Chapter 29
Poppy
You Look Like You Love Me by Ella Langley
School’s out, and Owen and I got home not too long ago.
The shop’s closed tonight, and it’s time to finally just breathe.
I just got out of the shower, hair still damp and curling at the ends, skin warm and loose in that way that only happens when you’re finally done for the day.
I’m in soft pants and a worn T-shirt, curled up on the couch like I don’t have anywhere else to be. Because I don’t.
Ollie’s beside me, stretched out with Ellie tucked against his chest. She’s swaddled tight, tiny and warm, her cheek pressed into his shirt like that’s exactly where she belongs. His hand rests on her back, steady and absentminded, like he doesn’t even have to think about it anymore.
Below us, the shop is alive with music thumping through the floorboards, bass-heavy and loud enough that I can feel it in my chest. I hear Mack’s laugh echo up the stairs, loud and easy, followed by Owen’s higher voice, excited and proud and talking a mile a minute.
They’ve been downstairs working on an old go-kart in one of the empty bays, taking advantage of us only being open two days a week and working on their own fun projects on the off days.
This is what I wanted for him. For us. A place that feels safe and normal.
I stare at the ceiling, brain half-on, drifting.
What do we want to make for dinner? Something easy.
Pasta, maybe. Or breakfast for dinner. Eggs and toast and whatever’s left in the fridge.
I should probably ask Owen what he wants.
He’ll say something ridiculous but then end up eating seconds of whatever we put in front of him anyway.
It’s just what he does—pretend to complain but he secretly loves anything.
Ellie makes a soft noise, and Ollie adjusts her automatically, murmuring something under his breath that sounds like it’s just for her. It makes my chest ache in that quiet, full way I’m starting to recognize.
Footsteps hit the stairs. I look over and wait for either Mack or Owen to open the door to the apartment, asking what’s for dinner.
Owen appears in the doorway, and the look on his face pulls me upright instantly. His brows are drawn together, mouth set, eyes darting behind him like he already wishes he wasn’t the one delivering the news.
“Poppy,” he says, out of breath. “Bikers are here.”
My stomach drops. “Is it Sully?” I ask, sliding on my shoes.
“I didn’t see him.” He shakes his head. “One of them is asking for you.”
Ollie stands, going tense beside me, every muscle locking into place. His arm tightens around Ellie without even realizing it. The calm is gone. And I know whatever dinner plan I was thinking about doesn’t matter anymore.
“Wait for us,” Ollie tells Owen, calm and firm. “Stick with Mack. Don’t leave her side.”
Owen hesitates, looking at me. “They don’t look mad or anything.”
“I’ll see what they want,” I say. “It’s okay.”
Owen nods and disappears down the stairs.
Ollie adjusts Ellie higher on his chest. She lets out a tiny sigh, completely unbothered by the tension wrapping tight around the room.
“I’d tell you to stay up here, but I know you won’t,” he says to me.
“No,” I say immediately. “I’m dealing with them.”
He looks at me, and I know he wants to argue. Instead, he exhales through his nose and shakes his head, looking pissed. “Fine,” he says. “But you stay right next to me.”
We head down the stairs together.
The music cuts off the second we step into the bay.
Mack’s standing by the go-kart, hands on her hips, posture casual but eyes sharp. Owen’s beside her, arms crossed, trying to look menacing and not succeeding.
The front bay door is open, and it shouldn’t be. They were supposed to be tinkering with the closed sign on the door.
Three bikes are parked just outside next to a truck with tinted windows.
Three of the men are leaning against their bikes.
One has his helmet tucked under his arm.
The other’s arms are crossed, expression unreadable.
The third is standing a little apart, hands loose at his sides, eyes scanning the shop.
I don’t miss the way Ollie shifts Ellie.
“What do you want?” Ollie asks. His voice is calm, but there’s something sharp underneath it, something that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
I give him a look that says chill, but he ignores me.
Grave flicks his gaze curiously to the baby for half a second before returning to Ollie.
“Easy,” Grave says. “We’re not here for trouble. We brought you something.”
“I fixed the bike you dropped off. Someone already came to get it,” I say, stepping forward despite Ollie’s hand tightening behind me.
Grave’s eyes slide to me. “I have two things for you.”
Mack moves closer to Owen without making it obvious. Owen leans into her instinctively, like he knows exactly where he’s safest.
“We don’t need anything from you,” Ollie clips.
Grave nods. “It’s not from me.”
“Who is it from?” I say.
Grave’s mouth twitches. “Sully.”
The word hits like a punch. Ollie’s body goes rigid. His arm flexes around Ellie protectively.
“We don’t want anything from him, either.” I shake my head.
Grave’s gaze hardens just a little. “That’s too bad, because you’re getting it anyway until we say otherwise.”
“Anything Sully gives comes with expectations or strings attached,” I say. “And we don’t want him around. You promised.”
Grave nods again. “I keep my promises. He won’t be coming around anymore.”
“Then what is it?” Ollie asks, voice easy but eyes cold.
Graves holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he nods to a guy in the truck who gets out. I watch as the dog from the biker compound jumps down from the car after him and looks around, then runs to me, his tail wagging.
Without thinking, I lean down and pet him. “Hi, Bandit. How are you doing, good buddy?”
Owen gasps. “A dog! Cool!” The dog turns and runs to him next, hunched, tail wagging, excitedly.
Ollie looks at me, confused. “Whose dog is this?”
“Bandit belongs with a family,” Grave says. “He’s yours now. Figure he’d make a good shop dog.”
Ummm, okay? I mean, life just handed me a baby and a husband, what’s a dog, too?
