Chapter 29
Jo-Leigh
“You’ve been sitting here three days, Jo-Leigh. Three fucking days. He hasn’t called. He hasn’t texted. Hasn’t checked if you’re okay.”
I swallow hard, forcing the words out through the knot in my throat. “Swag has his reasons.”
“Yeah,” Seth says, bitter and quiet. “Reasons that sure as hell don’t include you.”
I flinch, and he sees it. He uses it.
“You love him,” he says, softer now, his gaze searching mine. “I know you do. But tell me something. Do you feel loved back?”
“I…”
My lips part, but nothing comes out, and that hesitation, that flicker of doubt, is all the opening he needs. Seth leans in, close enough that I can feel his breath when he speaks, but his tone stays steady and deliberate.
“I’ve known you since we were kids, Jo-Leigh. I know what you deserve. And it’s not sitting in this empty clubhouse, waiting for scraps of someone else’s loyalty while he plays hero in New York.”
My stomach twists painfully, and I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing my hands along my sleeves like I can hold my ribs together.
“You don’t know what’s happening,” I whisper, but my voice cracks halfway.
He exhales sharply, shaking his head, and when he looks at me again, there’s something raw in his expression.
“I know exactly what’s happening. Ricky Langston’s pulling strings, Swag’s tangled up in it, and you…” His voice lowers, threaded with frustration and something softer. “You’re gonna be collateral damage if you stay here.”
The words land like stones sinking deep in my chest.
“I can’t just leave,” I whisper. “This is my life. It’s…” My throat tightens. “He’s my life.”
“I’m not asking you to stop loving him,” he says quietly. “I’m asking you to love yourself enough to get out before this place eats you alive.”
I shake my head, turning away before he sees the tears threatening to spill. My hand comes up to my throat. To the faint bruises, the teeth marks Swag left behind like a brand. And shame burns hot behind my ribs.
“Those marks…” He takes a step closer, voice quiet, steady, controlled. “They don’t mean he chose you, Jo-Leigh. They just mean he could. That’s the difference.”
I turn on him, sharp, defensive. “You don’t know him.”
“No,” Seth says, steady, unflinching. “But I know you.”
That stops me cold. He closes the last bit of space between us, and I can feel the heat rolling off him, his voice pitched low and intimate now.
“You’ve been fighting your whole life, haven’t you? To be seen. To be wanted. To be enough.” His gaze pins me, heavy and unrelenting. “I see you, Jo-Leigh. Always have.”
I can’t breathe. My pulse thrums fast and uneven, and I hate that he feels safer than he should. It should be Swag saying these things to me! Not him.
Seth leans down slightly, his forehead almost brushing mine, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Come with me.”
I shake my head, even as my body betrays me by staying still, my breath hitching under the weight of his.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, the words soft, coaxing.
“We leave tonight. You and me. Away from the club. Away from Ricky Langston. Away from all of it.” His hand hovers near mine, not touching, but close enough I feel the heat of it.
“I’ll take care of you, Jo-Leigh. Always, just like when we were kids. ”
I close my eyes, the room spinning as guilt, heartbreak, and exhaustion tangle until I can’t separate one from the other.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says softly, his tone gentle enough to sound like mercy. “Just think about how it felt when he walked away. Think about how it feels knowing where he is, who he’s with, and how little he’s given you in return.”
I open my eyes and look at him, and for the first time in three days, I let myself really see Seth — the boy I once knew, the man he’s become, the lifeline he’s dangling in front of me.
And the truth settles in my chest like a betrayal I can’t name.
I’m already considering it.
The day passes by in a blur of emotions. I stare at my phone, willing it to ring. It never does. By midnight, I get in Swag’s bed and try to sleep.
I fail.
The night drags, stretching out slow and suffocating, every creak of the clubhouse settling into the silence around me. The sheets still smell like Swag. My skin still aches in the places he touched, the bruises fading but the memory refusing to.
Every time I close my eyes, Seth’s words replay in my head like poison dripping slow.
Even knowing he’s inside another woman right now?
I see you, Jo-Leigh. Always have.
Come with me.
I keep telling myself I’m not going to do it. That I’m stronger than this. That I trust Swag. But hours later, when the darkness settles thick enough to swallow me whole, I’m pacing the floor barefoot, my chest tight, throat raw from holding back tears.
There’s one single thought that shifts everything for me.
I love Swag. I do. But how can this work?
How can we be together? And how can we start a family when things are like this?
My hand goes to my stomach. I could be pregnant now.
We never used any form of birth control.
What kind of life would that be for a baby?
Before I even know I’ve made the decision, I’m in the hallway, moving on autopilot, the cold wood biting into my soles as I make my way to Seth’s room.
I hesitate outside his door, heart pounding loud enough I’m sure it’ll wake the whole damn clubhouse.
