Old Habits Die Hard Part One
Word count: 8K
Pairing: Opie Winston X reader
Summary: In this part, reader returns to Charming due to her father’s funeral. She’s left to confront the past she ran away from.. and reveal history.
Author’s Note: My first Opie fic & I'm so happy to be writing about this grizzly man! This is a bit of a slow burning start, but I promise part two will be 🌶️!!! If you enjoyed, please show me and Opie some love 💖
Big thanks to @alohomorasomnium for helping me with this! (Kisses)
Warnings: Use of y/n, Talk of death, foul language, some Gaelic dialogue, and perhaps fluff?
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.
It’ll be a night that Opie will never forget, and something tells you, neither will you.
