CHAPTER SIX #2
I flinch when her arms wrap around my waist.
“Don’t touch me,” I growl.
A soft laugh brushes my ear. “How am I supposed to stay on this thing?”
I close my eyes for half a second, trying to keep control of my anger.
My foot kicks the stand up and the engine roars to life, too loud, too aggressive, announcing us to everyone within earshot.
I glance back at the pub one last time, praying no one who could tell Eden is watching.
I gun the throttle and pull away hard, the bike surging forward like it’s desperate to escape too. Wind slams into my chest, ripping the breath from my lungs, but it doesn’t help. My head is still full. Loud. Chaotic.
Anika leans in closer as we pick up speed.
“Careful,” she says near my ear. “The vibrations are making a girl . . . excited.”
I grit my teeth. “Shut the fuck up.”
“And I don’t suppose there are many men in this place who could get me off. I’m not easily pleased.” She holds tighter, pressing herself against me.
“I swear to God,” I warn, taking a turn sharper than necessary
Her laughter fills my ears, and I clench my jaw in irritation. I hate this. I hate that it feels like betrayal. But most of all, I hate how easily this life keeps dragging me back.
I spot the sign for the B and B and turn into the small carpark. Anika makes a show of getting off the bike, keeping her hand rested on my shoulder as she swings her leg over, and pressing her breasts against my upper arm. I shake my head, keeping my eyes fixed ahead on the small building.
“This is cute,” she comments, following my gaze.
“You’re not staying,” I snap. “I’ll get you a room at some place near the docks.”
“I tried,” she says simply before pressing the helmet to my chest. “It was full. Why do you think I ended up here?”
I roll my eyes as I get off the bike. “You can’t stay in this town. Eden will find out.”
“If you keep pissing your pants like a little boy, I might be tempted to tell her myself,” she says through gritted teeth before heading for the entrance.
I follow quickly, still glancing around nervously as we go inside.
An elderly gentleman mans the desk. He looks up over his glasses, his pen midway to his mouth like he was about to chew on the tip. “Good morning.”
“Morning. We need a double room for two nights,” says Anika.
“Separately,” I cut in. “Two separate rooms.”
“I only have one room with two single beds,” he says, shrugging.
“Great, we’ll take it,” Anika answers, whipping out her purse. He slides a form over for her to fill out.
“I’ll take it,” I snap. “We’ll find you somewhere else.”
The man scoffs. “You’ll be lucky. Everywhere is booked up for the annual farmers show.” He reaches for a room key. “The local hotels and B and Bs are full.”
“Great,” I mutter as Anika taps her card against the payment machine.
“Aww, don’t look so glum, Kade. Maybe we could have some fun,” she says with a wink.
EDEN
Mrs. Wainwright sets the stack of bank notes on the desk, tapping them into a neat pile before opening the envelope. The sound feels far too loud in the stillness of the shop.
“You looked as white as a sheet,” she continues, not looking up, “and I just knew it would be your ex.”
I shift in the chair, my shoulders tightening. Despite me hardly giving any details about my past or Kade, she’s somehow managed to piece together my entire life, and she hasn’t stopped probing all afternoon.
“There’s no big story,” I repeat, forcing calm into my voice. “No gossip. We just went our separate ways. Things weren’t working.”
She glances up then, eyes sharp behind her glasses. “So you keep saying. But I saw that look in his eyes.” She pauses deliberately. “He was jealous.”
My stomach twists. I press my lips together, fighting the urge to defend him.
“Kade’s . . . complicated,” I say finally. “But we had a talk, and he’s only sticking around for a day or so.”
“Really?” She slips the money into the envelope and seals it. “He checked in at the B and B for two nights.”
I stiffen at her words. Two nights? There’s not that much to discuss between us.
“How do you know?” I ask, not bothering to keep the exasperation from my voice as I straighten in my seat.
She smiles faintly. “It’s a small place, Eden. Everyone’s talking about the hot biker in town.”
Heat rushes to my face. “It’s farm show weekend,” I argue, my fingers curling into the strap of my bag. “There are plenty of new faces around.”
She hums, clearly unconvinced, and slides the envelope towards me. “Maybe, but not many who look like him.”
I stare at the envelope, my reflection faint in the polished surface of the desk. “How do you convince someone you’re over them, even if you’re not?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
She places a hand over mine. “You definitely don’t lie and tell them you’re dating Pete.”
“It slipped out,” I mutter. “And it was Martha who said Pete. I was happy to let him think I was seeing a nameless, faceless stranger.”
“Either way, you have to be honest.”
I know she’s right. Dishonesty was what started this entire thing. But now, I have two more days of being near him, breathing the same air, and I don’t think my resolve can take that if he thinks I’m single.
The bell above the shop door chimes, and for reasons I can’t explain, my heart jumps straight into my throat.
I look up from the counter. Kade stands there holding a bunch of daisies. Not shop-bought. Not wrapped. Hand-picked, stems uneven, a bit of dirt still clinging to the ends like he pulled them straight from a verge without thinking twice.
For a second, I can’t breathe.
He shifts his weight, suddenly unsure of himself, and clears his throat. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I manage, my voice quieter than I mean it to be.
