Chapter 13
RUSH
I wake up alone, and for a second my chest tightens.
Then I see the note on the pillow beside me.
Had to get to the lab early. Coffee's made. Don't panic and run.
- E
I almost smile. She knows me too well already.
I get up and find my jeans, pull them on and walk into her kitchen.
The coffee pot is full and still warm. There's a mug set out for me next to it.
Small things, but they matter.
I pour coffee and look around her flat, really look at it this time.
Books stacked on the coffee table, lab notes scattered across the desk, a hoodie thrown over the back of the couch.
Her life is here in these small details, and I'm part of it now.
There's a photo on the fridge—Everly with her dad and some other Vipers. She's maybe sixteen and grinning at the camera.
Diesel's got his arm around her shoulders and he's smiling in a way I've never seen.
I know that look. It's the look of a father who would do anything to protect his daughter.
Even from someone like me.
I drink my coffee and think about the past couple of days. Not just the sex—though that was incredible—but the way she looked at me after, the way she curled against me like she belonged there, the way she made coffee before she left because she knew I'd wake up alone and might panic.
She sees me, really sees me, and she's still here.
That means something.
I finish my coffee and clean the mug, leave it in the dish rack exactly where hers is.
Then I grab my cut and head out.
The ride to the clubhouse is cold and fast. The morning traffic in Dublin is light and I make good time.
My mind is quiet for once, no spiraling about what I've done, no second-guessing my choice.
Just the road ahead and the certainty that I made the right call.
The clubhouse is busy when I arrive. It's mid-morning and guys are already working in the garage.
I park my bike next to Tank's and walk inside.
A few heads turn and I feel eyes on me. Word's gotten around that Everly and I are together.
The club always knows everything.
But I don't care. Let them look, let them talk.
Tank's at the bar and he sees me walk in. He grins and shakes his head.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up," he says.
"Fuck off."
"Nah, I'm happy for you, brother. You look different."
"Different how?"
"Less like you're about to bolt at any second. More like you actually slept."
"I slept."
"I bet you did." He hands me a beer even though it's barely ten. "You know Diesel's not going to let this go quietly, right?"
"I know."
"You prepared for that?"
"As prepared as I can be."
"He's going to test you, probably try to scare you off. Might even fly out here to do it in person."
The thought makes my jaw tighten but I don't back down. "Let him try."
Tank studies me for a second. "You mean that."
"Yeah, I mean it."
"Good, because she deserves someone who's willing to stand. Not someone who's going to fold the second things get hard."
"I'm not folding."
We drink in silence for a while, then Tank says, "You good though? Really good?"
"Yeah, I'm good."
"No freaking out? No spiraling about all the ways this could go wrong?"
"I'm terrified but I'm staying anyway."
"That's growth, brother. That's real fucking growth."
I take a drink. "Feels different than I expected."
"How so?"
"I thought choosing someone would feel like a trap, like I was giving up control. But it doesn't feel like that."
"What does it feel like?"
"Like I finally stopped running from something real."
Tank claps me on the shoulder. "Good, then keep doing that."
Pyro walks over and his expression is unreadable. "Rush, got a minute?"
"Yeah."
We walk into the chapel and he closes the door, leans against the table.
The room smells like leather and smoke and old wood.
"Diesel called me this morning," he says.
My jaw tightens. "And?"
"And he wanted to know if you're serious about his daughter or if this is just some passing thing."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him you're a good man and if you say you're serious then you're serious. That you've proven yourself in this club for two years."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet. He's not happy. He thinks you're too dangerous for her, too fucked up from your past."
The words sting but I don't let it show. "What do you think?"
"I think you've earned your place here. I think you're solid and reliable. But, Rush, Diesel's her father and he's protective as hell. You need to be prepared for him to push back hard."
"I am."
"You sure? Because he's going to come at you and it's not going to be pretty. He might even fly out here."
"I'm sure."
Pyro nods slowly. "Then handle it. Show him you're worth her trust. Don't make me regret vouching for you."
"I won't."
We leave the chapel and I go back to the bar. My mind is already on Diesel and what's coming.
He's going to test me, probably try to intimidate me, maybe even threaten me.
But I'm not backing down. Not this time.
I'm working on my bike in the garage when Ciara shows up.
"Hey stranger," she says with a smile.
"Hey."
"Haven't seen much of you lately. You've been MIA."
