Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Damn it.
I grab the part, nod at the cashier, and leave quickly. The moment I step back into the sunlight, an uneasy tension crawls up my spine.
A truck idles at the far end of the lot.
Dark tint.
No plates.
Engine humming low.
I narrow my eyes.
It’s probably nothing—just someone waiting on a friend or running late. Freedom Falls isn’t exactly a crime capital.
But the way the driver’s silhouette turns toward me has me on alert. The way the truck pulls out slowly as I head toward my bike makes me take notice. The way the engine revs like it’s marking me has my attention.
I file it away in the back of my mind. A note. A warning.
Something isn’t right.
But instead of investigating, of following my instinct, I do the dumbest thing I could’ve done:
I ride back toward downtown. Toward the bakery. Toward her.
I tell myself I’m not stopping. I’m just passing by. Checking in. Making sure she’s okay after how tense things got.
But when I reach the street, she isn’t in the window. Ally is ringing someone up. The display case is glowing with fresh pastries.
Kelly is nowhere to be seen. She’s probably in the back baking. Ally and Kelly switch off baking so neither of them get burned out.
My chest squeezes again.
I shouldn’t look for her. Shouldn’t want to walk inside. Shouldn’t care this much.
But I do.
I pull over across the street, kill the engine, and sit there staring like an absolute idiot. Minutes pass. Nothing.
Just when I finally force myself to leave, my phone buzzes.
Mellow: You comin’ back? Chux needs you.
I hesitate. My eyes go back to the bakery.
If I go in and talk to her now, I’ll make things worse. I know that. Logic knows that.
But my heart—God help me—wants to push open that door and beg her to take back everything she said. Instead, I type one sentence:
On my way.
I start the engine again, the rumble doing nothing to drown out the chaos in my skull.
The clubhouse is louder now—music thrumming, brothers scattered around with beer or tools or cards. Normal. Predictable. Something I should’ve felt relieved to walk into.
Instead, I feel restless. Strung tight. Unsettled.
Mellow spots me. “Hey, broody fuck. Chux said—”
“I’m here,” I cut him off, heading to the office.
Chux looks up when I step inside. “Took you long enough.”
“Traffic,” I lie.
He nods toward the seat across from him. “We got intel from Nitro about some movement on the outskirts. Russian ties.”
“Again?” I ask sharply.
“Splinter groups,” he says. “Nothing direct yet. But enough to keep eyes open.”
My pulse ticks up.
I think of the dark truck at the hardware store.
“You see anything off today?” Chux asks, reading my expression immediately.
“A truck,” I admit. “Tinted windows. No plates. Driver was watchin’ me.”
“That’s somethin’,” he says. “You follow him?”
“No.”
“And why the hell not?”
I clench my jaw. “Had shit on my mind.”
His stare is cold disappointment. “Get it off your mind. We don’t miss details. Not now.”
I nod, shame burning hot under my skin. Because he’s right. I fucked up.
Kelly’s face flashes again—hurt, confused, trying to hide the way her voice cracked. My chest caves a little.
I don’t want to picture her alone right now.
Don’t want to imagine her thinking I didn’t care.
Don’t want to think about her walking to her car feeling like she wasn’t worth fighting for.
But the image won’t leave.
Chux studies me for a long moment. “Go home. Shower. Clear your head. Then get back here ready to work.”
I nod and stand. But before I reach the door, he adds, “And Riot?”
I pause. “You ended things with her.” He doesn’t say it cruelly. Just matter-of-fact. “But don’t lie to yourself. You care. And you’re gonna have to face that sooner or later.”
I don’t answer. Can’t. Not without something in me cracking open. I head out of the clubhouse, boots heavy on the wooden floorboards. I’m halfway across the lot when my phone buzzes again.
This time, it’s Ally.
Ally: Hey. Have you talked to Kelly since you left?
My gut twists.
Me: Why?
A long pause.
Ally: She left work early. Didn’t look good. Just checking on her.
My chest pulls tight.
Me: I’m sure she’s fine.
Another lie.
Another thing I tell myself so I don’t turn my bike around and show up at her door like the weak, lovesick idiot I swore I’d never be. But even as I hit send, a bad feeling curls low in my stomach.
Something I can’t shake. Something heavy and wrong.
The sun is setting. The shadows are long. I feel like I made a mistake I won’t be able to fix.
Three
Ledger
Sleep doesn’t stick.
I drift for maybe twenty minutes at a time before snapping awake, heart racing like I’ve been running, chest tight, sheets twisted around my legs. Every time I close my eyes, I see her in that hallway at the bakery.
Her chin up. Her eyes wet, but not allowing the tears to fall. Her voice steady even as the ground shifted under both our feet.