Bandit doesn’t look bothered at all, and his tongue is out, tail wagging as he circles Owen, excitedly. And judging by Owen’s reaction, it’s a good match.
Grave hands me a thick envelope, then walks back over and swings a leg over his bike. The others follow without a word.
Engines roar to life and take off, the truck following them. When they pull away, the silence they leave behind feels heavier than the noise of their bikes did.
I exhale shakily. “Did we just get a dog?”
Ollie doesn’t move. He stands there, just as confused as me, Ellie tucked tight against him, eyes locked on the open door long after the bikes disappear.
Ollie finally look down and Ellie blinks up at him, completely content, one tiny fist gripping his shirt. He presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“How do you know this dog?” he murmurs. “And why did they leave him here?”
“I think he was supposed to be the guard dog at their club, but he wasn’t doing his job very well.” I shrug. “He’s a good boy.”
I step into Ollie, sliding my hands around his waist, pressing my face into his chest. “I don’t know, but Owen looks pretty happy.”
Owen is laughing with Mack and playing with Bandit, who didn’t look the least bit bothered that his owners left him in a strange place.
I shut the doors and make sure the front door to the shop is locked. “Don’t open the bay doors,” I tell them, and they nod, playing with the dog.
“Let’s get him a water bowl,” I hear Owen say. “Oh, they left his food and bowls.”
We shut ourselves into the office, the door clicking closed behind us. The hum of the shop fades, replaced by the small, contained quiet of paperwork and old coffee and motor oil that never quite leaves the walls.
Ollie dumps the envelope onto the desk.
Bills of various amounts fall out. Mostly twenties. Holy crap.
I stare at it for a second before I start counting, fingers steady even though my chest feels tight. One hundred. Two. Five. I stack them into neat piles, the way I always do, like order makes things easier to swallow.
“There’s a couple grand here,” I say finally.
The words feel strange in my mouth. Unreal.
Ollie lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”
I stare at the cash for a second longer than necessary. Not counting it. Just looking at it. My stomach twists, old instincts kicking in fast and hard.
“They must be shaking down Sully,” I say. “I wonder if he likes how it feels.”
His mouth pulls into a hard line. “He owes you. For everything he took. And for never supporting Owen.”
I shrug, forcing casual even though my chest feels tight. “I’m probably never going to see the rest.”
That part still hurts. Not the money itself, but what it represents. Years of scraping by. Of skipping meals without thinking twice so Owen could eat. Of pretending hunger was normal. Of telling myself I didn’t need much anyway.
I look down at the bills again, really seeing them this time.
Because my life doesn’t look like that anymore.
I’ve got steady work now. A paycheck I can count on.
Full benefits. A job where people respect me.
I’m helping Owen in ways I never could before, and there’s money coming in from the bikers too.
Money they’re insisting I take. Money that doesn’t feel like it’s going to vanish the second I breathe wrong.
Ollie’s voice pulls me back. “Maybe,” he says. “But save this. Just in case. We can start a savings account for Owen if you want.”
Something warm and overwhelming swells in my chest.
An account. Savings. A future that isn’t built on panic and crossed fingers.
I nod slowly, the amazement settling in deep. “Yeah,” I say softly. “I’d like that.”
I gather the cash and tuck it away carefully, like it’s fragile.
Not because I’m afraid to lose it.
But because it feels like proof that my life is changing.
And for the first time, I don’t feel guilty for letting myself believe it.
I nod and slide the money back into the envelope, and the office door creaks open.
Owen peers in, eyes immediately locking on the desk. “Cool,” he says, grinning. “We’re rich. Can we go out to eat?”
I laugh, sharply and tired, and shake my head. “Nope. I’m not going anywhere tonight. I’ve had enough people interacting.”
I lean into Ollie, resting my head against his shoulder. He tips his head slightly, resting his cheek against my hair like it’s instinct.
I stand and flip off the lights in the bay. “I’m going to start dinner. Don’t talk to strangers or let them in.”
“Got it,” Mack says.
“Can we at least keep the dog?” Owen asks.
He’s already kneeling, Bandit losing his mind, kissing his face, spinning in tight circles like he’s won the lottery. Owen’s laughter fills the shop, bright and free.
I look at Ollie.
Something in him softens. I can see it happen in real time.
“Yeah, bud,” he says quietly. “You can keep the dog.”
“Yes,” Owen squeals.
Mack laughs and drops down to pet Bandit, who accepts the attention like this is exactly where he’s always belonged.
Later that night, the shop is dark and quiet. Ollie’s doing one last check of the doors. Ellie’s already down, snuggled into her bassinet, arms tucked in tight, breathing slow and even.
I poke my head into Owen’s room and nearly jump when Bandit’s head pops up from the bed. His tail thumps hard against the frame.
“Oh,” I whisper. I forgot you were here now. I crouch and scratch behind his ears, his whole body leaning into my hand.
“Take good care of my brother,” I murmur, kissing his head.
He licks my hand as if he understands the assignment.
Gifts come in many forms. This one was meant for Owen. They were inseparable all night. Bandit followed him everywhere, even lying outside the bathroom while Owen showered, waiting like it was his job.
When I finally crawl into bed, Ollie pulls me close, his arm solid around my waist.
“Maybe the bikers aren’t that bad,” I murmur, half asleep. “They bring presents. Like fairy godmothers on motorcycles.”
Ollie exhales slowly. “I’m just afraid of what they’ll want in return. And how it’ll look if they’re hanging around with CPS watching.”
All valid concerns. I sigh and drift off to sleep in Ollie’s arms.