Chapter 26 Zoey
ZOEY
“Get up.”
I blink awake to the sound of his voice, sleep still clinging to me as I squint toward the doorway. Whiz stands there, already dressed, already moving, like he’s been up for hours.
“What?” I mumble.
“Shower. Get dressed.” He tosses something onto the edge of the bed. “Clothes. Not yours.”
I push up onto my elbows, staring at the neatly folded outfit. “Where did these come from?”
“Borrowed,” he says simply. “Old lady’s closet.”
That wakes me up a little more. “You’re just… taking their clothes now?”
“They said I could,” he mutters, already turning away. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
“You’re very bossy in the morning,” I call after him.
“I’ve always been bossy.”
He disappears, leaving no room to argue, so I do the only thing I can.
I get up.
The shower is quick, efficient, my mind running in too many directions as I go through the motions. Last night flickers in fragments… emotion, need, how quickly everything shifted between us.
What the hell are we doing?
I don’t have an answer by the time I dress, slipping into the borrowed clothes that somehow fit well enough to be comfortable. When I step out, he’s waiting, keys already in hand.
“Let’s go.”
“No explanation?”
“Not yet.”
That’s not suspicious at all.
Still, I follow him outside to his Harley. He helps me onto the seat before sitting in front of me and tugging my arms around his waist.
“Hold on,” he says as he starts the engine, and in seconds, we’re riding off the property.
The farther we get from the clubhouse, the quieter everything becomes. Trees blur past, open stretches of road cutting through the landscape, the air cooler and cleaner than the city’s edge. I don’t ask where we’re going, opting instead to simply enjoy the ride so to speak.
When we finally slow, I realize we’re near the water.
Puget Sound stretches out in front of us, gray-blue and endless. Whiz parks without saying anything, and then helps me off the bike.
“This is…” I start, then trail off.
“Yeah,” he says.
We walk down toward the beach, boots sinking slightly into damp sand as we find a spot away from everything else. The air carries that salty bite, and the wind tugs at my hair.
I fucking love it.
We find a secluded spot and sit, neither of us speaking for a few minutes as we listen to the water.
“I come here when I need to think,” he says finally.
I glance at him. “Seems like a good place for that.”
He nods, picking at something in the sand absently. “It used to clear my head.”
“Used to?”
He exhales slowly. “Now it just… reminds me.”
“Undertaker?” I ask gently.
His jaw tightens slightly, but he nods. “Everything runs through my head in loops. The route, the timing… what I should’ve done differently.”
“It wasn’t—”
“It was my call,” he says firmly. “That’s the part I can’t shake.”
Silence settles again, heavier this time.
“I don’t think I get to be… anything else,” he continues after a moment. “Not after that.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Happy,” he says. “Normal. Whatever the hell that looks like.”
“You’re allowed to grieve,” I say.
“That’s not what this is.”
“No,” I agree softly. “It’s guilt.”
He doesn’t argue.
“You didn’t see my childhood,” I continue, pulling my knees up slightly, wrapping my arms around them. “I was the weird kid. The one who didn’t cry when animals died. The one who… understood it, embraced it.”
He glances at me, something curious in his expression.
“I used to bring dead animals home,” I say. “Birds, rabbits, cats… anything I found. I’d bury them. Properly. Say something over them, even when I didn’t know what I was supposed to say.”
A faint huff of disbelief leaves him. “You’re serious.”
“Completely,” I reply. “Kids called me ‘Dead Zone Zoey’.”
“That’s fucked up,” he mutters.
I shrug. “It stuck.”
“And your mom?”
I look out at the water. “Busy. With… everything else. Men mostly. I learned early not to expect much from her.”
“You learned how to take care of things on your own,” he clarifies.
“Yeah.” I glance back at him. “And now I take care of people who can’t be taken care of anymore.” I stare out at the water for a few minutes before continuing. “You know, you don’t get to decide that you don’t deserve happiness.”
He snorts lightly. “You've been telling me that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Doesn’t feel that way.”
“It won’t,” I admit. “Not right now.”
He studies me for a second longer, something steady settling in his eyes.
“I like you,” he says suddenly, catching me off guard.
“I like you too,” I admit.
He exhales slowly. “We haven’t known each other that long.”
“No,” I agree. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.” I take a deep breath. “We figure it out or we don’t. We don’t have to decide everything right now.”
He nods, slow and thoughtful.
“Alright.”
The ride back is more enjoyable, easier now that we’ve acknowledged that there’s something between us. Nothing is resolved, but that doesn’t seem to matter at the moment.
I rest my head against his back, rest my hands more comfortably around him as I let myself relax into our newfound… whatever we are.
We’re only miles away from the clubhouse, and I’ve got a perpetual grin on my face. That is until Whiz leans into a curve and a loud familiar sound splits the air.
Gunfire.
The first shot cracks so suddenly that it barely registers. Whiz jerks the bike, and I tighten my arms around him.
“Shit—hold on!”
More shots follow, and they’re louder, closer.
He swerves, brakes hard, and the tires skid slightly as he pulls us to a stop. Everything happens fast after that… too fast.
“Get down!” he barks, already off the bike, gun in hand as he moves to cover.
I try to, I really do, but the world tilts again, chaos crashing in before I can catch up to it. I drop low, heart slamming against my ribs as more shots echo around us.
Whiz fires back like this is a normal occurrence.
Isn’t it?
Pain slices through me a split-second after another shot is fired. It’s sudden and burning, stealing the air from my lungs as I fall, the ground meeting me faster than I anticipate.
My hands scramble for something, anything, but nothing makes sense anymore, all sound fading in and out like I’m underwater.
There’s more gunshots, then a brief silence before footsteps hit the ground near me, fast and urgent.
“Zoey?” Hands roam over my body. “What the—shit—Zoey!”
Panic bleeds into Whiz’s every movement as the world finally narrows enough for me to see him clearly.
There’s fear etched in his expression. I try to open my mouth and say something to erase the fear, but nothing comes out. I scream for help only to realize that I’m not actually saying a damn thing.
I try again, try to lift my arms to pull Whiz closer, but before I can make contact, everything goes dark.