Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE RUMBLE OF the bike echoed through the quiet backroads as we sped away from the clubhouse, heading toward Folly Beach. It was still dark out and his headlight cast long shadows across the road. The air was thick with the scent of morning, fresh and alive.
The roar of Bolt’s motorcycle sounded in my ear as my head lay against his back, the cool morning air whipping me. I clung to him, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist, the familiar vibration of the engine beneath us calming my nerves.
I leaned into the ride, closing my eyes for a moment and letting the wind carry away the lingering fears, the doubts that still clung to me.
As we rode, the landscape began to shift. The towering oak trees with their Spanish moss gave way to clusters of palmettos, and soon they were flanked by stretches of sand dunes and sea grass swaying gently in the ocean breeze as we approached the coast. I leaned even more into him, my arms tightening around his waist.
We reached the beach just as the sun began to rise, casting the world in shades of gold and pink. We parked the bike near a cluster of driftwood and sea oats. The beach was nearly empty this early, only a few scattered locals walking their dogs or fishing from the shore.
Cutting the engine, the sudden quiet felt almost surreal. I slid off the bike, took off the helmet and breathed in the salty air. The ocean stretched out before us, calm and endless, and for the first time in a long time, I felt... at peace.
Bolt climbed off his bike, his gaze fixed on the water as he tucked the helmets inside his saddlebag. We didn’t say anything at first, just started walking toward the shore, the soft sand crunching under our shoes. It was silent, except for the gentle sound of the waves lapping at the shore, and a weathered pier stretching out into the Atlantic, a solitary lookout against the brightening sky.
My eyes took in the scene I had hungered for over the last few years. The small waves rolled in, cresting with a froth of white foam before retreating back into the depths. Gulls circled overhead, their cries blending with the sound of the surf. The sun was higher now, casting a golden light across the water, making the water shimmer as if dusted with diamonds.
We walked side by side along the edge of the water and I kicked at the occasional seashell or piece of driftwood, laughing softly.
I could feel him watching me.
What was he seeing?
The way the ocean breeze tangled my hair, or the way the sunlight caught my eyes the same way it shone in his. For a moment, everything else faded away—the club, James, the weight of what Bolt had said that night—and all that was left was the quiet, timeless rhythm of the waves and the peace of the open shore.
I glanced at him, the silence between us comfortable but heavy with what was happening between us. It was obvious; he was carrying something inside him that he wasn’t sure how to say.
“I used to come here all the time,” I said softly, breaking the moment. “And when things got bad with James, I came back here, in my mind at least. It was like he couldn’t touch it, couldn’t steal it away.”
Bolt nodded, but didn’t respond right away. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wasn’t just listening—he was feeling something. Something heavy.
“How did it get that bad?” he finally asked, his voice rough. “When I was a kid, it was just all I ever knew, like I was born into it... and I suppose I was.”
I swallowed hard, the familiar knot tightening in my chest as I remembered the slow, insidious way everything had fallen apart. The hard part, how to explain it.
“It wasn’t always like that,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “At first, he was... perfect. He made me feel like I was everything to him. We met at the farmer’s market, and he came every Saturday morning, looking so handsome, with a huge smile on his face. When we started dating, he was every girl’s dream. Good looking, loving, and had a good job as an insurance agent.”
I stopped for a second, taking a deep breath. Damn, this was hard to talk about.
“But then it changed. Slowly , little things until he controlled everything. What I wore, who I could see, the money. It didn’t seem like a big deal at first. I thought it was his way of loving me. I thought he was caring for me.”
I hesitated again, the memories too raw, too close.
“By the time I realized what was happening, I was trapped and when I complained, he started getting physical. He made it seem like it was my fault and at first, I believed it. Figured if I just did better, if I just stopped arguing with him, he wouldn’t get angry. I even tried running a few times. He caught me before I could even leave town, threatened to kill me, my dad, and anyone I loved.”
Bolt stopped walking, his jaw clenched, eyes dark as he looked out at the ocean. “You didn’t deserve that. Not for a second.”
I nodded, blinking back tears. “I know that, knew even when it was happening. But at the time... it wasn’t that easy. He made me feel like I had no way out, made me believe even someone like my dad couldn’t help me. It took him putting a knife to my throat to make me realize he was going to end up killing me one day. I knew I had to call dad and get out.”
“He’s a dead man, Fiona!” Bolt growled, stopping us, looking into my eyes. “I promise you that.”
I sighed as we continued walking. “It’s because I love my dad that I don’t tell him the full extent of James’ abuse. He would kill him. I don’t want dad going to jail, the guilt and sadness would kill me. Same goes for you. I’ll separate from him within the confines of the law.”
The silence stretched between us, the sound of the waves filling the space. I could see something shifting in Bolt’s expression, something deeper than just anger at what had happened to me.
“I understand you feelin’ that way,” he said after a few moments, and I knew he didn’t care about the law. In the club, they had their own justice. “My mom... she must have felt the same way.”
I wanted to say something, but I could tell I just needed to let him talk without interruption.
“She stayed with my dad no matter what,” Bolt continued, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “He beat her all the time. Controlled her... and me . And I hated her for it. For not leavin’. For letting him treat her that way.” He shook his head, his fists clenched tight. “But now... hearin’ what you went through, I get it. It’s not that simple, is it? She needed more than me demandin’ she walk out the door.”
My throat tightened with all the memories this was bringing forth, making it hard to swallow, but I know talking about this was helping Bolt.
“Every situation is different, I imagine. I can’t say what she needed, but what I can say is in her mind she was trapped.”
“I judged her,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I judged you too. But I shouldn’t have. I just—” He broke off, shaking his head like he couldn’t find the words. “My mom... she’s dead, he killed her, he’s been sittin’ in the pen for going on twenty-years now.”
His words hit me hard. The weight of them settled deep in my chest. This was the man who’d always seemed so untouchable, so invulnerable, but here he was, opening up to me in a way I never expected.
I took a step closer to him, my heart pounding, as I wrapped my arms around him. “It’s okay, Bolt, you were a kid. There was no way for you to understand.”
He buried his face in my hair before pulling back, his eyes locking onto mine, and for the first time, I saw the vulnerability there. The anger, the pain, the regret was all there, laid bare. He wasn’t just the tough, impenetrable biker I’d thought he was. He was human. And he was hurting, just like me.
“I cut her off after I moved out. I had begged her to leave with me and when she didn’t, I screamed at her for being weak and pathetic. She died that next year, thinkin’ I hated her,” he said, his voice low, sad.
I kept my arms around him, the warmth of his skin grounding me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say.
For a moment, the only sound was the crashing of the waves, the wind blowing gently through the air. Then Bolt tilted his face closer to mine, his hand brushing against my cheek, his touch warm and gentle.
“I care about you Fiona,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “And I swear I’m not out to hurt you.”
“I believe you,” I whispered back, my heart racing. “I feel safe with you, connected to you”
He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just inches from mine, and I could feel the heat between us, the pull that had been building for weeks, maybe even since I set eyes on him. And when his lips finally touched mine, it was like everything else faded away. The past, the pain, the doubts—it all disappeared, leaving just the two of us standing there on the beach, wrapped up in each other.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but then it deepened, and I felt myself sinking into it. Bolt’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself fall. I let myself be held, be wanted, to feel .
When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. Bolt rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.
“I don’t know where this goes,” he said, his voice husky. “But I’m all in, Fiona. Whatever this is, I’m in.”
I smiled, the weight of the past still there, but lighter now. “Me too.”
And as we stood there on the beach, the sun rising behind us; I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could start living again.