Chapter Two
Tizzy
I smile again as Grease pulls my sweet baby girl closer to his chest, his rough hands gentle as they glide over her arms and shoulders, checking for any sign of harm. His eyes scan her like a protective hawk, and the sheer love and relief in his expression squeezes my chest. He murmurs something to her—words too low for me to hear—but the soft, reverent tone says enough. My baby girl is safe, loved, and exactly where she’s meant to be. For the first time in what feels like forever, I allow myself to let go of the breath I’ve been holding. She’s free. She’s happy. And she’s home.
I couldn’t have chosen better for her if I’d tried, and I’ll be damned if I’m not grateful to the good Lord above for bringing her to this moment. As Grease pulls her into one last hug, his arms wrapping around her as if he’ll never let go, I know without a doubt that she’s exactly where she was always meant to end up.
It’s bittersweet—watching her settle so perfectly into this life, this family, this love. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted for her, but it also leaves me with the quiet ache of realizing my role has shifted. My purpose, tied to her safety and happiness for so long, is no longer as pressing as it once was. It’s time to let go. Time to move forward. Time to figure out what’s next for me. Time to dust off these ol’ boots and find my stomping ground.
I take one last look around the yard. The scene is chaos, but it’s the good kind. The firefighters have mostly subdued the blaze, the smoky remnants rising in lazy tendrils toward the sky. Club members are scattered in small groups, some checking over their bikes, others tending to the rattled but unharmed women and children. And then there’s him.
I feel his eyes on me before I even spot him. It’s a prickling sensation, a heat at the back of my neck that’s as familiar as it is unnerving. There’s no mistaking who it is—who it always is. Devon. Or should I say Ghost? When I finally meet his gaze, it’s like a bolt of lightning straight to my chest. He doesn’t bother hiding it, the way his eyes linger on me with that mix of amusement and something deeper—something darker.
Even at this distance, I can feel him. The tension coils low in my belly, a mix of irritation and something much more dangerous. My lips curl into a smirk, and I throw in a wink, refusing to let him see how unsteady he makes me. His lips twitch, but he doesn’t move from his post in the shadows. Turning forward again, I try to ignore how his gaze lingers, burning through my resolve like a brand. Once I’m out of his sight, I let the smirk fade, my shoulders sagging as I release a shaky breath. God help me; that man is infuriating, frustrating, and… delicious.
“Focus,” I whisper to myself. I need to stay on the task at hand instead of getting my head all swoony and fuzzy. But still…
How does he do that? How does he make me feel so… exposed and yet so safe? It’s a strange, almost intoxicating mix, and I can’t decide if it’s thrilling or terrifying. Maybe both. But I don’t have time to dwell on it. I have plans, and I know I'll lose my nerve if I think about them for too long. If I let myself get sidetracked by how his voice rumbles in my chest or the way his lips quirk when he’s amused, I’ll never leave.
I need to leave. I need to go out into the big, bad world and figure out what’s left for me now that my baby girl has found her place. My soul aches for the open road, for the kind of freedom I’ve put off for far too long. And tonight? Tonight is the night I’m finally going to take it.
Moving through the commotion, I grab a cup of lemonade from the table. My eyes scan the yard, searching for the perfect distraction. The Ol’ Ladies are standing together, talking animatedly, their laughter carrying over the hum of voices and the sound of boots crunching on gravel. I make my way toward them, careful to stay inconspicuous, and then… showtime.
With a swift, discreet motion, I pour the lemonade onto the ground behind one of them, then let out a dramatic gasp.
“Oh my lanta, honey! Did your water just break?” I shriek loud enough to grab everyone’s attention.
Chaos erupts immediately. Men swarm around her, panic written all over their faces, while the women bark orders and try to calm the situation. It’s perfect. The distraction works like a charm, and I slip away unnoticed, weaving through the crowd toward the open bay doors of the garage. The exit on the far side of the compound is just ahead, and my heart pounds as I spot the Charger sitting in Grease’s shop. The keys are on the workbench, and I snatch them up, sending a silent apology to my son-in-law.
He’ll get over it. Probably.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I grip the wheel tightly, my pulse racing. Freedom is just a few feet away. But before I can crank the engine, a shadow falls over the hood of the car. I look up, and there he is. Ghost. Arms crossed, leaning casually against the side of the open bay door, his smirk infuriatingly smug.
“Uh, hey there, hot stuff!” I stammer, trying to play it cool. “I was just headed down to the Piggly Wiggly to get some… buns. Yeah, buns!”
His eyebrow arches and the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting back laughter. I wonder if this man ever really breaks? Bet it would be a fun rollercoaster ride.
“The Piggly Wiggly in town closed down ten years ago, and the next one ain’t for at least a hundred miles,” he drawls, his voice deep and gravelly, sending a shiver down my spine. “Where ya really goin’, Bunny?”
The nickname is his weapon of choice, and damn if it doesn’t hit its mark every time. I’m caught, and we both know it. Sighing, I drop the pretense, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as I finally admit the truth.
“My girl’s settled,” I say softly, refusing to meet his eyes. “It’s time for me to find some adventures of my own. At least for a little while.”
For a moment, he’s silent. His tone is low and quiet when he finally speaks, but it cuts through me like a knife.
“You weren’t gonna say goodbye?”
Guilt churns in my gut, and I wince. I’ve been wrestling with that decision for days, but I know myself. If I’d tried to say goodbye, I never would’ve been able to leave.
“If I’d done that,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly, “I’d never go.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his expression soften for just a heartbeat before his mask snaps back into place. He’s a fortress, just like me, and for a moment, I wonder what it would take to break down those walls.
“Well, there’s one problem with your plan,” he says, his tone lightening slightly.
“What’s that?” I ask warily, my heart thudding in anticipation.
“How am I supposed to kidnap that fine ass and drag you back home with me if you run off like that?”
His words catch me completely off guard, and a surprised laugh bursts out of me. It’s the kind of laugh that comes from deep in your belly, the kind you can’t hold back even if you try.
“Guess you’ll just have to give chase, Sugar Lips,” I tease, my confidence surging as I throw the car into gear. “I ain’t gonna be an easy catch.”
Without waiting for his response, I slam my foot on the gas, the tires kicking up gravel as I speed out of the garage. My pulse is racing, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I glance in the rearview mirror. Ghost is standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me with an amused smirk that’s equal parts frustrating and thrilling.
As the compound fades into the distance, I can’t help but smile. This isn’t the end. Not by a long shot.
“Ball’s in your basket now, big guy,” I murmur, my fingers tightening on the wheel. And God help me; I can’t wait to see what he does next.