He lifts the flowers slightly, almost awkwardly. “These are for you.”
I step around the counter before I can talk myself out of it and take them from him. My fingers brush his, just barely, and it sends a stupid, familiar spark straight up my arm.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” he replies quickly.
There’s a pause. An awkward one. The kind heavy with everything we don’t know how to say anymore.
“I was wondering,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flicking everywhere but my face, “if you’d maybe have dinner with me tonight?”
My chest tightens. I glance back towards the office, where I know Mrs. Wainwright is probably pretending not to listen.
“Erm . . . it’s just . . . well, there’s Pete to consider,” I say, keeping my voice low.
He nods immediately, no hesitation. “Of course. Bring him along.”
I frown. “Bring him?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs like this was always the plan. “He’s gonna be sticking around, right?”
“I mean . . .” I hesitate. “Maybe. It’s a little early to say.”
“If he’s taking on a pregnant woman,” he says, calm and certain, “he’s sticking around, so bring him.” His jaw tightens. “We can talk about how it’s all gonna work.”
I arch a brow. “Right. I guess I can ask him.”
His sudden eagerness twists something deep in my chest. This isn’t the Kade I know. He should be bristling, possessive, barely holding himself together.
Instead, he’s accommodating, reasonable.
And that unsettles me.
I take a calming breath as I run the brush through my hair.
“I don’t know why you’re even bothering,” mutters Martha.
I place the brush down and stare at her reflection in the mirror. “Why are you so against him all of a sudden?”
She shrugs. “Why aren’t you?”
“Because we’re having a baby together.”
“So, that means you have to forgive him?”
I turn to face her, and she slumps farther into the pillows on my bed. “I’m not forgiving him.”
“It sure seems like it.”
“You think I wanted him to show up?” I ask.
“I was quite happy thinking he’d given up on me.
On us. That we were just gonna be a family of three.
And to be honest, I wasn’t sad about it.
I don’t know how I feel about Kade anymore, but I sure as shit know I don’t forgive him.
And there are things to discuss, like how we’re gonna parent a child when we live miles apart.
Or if I even trust him to keep our child safe .
. .” I trail off, the words stinging. Tears fill my eyes at the thought of handing over my child to the club each weekend.
“Sorry,” Martha mutters. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I think I preferred it when he didn’t show interest,” I admit. “Everything seemed less complicated.”
“You don’t have to agree to anything you’re not comfortable with. Contact can be here, in your home rather than at the club.”
“That can’t be forever though. He’s got just as much right.” I groan. “And I’ll have to get a fake breakup with Pete out the way, and soon. I hate lying.”
She grins. “It’s a small lie to keep him at a distance you feel comfortable with.”
I stand and straighten my dress. “I don’t think Kade will see it like that.”
The restaurant smells like garlic and warm bread and something slow-cooked. It’s the kind of place meant for couples who touch knees under the table and steal bites from each other’s plates.
Instead, I stand between two men, pretending not to notice the space where my life split in half.
Kade pulls my chair out before I can do it myself. An old habit. I freeze for half a second then sit anyway, murmuring a thank you I’m not sure he deserves. Pete waits until I’m settled before taking the seat opposite us, polite to the point of painful.
“This place is nice,” Kade says, glancing around.
“Local favourite,” Pete replies easily.
I study the menu even though I already know what I want. It gives my hands something to do and gives my eyes somewhere safe to land.
“So,” Pete says, smiling at me, “Mrs. Wainwright said the shop was busy today.”
“It was.” I nod. “Farm show weekend.”
Kade’s gaze flicks to my stomach, subtle but unmistakable. I instinctively cover it with my napkin.
“You feeling okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
Pete jumps in smoothly. “She’s been good. Tired sometimes, but,” He smiles at me, “you’re handling it better than you think.”
My chest tightens. I hadn’t asked him to say that, but I’m grateful anyway.
Kade nods slowly, his jaw clenched tight. “That’s good.”
The waiter comes, mercifully breaking the tension. Drinks and food are ordered, and conversation stumbles forward in awkward steps. Pete talks about work, about the village, about how everyone knows everyone’s business.
Kade listens more than he speaks, eyes flicking between us, like he’s assessing every word.
“You staying long?” Pete asks him, casually.
“I booked a couple nights,” he says with a shrug.
“And after that?” Pete presses, still polite, still calm.
Kade’s eyes finally meet mine. “That depends.”
On me. On us.
The food arrives, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The quicker we eat, the quicker this will be over.
I take a bite of pasta I can barely taste. My stomach rolls, but I force myself to chew, swallow, be normal.
Pete notices. He was around when I was still getting sickness before. “You want to switch plates?” he offers quietly.
“I’m okay,” I lie.
Kade’s fingers curl around his fork. “You need to eat, Eden.”
The concern in his voice is real, but it irritates me.
“I am eating,” I snap before I can stop myself. The table goes silent, and I immediately soften. “Sorry. Hormones.”
Pete smiles gently, almost apologetically, towards Kade. “They’re brutal.”
Kade exhales, rubbing a hand over his beard, his eyes full of regret.