Chapter 2
Two
Ledger
I walked away from the one damn thing I truly wanted for myself.
I’m halfway down Main Street before I realize I haven’t touched the coffee Kelly gave me.
It sits in the cup holder, untouched and now lukewarm. I brought it with me out of habit—because she handed it to me, because some part of me didn’t want to leave anything she touched behind—but the idea of drinking it turns my stomach.
I pull into the clubhouse lot, kill the engine, and sit there in the silence, helmet still on my head.
The stupidest part? This was supposed to be easy. She was supposed to be easy.
No strings, no feelings, no expectations.
That’s what she said.
That’s what I agreed to.
And somewhere between those late nights in her bed and those quiet mornings where she blinked awake and smiled at me like I hung the damn moon—I forgot to keep my distance.
I forgot to keep it simple.
I forgot that men like me don’t get softness in our lives without paying for it later.
I rip the helmet off and scrub a hand down my face. My throat is tight—annoyingly so. I’m not a man who second-guesses shit. You point me at a problem, I solve it. Quickly, efficiently, and usually with force.
But walking away from Kelly? That isn’t a solved problem.
It’s just a mess I made worse.
The clubhouse door swings open, and Mellow steps out, cigarette dangling from his mouth, a grin already forming. “Well, look at you,” he drawls. “In before nine. Must be serious if it pulled you away from sleep or sex. Which was it?”
I glare at him. “Neither.”
He arches a brow. “Regular bitch is on her period. Got it.”
I shoulder past him. “Shut up, Mellow.”
He follows anyway, because the man has no survival instinct. In fact, I dare to say he wants to dance with the devil and will die with a smile on his face thinking here I come to the flames of hell.
Inside, the usual morning chaos is underway—Stunt arguing with Looney about a part for his bike, Grit polishing his shotgun at the knife like it’s therapy, Saged in deep conversation with Shaft about some business the club has going on.
Just another day.
And yet I feel out of place.
Like I left something behind in that bakery.
No. Not something. Someone.
“Riot,” Gainz calls, not bothering to look up from the papers in front of him. “Office. Now.”
Fantastic.
I head into the back, the door clicking shut behind me. Gainz doesn’t look up at first; he’s scribbling something on a form, jaw tight. When he finally lifts his gaze, one look at my face seems to tell him everything.
“You look like shit,” he states and I want to punch him.
“Good morning to you too.”
He drops the pen and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “So. You and Kelly.”
I stiffen. “We’re done.”
His brows rise slowly, like he’s giving me the chance to walk that back. I don’t.
Gainz exhales through his nose. “Thought you were takin’ that slow and steady.”
“Slow and steady turned into complicated,” I mutter.
“Complicated or you caught feelings?”
I shoot him a sharp look. “Don’t start.”
He tilts his head. “I don’t need to start, brother. You already in the middle of whatever the hell this is. And you’re handling it poorly.”
“Thanks for the insight,” I snap.
“Chux know?” He asks and I shake my head.
“He hasn’t asked, I haven’t shared.”
Gainz doesn’t blink. “Tell me what happened.”
I scrub both hands over my face. “She wanted more.”
“Did she say that?”
I hesitate. “Not in those words.”
“So you guessed,” Gainz deadpans. “And decided for both of you.”
My jaw ticks. I’m not here for therapy. He called me in here for what I assumed was club business or work. Not some bullshit chat about who I’m fucking or not fucking in this situation.
“She kept lookin’ at me like she expected something I can’t give her,” I share frustrated, but also knowing outside of my brother, Gainz is my closest friend.
“She deserves more than a man whose life is strapped to chaos and club business. More than nights that end with me leaving before dawn because I can’t promise what comes next. ”
“She didn’t ask for promises,” he counters. “She asked for honesty.”
Honesty. A foreign language I’ve never been fluent in. I pace the small room. “I did what was best.”
“Bullshit.”
My head snaps up. Gainz stands, bracing his palms on the desk as he leans toward me, eyes sharp. “You did what was easy. What was familiar. You pushed away something good before it had a chance to scare you.”
My fists clench at my sides. “She wanted more.”
“And you didn’t want to want her back.” His voice softens—not gentle, but knowing. “Because you did. I saw it.”
I look away, throat tight. “She said don’t fall in love with her.”
“And did you?” he asks.
Silence.
It stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable.
Gainz sits back down. “That’s what I thought.”
I blow out a harsh breath. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
“For now,” he says. “But don’t kid yourself—this isn’t over. Not for you.”
He’s wrong.
Except he’s not. And that pisses me off more than anything.
Before he can dig deeper, my phone buzzes. I check the screen: a message from the hardware store confirming my panel part is ready for pickup. Needed to change out a piece in the electrical panel of my house and I am thankful for the chance to escape this shit.
“Gonna go grab that part,” I mutter.
Gainz nods. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Define stupid.”
“Anything involving your feelings.”
I flip him off on my way out, and he chuckles.
