Chapter Forty
Simon
The diner smelled like grease and coffee and celebration.
The moment I pushed through the door, the noise hit me—laughter, conversation, and the clatter of dishes and silverware.
The place was packed wall-to-wall with people.
Silver Shadows’ members occupied most of the booths along the windows, their leather cuts stark against the red vinyl.
My parents sat at a corner table with Grace, who was glowing despite her exhaustion.
King stood near the counter talking to Cash and Jingles, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, always watching.
People from town filled the remaining spaces. Beatrice Allen held court at a center table, her voice carrying over the din as she recounted her testimony with theatrical flair. A few people I didn’t know well lingered at the counter, their expressions curious, cautious.
Everyone was celebrating my freedom.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Tony’s presence at my back was a physical weight, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him but not touching. Never touching. Not here. Not where people could see.
My chest tightened.
“Simon!” Mom waved from the corner, her smile bright but her eyes concerned. She’d always been able to read me too well.
I forced a smile and started toward her, weaving through the crowd. Hands reached out to pat my shoulder, voices offering congratulations I barely heard over the roar in my head.
Free.
I’m free.
But nothing’s changed.
“Simon, over here!” Goliath’s voice boomed from a booth near the counter. His massive frame took up most of one side, Haizley tucked in beside him. Mimic sat across from him, and Indie was perched on the edge of the seat, her dark eyes tracking my movement.
I changed direction, heading toward them instead. Tony followed, silent and tense.
“Goliath,” I said, standing at the end of the table. “You started without me.”
Goliath only grunted. Haizley smiled and elbowed him until he stood. She slipped out of the booth and gave me a hug. “How’s it feel?”
“Surreal,” I admitted. “Like I’m going to wake up and still be wearing that ankle monitor.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Tony had stopped a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his jaw tight. He was watching me with that same unreadable expression he’d worn on the journey here.
Say something, I wanted to scream at him. Claim me. Sit down beside me. Touch me.
But he didn’t.
He just stood there, a wall of tension and silence.
“Matlock, you want a burger?” Goliath called.
“No,” Tony said curtly. “I’m good.”
The conversation around us continued, but I felt the shift in the way people’s eyes flickered between Tony and me, curious, speculating. Goliath narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharpening.
He knew.
They all knew.
And Tony was still pretending.
“Simon Nelson,” a voice cut through the noise, sharp and nasal. “Didn’t think I’d see you back in here so soon.”
I turned to see Marjorie Kemp standing near our booth, her arms crossed over her chest, her mouth pursed in disapproval. She was a regular at the diner, a woman in her sixties who’d never had a kind word for anyone and seemed to take particular pleasure in other people’s misery.
“Marjorie,” I said evenly. “Good to see you too.”
“Is it?” She sniffed. “I heard what happened in that courtroom. All that... business about your sister and that poor boy.”
“That poor boy was an abuser,” I said, my voice hardening. “And my sister defended herself.”
“So you say.” Marjorie’s eyes narrowed. “But it seems awfully convenient, doesn’t it? You taking the fall, then her swooping in with some recording no one knew about. Makes a person wonder what else you people are hiding.”
You people.
The words landed like a slap.
“Marjorie—” Indie started, her voice dangerous.
But Marjorie wasn’t done. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a stage whisper that half the diner could still hear.
“And I have to say, Simon, I’m surprised the club is standing by you.
I mean, with your... lifestyle and all. Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing bikers would approve of, does it? ”
The booth went silent.
My face burned. My hands clenched into fists at my side.
Lifestyle.
Like being gay was a fucking hobby.
“Marjorie,” Goliath said, his voice low and warning. “You need to walk away.”
“I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” she said, straightening. “It’s one thing to defend family, but it’s another to—”
Goliath moved faster than I would have thought possible.
One second, he was standing on the other side of Haizley; the next, he was right in front of me, his massive frame blocking Marjorie from view. He reached down, grabbed my face with both hands, and kissed me.
Hard.
On the mouth.
In front of everyone.
My brain short-circuited.
What the fuck—
Goliath’s lips were firm, insistent, and completely arousing.
But this wasn’t just a statement. This was a claim.
His mouth opened against mine, and his tongue slipped past my lips with deliberate intensity, tasting me, owning the moment.
His hands tightened on my face, angling my head to deepen the kiss, and I felt the raw power of him, all that controlled strength and size pressing down on me.
I’d always been attracted to him. How could I not be?
The way his massive frame moved with surprising grace.
The way his hands could be gentle with Haizley and devastating to anyone who hurt someone who meant something to him.
The way he commanded a room just by existing in it.
There was something primal about him, something that made my body respond on an instinctual level.
