drawls in a loud whisper, thinking he’s subtle when he’s painfully not. You fully expected this. To be playfully teased at by this crew of assholes, but not this soon. You’re still way too sober.

“Alright, lets get this show on the road, get those shots lined up eh!” you yell, ready to get obliterated and move this night along to get past the tension residing in the air.

“Thatta girl!” Chibs hollers, waving over the croweater Jax was charming, to get drinks prepared.

Opie quietly leaves your side, to sit next to his president. You briefly watch them interact, and it makes you feel nostalgic seeing these two grown men still act like children. It’s nice to see that their relationship never changed.

Chibs and Hap motion you to come closer to the bar, asking you questions about your stay, how your mom has been doing, and why you weren’t staying in Charming. As if revisiting the clubhouse would be the source of all your answers in life, a solution for all your problems. How could you ever leave?

You laugh as you explain meeting Declan and how the two of you fell into an engagement last year. That a wedding and family was in the near future and that you are happy with the life you have built over there.

“Well sweetheart, tell me then, why isn’t he here with cha? A man shouldn’t leave his girl during such a time” Chibs leans over the counter, striking up a smoke, keeping his eyes on the lighter.

The bartender places a pint in front of you. With a big gulp, and a lick of the beer foam off your lips, you answer Chibs.

“Well actually I told him I wanted to come here alone; it wasn’t his choice…” You start to explain.

“Why?” Happy speaks to you for the first time tonight, his tone deep and blunt, his eyes dark with curiosity. He lifts his toothpick to his lips waiting on your answer.

“I just... I just needed time to myself. It’s complicated and hard to explain but I felt that I needed ... space... I guess” you shrug, feeling yourself shrink as you fail to provide any real explanations.

Chibs raises his brows before looking up at you “Y’ know sweetheart...” You wait for his words of wisdom to come out with his Scottish slur.

“It doesn’t sound that complicated to me” he pursed his lips, his dimples deepening into his scars. You see Happy slowly nodding in your peripheral vision.

Your jaw drops and your brows crease, your eyes widen due to the shock at the audacity that this man has to call you out. You pause briefly then with a scoff; you shake your head at him. You grip your drink, taking a considerable gulp as you finish the last bit of your beer and slam the empty glass down on the counter. With a clunk, the sound echoes, grasping the attention of Jax and Opie, their heads turning in your direction.

You take Chib’s tequila shot from his hand and dump it down the hatch, wiping your mouth clean of the burning sensation of your drink’s residue, with the back of your hand. You stare down Chibs, his eyes looking back at you hazily.

“It’s good to be back” is all you can manage to say. You see Opie raise a brow, assessing the situation. You swear he silently debated whether he needed to intrude or not, but you’re not sure if he actually would.

The boys continue watching you, waiting to hear what you’ll say next.

With a raised brow, you break the silence “Can we save this therapy shit for another time? I’m here to forget my demons for one night, unlike you guys, it’s every dusk to dawn”

You look at Happy, surprised to see him bearing a grin. He pats Chibs on the back “She’s still charming as ever” He swiftly approaches you, removing his toothpick before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“If you can keep up like you used too, then you won’t remember a thing, so hurry up before the sun rises, Cinderella” he says lowly, before disappearing into the crowd towards the doors to the fight ring, ready to draw blood.

“It’s hurry up before Midnight, ya fucking wanker!” Chibs yells across the room before chuckling to himself.

As more glasses clink on the counter, Juice and Tig are with you at the bar. Asking all about your life over in Ireland. You told them vaguely about Declan, showed them your engagement ring and shared stories about your little world in Dublin. The boys exchanged some stories about the club and all the dramas they had been roped into. Of course, being careful with how much information they exposed. They gave you a brief summary of their current situation - dangerous. That’s really the only thing you heard.

You braved a face, or maybe the liquor had finally hit, causing your expressions to become numb, but you contained your inner thoughts. In the back of your mind, you couldn't deny how terrifying each day must be for those wearing the kutte. The heaviness that must linger with each waking morning, facing the promise of an expecting bullet that lives in the arms of the clock, indefinitely. The way these boys probably struggle to drift off into sleep at night. You wondered how many of them have turned to substance, alcohol, or pussy for some form of comfort to help them sleep away the nightmares. You shudder at the thought.

As you’re immersed in a whirl wind of drunken laughter of those around you, you look over at Opie.

Your heart tightens at the sight of him laughing with Jax, rosy cheeks forming due to the whiskey, his eyes crinkling from smiling so hard. Of course, he would still be here after all this time, of course he’d be Vice President of this club. Why you ever thought he would be any where else, was naive. He’s loyal, reckless, he’ll face the devil any day. He’s always stood his ground and somehow showed no fear. Even in the past, when you thought he would finally reveal the fear of loosing you, such a thing did not exist. No, the only thing that was revealed, was how cruel he really was. Is he still the same?

