Chapter Sixteen
Sunny
“Wow. This place is even more intense in the daylight.”
“You’re not wrong,” Abby laughs, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her oversized hoodie.
“You can’t see beyond the walls unless you’re looking through the front gate.
There are cameras on every corner, snipers on the roof twenty-four-seven, fifteen houses surrounding the clubhouse, and big burly bikers wandering around like it’s a fashion-forward military base.
But I’ve never felt safer than I have since moving here. ”
Something flickers in Abby’s eyes…quick, but sharp. Like a shadow crossed over her soul and hasn’t quite left.
She’s been through something.
And now I’m wondering… are we close enough for me to ask?
Or would poking at that wound make me the worst kind of friend? The nosy one who only wants the juicy details? Still, my heart aches for whatever that shadow was.
“I have to admit,” I murmur, casting a glance toward the gate, “it does feel pretty safe.”
Safer than it should, maybe.
Safer than I’ve felt in a long time.
I didn’t even realize that I felt unsafe living on my own.
Then again, maybe it’s just the adrenaline of the past twenty-four hours.
“How are you feeling today, Sunny?” Riley asks. “I wasn’t expecting you out of the bed for another couple of days.”
“She’s not supposed to be,” snaps a voice like gravel soaked in gasoline.
I jump.
Jack.
He sounds furious. Dark eyes locked on me like I just danced across a minefield.
“How the fuck did you get down those steps, Sunny?”
I blink at him, shrug, and offer the only answer I’ve got.
“Uhm... I walked? Slowly?”
Okay, but seriously, what else was I supposed to say? I don’t like to lie.
“In my defense,” I begin, hands up like I’m surrendering to the Biker Brigade Court of Law, “I took the meds you left for me and waited a whole hour. But I really had to pee.”
I glance between Riley, Abby, and Jack. Riley and Abby look concerned. Jack looks like he might spontaneously combust.
“So, I got up. Only to realize that I had no idea where the bathroom was. By the time I found it, my stomach was screaming at me for food. Probably because of the pills. So, I very carefully made my way downstairs and found a banana.”
Pause. Deep breath.
“And then I figured going up the stairs would be a lot harder than coming down... so I just came out here to sit on the porch. I wasn’t sure how long you would be gone and I didn’t want to be a bother. It’s really not that big of a deal.”
I tack on a smile for good measure. You know…the please don’t murder me kind.
“Uhm, we’re just going to go check on the baby,” Riley says, rising from her seat with a grace that feels... intentional. Measured. “Is it alright if we bring over lunch?”
I open my mouth to say yes, of course, that sounds great, only to realize she’s not looking at me.
She’s looking at Jack.
Jack.
It should bother me. It really should. The fact that she’s asking his permission to spend lunch with me. Like I need a babysitter. Or a guard dog. Or some kind of medical/biker parole officer.
But weirdly… it doesn’t.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because I’m starting to understand that Jack’s the kind of man people look to when things go sideways.
Maybe because I’ve never had someone like that in my corner before.
Or maybe because it doesn’t feel like control.
It feels like protection.
And that’s… new.
Jack nods, just once, and the tension in Riley and Abby seems to melt like butter on a hot skillet. They both smile, then slip away toward the house to our right, leaving me alone with the big, broody biker who’s currently staring at me like I personally punched him in the soul.
“I’m in trouble, huh?” I say, attempting a half-smile.
Because honestly, what does Jack do when a woman crosses one of his invisible lines? Yell? Go silent? Storm off and slam doors? Toss her in a van and drive her back to her apartment with a bag of frozen peas and a ‘get well soon’ card?
Feed her to the fish?
I brace myself, waiting for the fallout, the lecture, the scary rage…
But instead… he kneels.
He actually kneels. One knee to the porch floor, right in front of me. Gently takes my hand like it’s made of something fragile.
And in a voice so soft I barely recognize it, he says, “I’m sorry, baby.”
Wait. What?
“I’m not used to having to tell someone where I’m going or when I’ll be back. I’ll work on that,” he continues, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I’m not mad at you. I was scared. Scared that something could’ve happened. You could’ve fallen, hurt yourself worse than you already are.”
His eyes meet mine…fierce, pleading.
“Promise me you won’t do that again?”
Oh. My. Stars.
“I promise,” I whisper.
“And I promise,” he says, solemn and so sincere it nearly undoes me, “never to leave you on your own again.”
My breath catches.
“I don’t mind being on my own, Jack,” I say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I just didn’t want to pee in your bed or barf on your floor. My stomach was flipping from the meds, and I was trying to avoid making a mess.”
His jaw flexes, but he stays quiet.
