𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 ☠ 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙖𝙬𝙨 𝙈𝙤𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙮𝙘𝙡𝙚 𝘾𝙡𝙪𝙗

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏.

"I'm really proud of you Isla," Pheobe grinned at her best friend as she motioned around them. Isla beamed back at her best friend, feeling pleased that Pheobe was impressed with her accomplishments. "Only a year ago you were living in the club house, now you're living in an apartment on your own!"

"I told you living in the club house wasn't for me," Isla chuckled as she carried to cups of steaming hot chocolate out from the kitchen. She handed one to Pheobe who had made herself at home on the large couch. Isla sat down on the singular one, flicking her blonde hair over her back and out of her face. "Working in a cafe has surprisingly been good to me. I mean before I moved back I was working in an office complex so it's a major change but I like it," Isla smiled, her lips squeezing together. 

"Well you have every reason to be happy for yourself Isla," Pheobe nodded at her before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. "You've also decorated the place nicely."

"Of course I have!" Isla snorted at her, looking around to see green plants in white pots scattered around. Of course they were fake, Isla couldn't take on the maintenance of real plants. A lot of her furniture was white so the greenery popped against it. "One thing I couldn't stand with the club house was not being able to decorate it the way I wanted to." Pheobe chuckled, not surprised by her friend's comment. "And look at you! With your vest," Isla grinned, pointing out the Reaper Outlaw's kutte Pheobe now wore.

"Kutte," Pheobe corrected. "And yes, I like it. For a long time since Mother died I felt like my whole family was gone... I guess joining the mc gave me a family," Pheobe opened up. Isla smiled at her, some reason her heart stinging in slight jealousy. Ever since Isla was a child she always imagined herself having a family of her own. She really thought that Declan could give her that but all he gave her was bad memories and trust issues. 

"And things with Braxten? How are they going?" Isla asked her. She often avoided asking Pheobe about her relationship with her Dad. After all, she has noticed tension between them after they took care of some business a year ago. Isla watched as Pheobe's jaw tightened at the thought of him. 

"I can't forget what he did," Pheobe shook her head. "Killing Valimar was a bad choice. Valimar helped us and he just offed him like he was nothing," Pheobe let out a sigh before taking a sip from the hot chocolate once again. "Anyone could tell he wasn't going to be a future threat."

Isla sipped her hot chocolate awkwardly. She understood the club did bad things like kill people. But that doesn't mean it has to sit right with her. Most of the time the Reaper Outlaws worked as protection, trying to steer to a more legal path instead of dealing guns like last year. Or at least that's what she has been told.

"I know you blame yourself," Isla informed. Pheobe raised an eyebrow at her. "You're my best friend, I can tell. But that's not on you."

"I...I know," Pheobe sighed, brushing her hair back with a hand. Isla gave her a sympathetic smile. 

"You need to move on, it's been a year," Isla nodded at her. 

"Are you over Declan?" Pheobe asked. Isla blinked at her, unexpected to that question. Her and Declan had been together for three years, it was only last year things went down hill. "I don't mean it in a rude way... I've just noticed you haven't seemed interested in finding a relationship which I'm surpr-"

"I'm too busy for that," Isla cut her off, swallowing back the building lump of anxiety in her throat. Isla put her hot chocolate down onto the small coffee table when she felt her palms start to become clamy, wiping them on her denim jeans. 

"You don't miss him, do you?" Pheobe questioned, noticing how quick Isla cut her off. If only Pheobe knew the real story. Isla shook her head quickly. Pheobe frowned at her before her phone began to ring. Isla felt relief wash over her like a wave at the sound. Pheobe excused herself before pulling her phone out of her pocket and answering it.