But it wasn’t him I loved.
Goliath’s tongue stroked against mine, slow and deliberate, and heat flooded through me.
My hands came up to grip his cut, needing something to anchor myself as the kiss deepened further.
He made a low sound of approval, his mouth moving against mine with a possessiveness that was purely performative.
He was putting on a show for the diner, for Marjorie, for everyone watching.
Yet my body didn’t seem to care about the distinction.
When he finally pulled back, I was flushed and dazed, my lips swollen and tingling, my breathing ragged. His hands lingered on my face for a moment longer, his blue eyes intense as they held mine.
“Does that clear things up?” Goliath said loudly, his voice carrying through the now silent diner, his hands still framing my face. “You got a problem with who he is, Marjorie, then you got a problem with all of us.”
My heart was pounding. My lips tingled. My mind was racing to catch up with what had just happened.
Goliath wasn’t into me. He had an old lady. This wasn’t—
Oh.
Oh, he did this on purpose.
But God, for a moment there, I’d felt something. Something that made me question everything I thought I knew about my own desires. Something that made me forget, just for a second, that my heart belonged to someone else.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but I never got the chance.
Because Tony exploded.
“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HIM!”
The roar tore through the diner like a detonation, raw, feral, unhinged. I barely had time to process the sound before Tony’s hand clamped around my arm with bruising force and shoved me behind him so violently, I nearly fell.
I stared in horror as Tony’s fist connected with Goliath’s face.
The impact was savage, not a controlled punch but a desperate, violent explosion of rage. Goliath’s head snapped back with a sickening crack, blood spraying from his split lip and nose. He staggered backward, nearly falling, his hand coming up to his face.
The diner erupted.
Chairs scraped. Voices shouted. Someone screamed.
But I couldn’t hear any of it over the sound of Tony’s ragged breathing. His chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. His hands clenched tight by his side, his shoulders tense, his body coiled, ready to fight, waiting for Goliath to retaliate.
“Tony—” I whispered, my voice shaking.
“Mine,” Tony snarled, and the word came out broken and raw and furious. “He’s fucking mine. Do you hear me? MINE.”
My knees nearly buckled.
Oh God.
Oh God, he just—
Tony spun and grabbed me by the waist, his grip bruising, possessive as he pulled me against him. He pinned me with a glare, searching my face for something. His eyes, hard and angry.
God, his eyes.
They were wild. Blazing with jealousy and rage and pain. Years of it, decades of it, all of it pouring out in this single moment. His pupils were blown wide, his face flushed, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.
“You don’t fucking touch him,” Tony growled, his gaze locked on Goliath even as he held me against him like a lifeline. His voice cracked on the words, raw and broken. “No one fucking touches him. No one. He’s mine.”
The possessive declaration sent heat flooding through me, arousal and shock and disbelief and terror tangling together until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel the way Tony was shaking against me, the way his fingers dug into my skin like he was trying to brand me, claim me, own me in front of everyone.
“Six fucking years,” Tony bit out, and his voice was shaking now, trembling with fury and desperation. “Six fucking years. Six years of watching other men look at him, touch him, want him, and I couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it because I was too much of a fucking coward.”
His grip on my jaw tightened, and I felt his breath hot against my ear as he leaned in, his words coming out in a broken rasp.
“But I’m done,” he said, and the words sounded like a vow and a threat and a prayer all at once. “I’m fucking done hiding. He’s mine. He’s always been mine. And if anyone tries to fucking touch him again, I will fucking end them.”
Goliath straightened slowly, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand. Then he smiled.
It was a wide, knowing grin that made his split lip bleed harder.
“It’s about fucking time,” Goliath said.
Tony froze.
I felt the moment realization hit him. The way his body went rigid, the way his breathing stuttered. He stared at Goliath, his expression shifting from rage to confusion to dawning comprehension.
“You—” Tony’s voice was hoarse. “You did that on purpose.”
“Damn right I did,” Goliath said. “You were never gonna do it on your own, brother. Figured you needed a push.”
“A push?” Tony’s voice rose. “A push? You fucking kissed him!”
“And you punched me in the face and claimed him in front of the whole damn town,” Goliath shot back. “So I’d say it worked.”
Tony turned to Haizley. “Did you know he was going to do that?”
She grinned back at him. “Who do you think told him to do it?”
Tony’s grip on me loosened slightly, his hand sliding up my back. I could feel him trembling, whether from rage or fear, or relief, I couldn’t tell.
I turned in his arms, my hands coming up to rest on his chest. His heart was racing beneath my palms, his eyes still wild as they finally met mine.
“Tony,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything. Just stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time.