“You’re right, though,” I add. “Getting down those stairs was hard. I won’t do it again. Not until I’m healed.”
And then the unspoken truth settles between us like the dust on his boots.
When I’m healed… I won’t be here.
I’ll be back in my apartment. Alone. Safe enough. But not… safe like this.
“I ordered us a TV,” Jack says suddenly. “Was about to head out and grab it. I’ll let Abby and Riley know you’re ready for lunch. If you need to go back upstairs, have the girls get one of my brothers.”
“You didn’t have to get a TV, Jack,” I sigh, though the warmth creeping into my chest betrays me. “I would’ve survived. But sure…I’ll ask one of the many large, heavily armed men wandering around the compound to escort me next time I need to pee.”
His growl is low and immediate.
“I mean it, baby. I don’t want you taking that risk.” His gaze pins me like a nail to a wall. “And when I said ‘brothers,’ I meant Spike. I don’t want any other male wrapping his arms around you.”
My brows lift.
“Just Spike?” I ask, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. “Because he’s your President?”
Jack’s mouth tilts at the corner, slow and dangerous, one of his scars tugging with the motion. It should look menacing.
It doesn’t.
It looks... hot.
“Because he’s married,” he says simply.
And just like that, my heart gives one ridiculous little flutter.
“Where are your house keys?” he asks. “I’ll head over and pack your things. Text me a list of what you need.”
“I can come with you,” I offer quickly.
“Not happening, Sunny.” He’s already standing.
“Well, I don’t have my keys, remember? All I have are these pajamas that I’m ready to change out of. Plus, you broke down my door. I’ve probably been robbed by now.”
“Hey there, darlin’,” Tank says as he walks up, holding out a set of keys to Jack. “Thought you’d already left, Bones. Was about to come find you. I didn’t have a chance to give these to Sunny yet.”
“Thanks, brother,” Jack says, taking the keys. “Keep an eye on my woman? I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Some kind of silent caveman biker telepathy passes between them, then Jack leans down and presses a kiss to my head.
“Be back soon, baby.”
Then he’s gone.
“Your stuff wasn’t taken,” Tank says after a beat. “I went over yesterday to fix your door. Had to put a new one on.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“No problem.” He smiles kindly. “So... he’s taken to you pretty deeply, huh?”
I glance over at Jack, now talking to Riley and Abby near the clubhouse. My face heats up.
“Has he?” I ask, trying for casual. “Maybe he just really likes rescuing damsels in distress. He always seems to be there when I’m in the middle of something.”
“Nah,” Tank chuckles. “He’s been smitten with you for months now. Ever since he first saw you at Marv’s.”
“Whatever you say, big guy.”
“Hey, Tank,” Abby calls as she and Riley return to the porch with a smiling Asher.
“Hey, Abby,” Tank replies, voice soft as silk.
Abby blushes and coughs to cover it up.
Interesting.
“You girls enjoy your lunch,” he says, backing away. “I’ll be in the clubhouse if you need me.”
Then he turns and strolls toward the largest building in the compound, just as calm and cool as you please.
The porch is quiet now.
Jack is gone, and with him goes the tension that had wrapped around my lungs like barbed wire.
But weirdly, I kinda miss it.
Not the fear. Not the pressure. Just... him.
His presence. The way he watched me like I was the most unpredictable grenade in the compound, and he wasn’t sure whether to smother me or salute me.
I stare at the space where he knelt.
Where his hand held mine like it was something worth holding.
Like I was worth keeping.
I don’t get that often.
I don’t get that ever.
The air smells like motor oil and wildflowers. A weird combo that probably only makes sense inside the walls of an outlaw biker compound. Different…but not bad.
And somehow, this …the porch steps, the chipped paint, the faint rumble of engines in the distance…feels more like home than my tiny apartment ever did.
How messed up is that?
“Hey,” Riley calls, pushing open the screen door from inside Jack’s house. When did she go in?
I look up, and Abby’s already smiling like she knows exactly where my thoughts drifted.
“Lunch is ready,” Riley says. “Hungry?”
“Only always,” I grin.
Abby follows behind her with a pitcher of sweet tea and three glasses. She’s got the sunshine-bestie aesthetic down to an art form. Hoodie sleeves covering her hands, that quiet strength in her walk.
I move a bit slower. The meds I took are still working, but I still get shocked with pain with every sudden movement.
We settle in. Eat. Sip tea. Talk about nonsense for a while…TV shows, hobbies, Abby’s attempt to teach herself French because, and I quote, “French insults sound fancier when you’re mad.”
But eventually, the small talk dies.
And I feel it.
That shift.
That weight.