But the second I step outside, the weight settles back on my shoulders.
I can’t stay here. Can’t sit still. My head’s too loud and too full of Kelly standing in that hallway, chin high, heartbreak in her eyes she tried like hell to hide.
Acquaintances, she agreed.
She didn’t mean it. And I hated that she even tried.
I swing a leg over my bike, rev the engine, and let the vibration drown out everything else. The ride helps until it doesn’t—until I’m parked outside the hardware store, staring down the strip mall at the glass door knowing she isn’t far from me.
I can envision it perfectly. Her curls spilling over her shoulders. Her laugh. Her eyes going soft when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Damn it.
I grab the part, nod at the cashier, and leave quickly. The moment I step back into the sunlight, an uneasy tension crawls up my spine.
A truck idles at the far end of the lot.
Dark tint.
No plates.
Engine humming low.
I narrow my eyes.
It’s probably nothing—just someone waiting on a friend or running late. Freedom Falls isn’t exactly a crime capital.
But the way the driver’s silhouette turns toward me has me on alert. The way the truck pulls out slowly as I head toward my bike makes me take notice. The way the engine revs like it’s marking me has my attention.
I file it away in the back of my mind. A note. A warning.
Something isn’t right.
But instead of investigating, of following my instinct, I do the dumbest thing I could’ve done:
I ride back toward downtown. Toward the bakery. Toward her.
I tell myself I’m not stopping. I’m just passing by. Checking in. Making sure she’s okay after how tense things got.
But when I reach the street, she isn’t in the window. Ally is ringing someone up. The display case is glowing with fresh pastries.
Kelly is nowhere to be seen. She’s probably in the back baking. Ally and Kelly switch off baking so neither of them get burned out.
My chest squeezes again.
I shouldn’t look for her. Shouldn’t want to walk inside. Shouldn’t care this much.
But I do.
I pull over across the street, kill the engine, and sit there staring like an absolute idiot. Minutes pass. Nothing.
Just when I finally force myself to leave, my phone buzzes.
Mellow: You comin’ back? Chux needs you.
I hesitate. My eyes go back to the bakery.
If I go in and talk to her now, I’ll make things worse. I know that. Logic knows that.
But my heart—God help me—wants to push open that door and beg her to take back everything she said. Instead, I type one sentence:
On my way.
I start the engine again, the rumble doing nothing to drown out the chaos in my skull.
The clubhouse is louder now—music thrumming, brothers scattered around with beer or tools or cards. Normal. Predictable. Something I should’ve felt relieved to walk into.
Instead, I feel restless. Strung tight. Unsettled.
Mellow spots me. “Hey, broody fuck. Chux said—”
“I’m here,” I cut him off, heading to the office.
Chux looks up when I step inside. “Took you long enough.”
“Traffic,” I lie.
He nods toward the seat across from him. “We got intel from Nitro about some movement on the outskirts. Russian ties.”
“Again?” I ask sharply.
“Splinter groups,” he says. “Nothing direct yet. But enough to keep eyes open.”
My pulse ticks up.
I think of the dark truck at the hardware store.
“You see anything off today?” Chux asks, reading my expression immediately.
“A truck,” I admit. “Tinted windows. No plates. Driver was watchin’ me.”
“That’s somethin’,” he says. “You follow him?”
“No.”
“And why the hell not?”
I clench my jaw. “Had shit on my mind.”
His stare is cold disappointment. “Get it off your mind. We don’t miss details. Not now.”
I nod, shame burning hot under my skin. Because he’s right. I fucked up.
Kelly’s face flashes again—hurt, confused, trying to hide the way her voice cracked. My chest caves a little.
I don’t want to picture her alone right now.
Don’t want to imagine her thinking I didn’t care.
Don’t want to think about her walking to her car feeling like she wasn’t worth fighting for.
But the image won’t leave.
Chux studies me for a long moment. “Go home. Shower. Clear your head. Then get back here ready to work.”
I nod and stand. But before I reach the door, he adds, “And Riot?”
I pause. “You ended things with her.” He doesn’t say it cruelly. Just matter-of-fact. “But don’t lie to yourself. You care. And you’re gonna have to face that sooner or later.”
I don’t answer. Can’t. Not without something in me cracking open. I head out of the clubhouse, boots heavy on the wooden floorboards. I’m halfway across the lot when my phone buzzes again.
This time, it’s Ally.
Ally: Hey. Have you talked to Kelly since you left?
My gut twists.
Me: Why?
A long pause.
Ally: She left work early. Didn’t look good. Just checking on her.
My chest pulls tight.
Me: I’m sure she’s fine.
Another lie.
Another thing I tell myself so I don’t turn my bike around and show up at her door like the weak, lovesick idiot I swore I’d never be. But even as I hit send, a bad feeling curls low in my stomach.
Something I can’t shake. Something heavy and wrong.
The sun is setting. The shadows are long. I feel like I made a mistake I won’t be able to fix.