"Don't go setting fires when there's nothing to burn."
A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.
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Tig Trager x Fem!OC...
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Warnings: mentions of death, grief, Tig (ofc), usual SOA shit.
Irked, Chibs stuffed his cellphone into the pocket of his cut with a prolonged fuck to accompany the squelch of glass against leather.
He couldn't get a firm grip on anything this morning.
Jax was at large, Isla and Tig had rolled onto the lot together looking much, much too comfortable, and Gemma was chewing every goddamn soul's ear off about her son.
To say that he wanted the day to be over—before it had even commenced—was the understatement of the fucking year.
"Where the hell is he?" Clay barked from the front of the garage, turning to eye Isla directly. "You sure you haven't seen him?"
"If I knew where he was, I would've told you by now." Her retort was just as curt, prompting Tig to tense in his spot beside her.
He twined his hand around her bicep in order to calm her, but it was no use.
"Well somebody must know where he is—"
"You tried callin' Tara?" Chibs cut the president off, hoping he'd be able to take some of the heat off of his daughter—the one that seemed to get all of Clay's Jax-fueled frustrations launched atop her these days.
He just glared at the Scot.
"I can swing by his place? Make sure he ain't there?" Tig offered.
"He isn't. Wendy would've said."
"Alright," the sergeant smacked his lips together. "We're gonna have to go without him, then."
Isla hummed, agreeing with Tig.
That forced a vexed snarl from Clay, and she wanted to throttle him for being so fucking haughty today.
"What? He has a point. If we wait around for him, then we're gonna be late and the other Sons will get to the cemetery before us. Jax knows where we're going, and what time this fucking funeral starts, so just trust that he'll be there!"
Her outburst was completely uncharacteristic. It was brash and loud, and Clay realized that her emotions were running a hell of a lot higher today than what they usually would have, so he allowed it to pass.
He cut her some slack because that was what she needed. Isla needed to blow off some steam, to raise her voice and yell out her frustrations because she would've let them bubble over, otherwise.
Plus, unbeknownst to him, she had started to take the Mirtazapine that had been prescribed to her, and she still didn't know how to feel about it.
It was odd. Everything about today, was just fucking odd.
"Kids right." The rasped acknowledgment came from Happy this time, nodding in her direction with that signature stoic expression he was known to host. "Jax wouldn't miss this."