Tig approaches you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hey doll, bottoms up” He smirks as he hands you another shot. You two clink the glass and shoot back the tequila. You wince at the hard alcohol, burning your throat. He takes the glasses and fumbles with putting them down onto the counter.

With a spin, his narrowing gaze lands on you “Let’s go” Tig holds out a hand, his eyes lidden with drunkenness. You giggle as you feebly hand yourself over, knowing a dance is in order. Maybe I am Cinderella after all.

The two of you push your way through the crowd underneath the dimmed lights. The floor vibrating from the boom boxes, the men in kutte dancing with their croweaters of the night. The two of you let yourselves loose, swaying and swinging to the sounds of rock and roll. He reaches for your hand, gripping you tightly and twirls you towards him. You laugh as you stumble against him, feeling so free due to the carelessness that is the club. Simply, because no one cares. No sinner judges another. At least not during a SAMCRO party like this.

“You better bless these wicked hands, cause they got a mind of their own… Don’t go downtown!” You and Tig sing in harmony, yelling the chorus to each other, bearing full smiles. Without warning, Tig pulls you close, resting your hand on his shoulder, his hand finds your waist, rocking you back and forth as the song slows down. He whistles along with the musician, so accurately that it almost pulls you into a trance. You feel your face warming up, yeah, the liquor had definitely made an appearance and time seems to have slowed down. The fact that Tig has you feeling such a way, his big hands on your little figure, has caused you to dampen. You rest your head against his chest, hiding your sudden arousal. Jesus.

He sings “This time is different, not like the times before” ... You feel him pull back looking down at you with those striking, hypnotizing blue eyes. You stare up at him, hardly rocking yourself. Tig bear all your weight and swayed you with him. You watched him scan your face, his eyes heavy with a mixture of substance and lust. You knew what was coming. Fuck it.

Just like that, Tigs lips interlock with yours, and you weren’t pulling away. He cradles your face as his tongue dips into yours. Your fingers slide into his curled hair, gripping handfuls, pulling yourself deeper into the kiss. You feel his hands lowering from your waist until they brushed over the hem of your jeans, cupping your ass.

“Oh god” He moans into your mouth. You lean into him, wanting to feel his hard on. It’s been way to long since you’ve been with a bad boy, a man that posses such dirty secrets, a man that has the ability to make one disappear. It excites you, makes you feel reckless and wild. You trail your hand down his chest –

Tig is suddenly ripped from your lips, all that feverish contact, gone. You blink hazily, realizing Opie had Tig’s shoulder by his kutte in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” Opie questions through gritted teeth. By the look of his glare, he was questioning you. He looks down at the drunken mess before him.

“She’s fucking married Tig, have some god damn restraint!” Opie shouts down at Tig, who was defeated, slumped lazily in his grasp. With a shove, Opie releases him.

“It’s the song man, it sucks me in every time” He shrugged, rubbing his eye with his palm, clearly obliterated.

“Sorry doll, I got carried away, but damn you sure know how to kiss” Tig says as he sways away. You grin at him, shrugging it off. It wasn’t all his fault.

You turn to face the giant who stood there before you, his jaw clenching “Wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing?” He speaks lowly, angry.

“I didn’t realize I had a babysitter” you respond, crossing your arms, still in a crowd of those unaware of what’s going on.

“I didn’t realize you were up for grabs tonight, especially when you’re wearing that diamond on your hand, I figured that would actually mean something to you.” He responds sharply, not missing a beat.

“I guess you also didn’t realize that what I do, is none of your damn business” you spit back. His face shifts, harder now. He didn’t like that.

“What you do in my club, makes it my business” He basically growls the words. “Get a grip, I’m taking you home.” He grabs your arm, pushing you to the doors.

“Fuck that” You argue like a kid, panic rising at all the fun coming to a swift end. You pull your arm out of his grasp.  "I didn't think you'd care about what I do" you stare him down.

"I never said I cared" the words come out as a sharp slap across your face. "But I'm starting to realize that bringing you here was a mistake" his eyes darken with anger. Yep, he’s still cruel

You grit your teeth, trying your best to suppress the burning sensation rising in your eyes. You blink to clear your vision; this interaction was one that was sobering you up quickly. 

"Oh, right? Since I am enjoying myself for one God damn night here in Charming, you can't stand the sight of me happy, that's a mistake to you? Well fucking tough Opie"

You jab your index at him, his body flinches with pure anger “You don't get to control me anymore, and you don't get to make me leave this time, so fuck you". You spit the words at him before turning to leave, to go to any place that doesn't accompany him. 

"That's it" you hear him growl behind you.

