Chapter Three
THAT BIKER WAS taking up entirely too much of my headspace. He’d carried me out of hell, and somehow my thoughts kept circling back to him, the grit along his jaw, the heat of his arm around me, the way his voice had cut through the smoke like a promise.
I was supposed to be starting over. Fresh start. Clean slate. No room for a man—especially one built like temptation itself, all dark hair and eyes the color of a perfect blue sky.
But damn if he didn’t look handsome as the sin I was raised to fear.
His swagger alone made me want to throw every vow, every whispered rule I’d ever lived by straight into the wind.
“You okay?” Miriam’s voice broke through my thoughts. She lowered herself onto the porch swing beside me, the chain links squeaking in protest. “You look deep in thought, honey.”
“I’m just making plans,” I said, managing a small smile. “I’m ready to start living, Miriam.”
She chuckled low, warm as sunlight. “Oh, I remember that feelin’.
Took me years to settle, even longer to believe I could have a life again.
Zeke was still little back then, and I had to learn how to be someone other than scared.
” Her mouth curved into a grin. “Once he grew up, though, I had some fun to make up for all those stolen years.”
Her words stirred something in me. Maybe longing. Maybe envy.
“So would it hurt your feelings,” I asked carefully, “if I said I don’t want to stay here long?”
She gave a knowing smile. “You won’t hurt my feelings one bit. This farm’s a place to rest, not to root. We all need different things in our life, honey. What are you plannin’?”
“I don’t know exactly.” I looked toward the field where the grass still glistened from the rain. “I want noise. Laughter. I want to hear life happening around me. Not just the creak of wood and the hum of quiet.”
Miriam laughed softly, reaching over to take my hand in hers. “You surprise me, Lark. After what you’ve been through—the things you saw, the scars you carry—most folks would’ve folded. But you? You’ve still got a spark burnin’. That’s rare.”
Her words landed deep, but I couldn’t tell her the truth, that my scars hadn’t shamed me back there because everyone was marked. Out here, I was the only one. Out here, they weren’t holy, they were reminders. Ugly. Visible.
And every time Chain’s gaze caught them, something in me twisted. Not shame. Not quite. But close.
Miriam’s thumb brushed my knuckles, soft and steady. “The women from the club’ll be here soon. They’ll help you find your footing. Talk to ’em, see what they can offer. They’re good people—fierce, loyal.”
“I will,” I said. “You’ve done enough already.”
“Nonsense.” She waved me off. “You earned your right to peace same as the rest of us.”
I stood, the porch boards cool under my bare feet, and looked out toward the long dirt road where last night’s storm had washed everything clean. The horizon stretched wide and wild, open in a way I hadn’t seen since I was a girl.
“I think I’ll take a walk,” I said, mostly to myself.
“Don’t go too far,” she warned, her accent softening the words. “Storm’ll roll back in soon.”
I smiled, tugged the shawl tighter, and stepped off the porch. The air smelled like wet cedar and freedom.
Maybe I wasn’t strong yet. Maybe I didn’t even know what that meant. But I knew one thing clear as sunrise, I was done living just to survive.
The sky deepened toward dusk, streaks of gold cutting through the last clouds. The air carried that clean after-rain scent, the kind that clings to everything it touches.
I walked past the muddy tire tracks, into the tall grass that brushed my calves, whispering as I moved. For the first time in years, there was no one watching. No Shepherd’s eyes following my steps. No whispers. Just me.
My hands ached in the cooling air, the scars pulling tight, but I didn’t hide them. I lifted them, palms up, and watched the light catch the uneven skin.
They’d tried to take everything from me, my will, my body, my right to choose. They hadn’t taken this.
Touch. That was mine now.
Who I reached for.
Who I wanted near.
Who I let close enough to feel my heartbeat.
A smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it, thinking of the man who’d carried me through the fire. The one with the rough hands and the deep voice that had felt like safety.
You’re safe now, darlin’.
The memory of his voice brushed against my mind like a hand I wasn’t ready to let go of.
The wind shifted, carrying a distant rumble down the road—a motorcycle, faint but familiar. My pulse jumped before I could tell it not to. I could almost see him under that bruised sky, jaw set, eyes sharp on the horizon.
Something in me leaned toward that sound, quiet and certain. I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat steady against my palm.
I didn’t belong to anyone anymore, but I wasn’t afraid to feel.
Not this time. Not ever again.
I stood at the edge of the pasture until the last light faded, the world hushed but alive. Behind me, the farmhouse windows glowed soft and safe. Ahead, the road stretched into shadow—open and waiting.
For the first time, I didn’t have to ask permission to follow it.
And that felt like freedom.