I lean into him, resting my head against his chest. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. I don’t want the club to think I’m some weak tagalong.”
“Club’s not weak, and sure as hell, neither are you,” he says. “You’re the first woman to slap Echo that hard and not blink afterward. That ain’t weakness, Red. That’s fire.”
His words catch me off guard and I laugh, even as doubt lingers in the back of my mind. “And what happens if someone actually asks me to do something for the club? What if I can’t? What if I freak out because I can’t even walk to the corner store some days?”
He grips my chin again, holding my gaze. “You’re not patched in. No one’s gonna ask you for s**t. You don’t run errands, you don’t take orders, you don’t owe anyone anything. That’s not how this works.”
It sounds