With a smirk, you feel a sense of pride as you realize you've finally put him in his place. He's most likely standing there, dumbfounded, feeling so stunned, looking so stupid to think he could still control you and shit, there's really no better feeli- 

The air gets knocked out of you when you're suddenly picked up -  no, more like scooped up as if you're weightless. Like a play doll, you're flung over Opie’s shoulder. Too stunned to fight, you look down at the crowd beneath you, cheering him on as if you're some sweet butt he snagged to shag for the night.

His beard tickles the side of your waist as you attempt to squirm out of his grasp. You see the crew catching on, locking eyes with yours and seeing the frustration and pure shock on your face.

"About time they start figuring their shit out!" Juice yells, slapping Chibs on the back. Chibs glares back at juice, unappreciative of his make-out session being interrupted as his tongue was throat deep in some girl. Once catching on, Chibs hollers at you before you descended to the rooftop by the mounted wall ladder. 

"Aye! You lovebirds be nice to each other!" He guffaws before returning to engulf his lady of the night.

"Opie, put me down!" You scream at him as he nears the rooftop. He gently bumps your head on the opening "oops" he sneers. 

"Ow, you're such a dick" you roll your eyes. He refuses to release you until his feet are planted on the rooftop. Once putting you down he closes the hatch and reaches into his pockets pulling out his smokes. He pulls out two cigarettes, handing you one. 

You murmur "thanks" as you take it. He lights up his and starts puffing for a steady pull, before handing you his bic. You lightly yank it from his thumb and index. You hear him take a deep inhale; he’s trying to calm down.

As you ignite your smoke, he breaks the silence. 

"Listen, I didn't mean to be as harsh as I was down there, but you're clearly going through it, I know you that much" You pretend as if you could care less about what he has to say as you slide his bic into your pocket. Your attitude gets pettier by the minute.

"You're not getting this back" you mumble as you try to ignore his point, tucking the lighter deep into your jeans. He continues, not caring about the bic.

"Your dad just passed away; you're tied down to some fool in Ireland" you look up defensively. Okay, maybe he’s the one being petty.

"And your mom is now on her own, so I understand why you're doing the things you did tonight, hell I probably would have done worse" As he pauses, you watch him carefully. "Actually, I did"

You see the pain across his face as it becomes clear he's thinking about his own losses. You're about to speak when he shakes off the memories. 

"But Tig?" He says with one brow raised "I gotta draw the line somewhere" he looks at you with concern and what seemed like a hint of jealousy. You let out a huff.

"Yeah the tequila took over the wheels there for a minute but... I have my reasons". You narrow him down, bringing your cigarette back to your lips, demonstrating that you're still cautious around the man you once loved. You aren’t in any condition to start explaining your life story to him especially when he’s the one responsible for the changing the course of your path years ago. 

As always, he read you so well. He gazes over you, admiring your resilience. He knows the hidden meaning in your words. He also knows that it was partly his fault for the lifestyle you live today. 

His eyes trace the rooftop, thinking about what he should say... If he should say it. God knows he had plans to address some of the issues that lay between you two and reveal some sensitive history. He knew he had to address the elephant in the room. It's what you both were waiting for. It’s why this stupid game of dance was still pursuing.

However, he couldn't brave it just yet. 

He cleared his throat, flicking his dimmed bud over the side of the roof before sitting himself down on one of the raised cubic vents. 

"Clubs kinda different than it was before, yeah?" He asks feeling idiotic as he couldn't think of anything else to say. 

You weren’t sure if Opie was going to bring up the past, but a part of you was relieved he didn't. You weren't ready yet either. You point at the space next to him, he shifted over watching you sit beside him. You could feel his eyes on you as you look out into the darkness, scanning for bright sparkles. 

You took another drag before exhaling, "Kind of? More like completely. Not just the club but your members too. You" you look at him.

He exhales sharply "yeah, things have progressed. We grew bigger along with our responsibilities which means the threat grew bigger too" he looks down at his calloused hands. “Clubs changed us all in a way, and dark shit keeps happening” he pulls his toque off, revealing his man-bun while running a palm against his hair “hoping things will turn around with Jax as pres now … but I doubt it” he whispers as he puts his beanie back on.

“Shit” you murmur “I’m sorry...”

You contemplate on asking about his wife, his dad, but as you realize the last thing you’d want to talk about were your own losses, you figure he'd feel the same. You also had intentions of asking him about your dad’s letter, if he read it. If he would tell you a little bit about their relationship. However, tonight has been a lot. You decide to put it on the back burner... for now. You change the subject. 

"Some fool in Ireland, eh?" You quote him, he burst out loudly. "What makes you think that huh?" You smile at him, thoroughly enjoying the sound of his laughter. 

"Cause he's some teacher at some college" he speaks through his devilish grin. 

"Part time surgeon that teaches medical at a university, actually" you correct him, tilting your head so matter of factly, still grinning at his laughs.