My knuckles hover in the air, frozen, but the weight in my chest drags them down.
I knock. The door opens almost immediately, like he’s been waiting.
Seth stands there barefoot, sweatpants slung low on his hips, tattoos sharp under the soft wash of the hallway light. His expression shifts when he sees me like he knew this was coming but isn’t going to make me feel worse for it.
“You sure?” he asks softly. No pressure or judgment. Just an open door and a way out.
I swallow hard, my voice breaking on the single word. “Yeah.”
For a second, we just stand there in the silence, everything unspoken between us filling the space until I feel like I can’t breathe.
Then he steps back, motioning me inside.
I cross the threshold, my bare feet sinking into his rug, and when he closes the door behind me, the sound lands like a decision being locked into place.
Seth keeps his distance at first, leaning against the dresser, arms folded loosely across his chest.
“You’re not choosing him right now. You’re choosing yourself. That’s what this is.”
I nod, though my chest aches like I’ve been cracked open, my lungs filling with something sharp. He moves then, slow and deliberate, crouching to pull a small duffel bag from under his bed. The sight of it sends a cold shiver down my spine.
“You planned this?” I whisper.
“I planned for me,” he says simply. “But I hoped…” He meets my gaze, his voice lowering. “I hoped you’d trust me enough to come.”
I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, fingers curling into my palms. “I don’t know if this is a mistake.”
“It’s not. Staying here and waiting for him to remember you exist is the mistake.”
The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, and finally, I nod.
“Okay.”
That’s all it takes. Seth’s shoulders drop just slightly, tension easing, but his eyes stay sharp, watching me carefully as he shoves a few more things into the bag. Then he straightens, slinging it over his shoulder, and crosses the room until he’s standing in front of me.
“Once we leave, Jo-Leigh,” he says softly, “there’s no coming back. You understand that, right?”
My throat is too tight to answer, so I just nod.
He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek with his fingertips and whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”
I don’t know why the words make my chest ache worse, but they do.
“Did you pack?”
I shake my head.
“Come on. Let’s get your stuff.”
We go back to Swag’s room, and I pack my clothes. When I reach for my phone, Seth stops me.
“Leave it. He’ll be able to track you.”
I know he’s probably right, but it makes me uneasy thinking about leaving my phone. He gives me a long look, and I set it on the nightstand.
“I guess I’m ready.”
The clubhouse is dead quiet, every shadow stretched long and heavy under the faint hallway light. Seth’s duffel is slung over his shoulder, his movements silent like he’s done this before. Like he’s done a lot of things I don’t want to think too hard about.
I follow him, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it echoes off the walls. Every creak of a board sounds like a scream in the silence, and I keep waiting for someone to throw a door open, to ask where we’re going, to stop me before this becomes real.
But no one comes.
Seth glances back at me once, his eyes unreadable in the low light. He doesn’t speak, just lifts a finger to his lips and keeps moving.
When we reach the back door, Seth pauses, listening. Somewhere in the distance, a motorcycle engine roars, fading down the road, but here it’s silent. He turns the handle slow, easing the door open inch by inch until the cool night air spills in, sharp and damp.
I hesitate on the threshold, my stomach twisting, the weight of the choice settling heavier than I expected.
This is it. Once I step through, there’s no going back.
I should stop. I should turn around. I should stay.
But I don’t. I follow him out into the darkness, the door clicking softly shut behind us like the closing of a chapter I didn’t mean to end.
The night wraps around me, cool and endless, the scent of damp earth and asphalt sharp in the air.
My lungs feel too tight, like there isn’t enough oxygen, like the deeper I breathe the harder it gets to take the next step.
Seth leads me across the gravel lot to where his bike waits tucked between two others, hidden in the shadows. The metal gleams under the distant security light, cold and dark, and the sight of it makes my pulse kick harder.
“You sure about this?” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, careful.
I open my mouth, but the words don’t come.
So I nod instead, even though my body feels like it’s vibrating with doubt.
Seth studies me for a second, like he’s testing the weight of my resolve, but then he just pulls an extra helmet from his bag and holds it out.
My hands tremble as I take it. The helmet clicks into place, loud in the silence, final somehow.
Seth swings onto the bike, his shoulders broad under the dark fabric of his shirt, and glances back at me.
“Let’s go.”
I climb on behind him, my fingers curling into the leather of his jacket, and before I can take one last look at the clubhouse, at the life I’m leaving, the engine roars to life beneath us.
The gravel crunches as he backs us out, then we’re rolling forward, the wind rushing up to swallow the sound of my heartbeat.
I bury my face into his back as we hit the road, the cold air biting at my skin, tears stinging hot against my cheeks.
Every mile we put between us and that door feels heavier than the last. Because deep down, under the panic and adrenaline and aching want for something different, I already know the truth:
I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.