"Right right, well either way, he’s... not your type" he shakes his head, his chuckles slowing.

"I never pictured you with someone like that" He quickly regains that persona he’s been wearing this whole visit, realizing he may have let his vulnerability slip out. His face hardens back to being serious, as if he's ashamed he relaxed for one fucking second. 

"I didn't either" you whisper, looking down. His breathing deepens, getting louder in the still, cold night air. You catch him looking down at your ring. 

"Guy definitely could've done a little better with the hardware" he says unimpressed.

"What! You think so? I don't think it's so bad..." You fawn over the diamond "I mean... It is a little .. girly" you bite your bottom lip, trying not to laugh as you hear him chuckle. 

"Gimme it" he commands, his voice gravelly.

With confusion you look at him, unsure what he means.

"Yeah, that, take it off" he waves his fingers motioning you to remove it. You hesitate, then carefully pull it off your finger. You look at him, then to his open, awaiting hand. You drop your ring into it. He looks upon it again, but this time you swear he was fighting back the urge to absolutely launch your ring off the roof. 

He tightly grips his fist securing it, whilst removing his own sterling silver, weighted, reaper engraved ring from the other. 

"Here, give me your hand" he says sternly. You rest your fingers on his palm as he swiftly slid his way too big ring to your briefly naked finger. You start to giggle. What is he doing?

"Now that's a ring you'd want, a ring that matches you y/n" he says, looking at it. His cheeks get rosy again.

You're not sure why, maybe it's because it's the first time he's said your name since you arrived here, but it gripped your heart ever so tightly, that it hurt. You swallow hard, forcing a smile, struggling to get words out as you start fighting the tightness in your chest. You don’t trust that you won't tremble or reveal weakness. You clench your jaw, and exhale heavily, quivering. Fuck. 

"Its really heavy" You manage to breathe out, smiling. 

You turn to face him, to notice he is already looking at you.

Right there, you swear that he's about to do something he shouldn't. You stare at him, your body frozen, anticipating what's going to happen next. Your heart flutters when his hand reaches up to your face – “Opie” you stir -

"Yo VP!" Jaxs voice startles the both of you out of whatever trance that was. The two of you quickly stand up to the ledge, to see the President down below.

"I'm heading home, just making sure you guys aren't bloody!" he chuckles as he strides backwards to the parked Harley's. 

"Don't worry Jax, He shouldn't be too bruised by the time I'm done with him, he'll make it to work tomorrow!" You yell to him, grinning. 

"I knew he was in good hands! By the way, the suites are a lot more comfortable than up there, take my word for it!" he shouts across the compound, putting on his helmet. 

You blush immediately at the words. 

"This is cleaner than those bedsheets, but thanks brother!" Opie hollers back, smirking.

"I'll take your word for it!" Jax winks. 

"Oh my god" Opie mumbles to you "I swear I don't hangout in the suites" he starts to reassure you, but you can't stop laughing. 

"Sure Ope, Suuuuure" you drawl, loving every second of his embarrassment. "Who doesn't love sleeping with a little bit of Bobbies body fluids" you cackle. He responds in groans but is unable to repress his smile at your silliness. 

                                                                          You're not sure when, or how but sometime throughout the night you and Opie fell asleep underneath the blanket of stars. The two of you shared memories and learned some new things about each other, which were harmless for the most part. Constant laughter echoed into the night.

Being up there on that rooftop, away from the chaos, you guys unfolded just enough to be yourselves again. No walls, no judgment, no anger, no resentment. This night, in a silent agreement, you both turned off the switch that held grudges in exchange for some time into the past, where you guys were friends again, and maybe a little more.

 You blink hazily, your eyes immediately pinging with soreness at the welcome of bright sunlight. It takes you a minute to adjust and recollect where the hell you are. 

"What the fuck..."  You groan to yourself as you realize you slept on a roof. Your body aches as you shift yourself upwards off your back. To your surprise, Opie lay there beneath you.

The memories come rushing in. You swiftly turn your head to look up at the snoozed beast, in a deep sleep snoring ever so lightly. You had fallen asleep, resting your head on his lap, with his back up against the vent as you both sat down below it to get comfier last night. You feel the weight of his heavy Kutte and leather jacket that he had sprawled over you, to keep you warm. You vaguely remember this. As you perch yourself up, you check to see how many Harleys remained.

Still a few, which means few are still in last nights reverie, passed out in the suites or on pool tables. 

You rub your eyes, taking a deep breath of that California air. You take another glance around the compound, your heart filling with utmost joy. This used to be your home, and it still feels like it.

You quietly lean back down onto Opie, just a few more minutes of this moment before you leave this place for good.

Sudden panic flourishes within you as you shoot back upwards, you realize your mum is probably up worrying about you. You quickly check your phone –

three missed calls from Declan.

Shit, that too.