"Just busy."
"With Everly?"
"Yeah."
She leans against the workbench, her posture casual and friendly. "That's great. I'm really happy for you guys. She seems really sweet."
"She is."
"You two getting serious?"
"Yeah."
"Wow, I didn't think I'd see the day Rush settled down." She's teasing but it's gentle. "I'm glad you finally found someone who can handle you. You're not an easy man to be with."
The comment is friendly, supportive even, but there's something underneath I can't quite place.
"She handles me fine," I say.
"I'm sure she does. Just...you know, if you ever need to escape the drama or just talk to someone who gets it, you know where to find me. Things can get intense with the VP's daughter—all that club politics."
"I appreciate that."
"Of course. That's what friends are for." She touches my arm briefly. "We should still grab coffee sometime though. I miss talking to you. It's been too long."
I think about it. Ciara's been a good friend since I moved here. She doesn't know about my past, doesn't ask questions. Just lets me be.
There's something easy about that, something uncomplicated.
"Yeah, we should catch up," I say.
"Great. How about this week? Wednesday?"
"Maybe. I'll let you know."
"Perfect." She squeezes my arm. "I'm really happy for you, Rush. You deserve good things."
"Thanks."
She walks away and I go back to work.
Ciara's solid, always has been. Always there when I need someone to talk to who doesn't know the full story.
I'm lucky to have her as a friend, someone who doesn't treat me like I'm broken or damaged. Someone who just sees me as Rush, not as the kid who shot someone.
I'm tightening a bolt when I hear a door slam somewhere in the clubhouse.
The sound echoes through the garage, and suddenly I'm not here anymore.
I'm back in juvie, fourteen years old, and someone's being dragged down the hallway.
He's screaming and fighting, and the guards are rough, slamming him against the wall.
The sound of his body hitting concrete makes my stomach turn, the wet crack of bone on cement.
I'm pressed against my cell door watching. My hands are gripping the bars so tight they hurt.
The kid keeps screaming and one of the guards hits him, hard.
Blood splatters on the floor.
"Rush."
The voice cuts through and I'm back. I'm in the garage and Tank's standing in front of me.
My hands are shaking and the wrench is on the ground.
"You good?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"You sure? You looked gone for a second."
I take a breath and let it out slow, focus on the present.
The smell of oil and metal, the sound of bikes in the distance, Tank's concerned face in front of me.
"Just a memory," I say.
"Juvie?"
"Yeah."
He doesn't push, just nods. "You need a minute?"
"No, I'm good."
And I am. The memory came and went. I didn't get stuck in it.
I pick up the wrench and get back to work.
Tank watches me for a second longer, then goes back to his own bike.
That's progress. The flashback happened but I grounded myself quickly.
I didn't spiral, didn't let it take over.
I go back to work and focus on the feel of the wrench in my hand, the resistance of the bolt, the way the metal fits together.
Grounding myself in the present instead of the past.
The anger is there, humming under my skin, but I don't fight it. I just let it be.
Acknowledge it and let it pass.
That's what Esme said. Feeling things doesn't mean losing control.
It just means being human.
Everly shows up at the clubhouse around six. She walks in and her eyes find me immediately.
I'm at the bar with Tank and Bozo, but I stand up when I see her.
She's wearing jeans and a leather jacket. Her hair is down and she looks tired but beautiful.
She walks over and I pull her close, kiss her quickly and possessively.
A few guys whistle and I flip them off without looking.
"Miss me?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"Good. I missed you too."
I lead her to the bar, and there's a drunk prospect sitting where I want her.
"Move," I say.
He looks up, sees my expression, and immediately gets up.
I guide Everly to the seat, position it so her back is to the wall and I'm between her and the room.
She raises an eyebrow. "Territorial much?"
"Just being smart."
"About what?"
"About keeping you where I can see anyone who approaches."
She smiles. "That's very alpha of you."
"Deal with it."
She laughs and the sound makes my chest warm.
We sit down and she fits against my side like she belongs there. My hand goes to her hip automatically.
This is a claim, public and clear, and I want everyone to see it.
Tank grins. "You two are disgustingly cute."
"Fuck off," I say without heat.
"Nah, I like it. Rush finally pulled his head out of his ass."
Everly laughs. "It was touch and go for a while."
"I was there. I watched the whole painful process. Man was circling you like a shark for weeks."
"He was lurking," Everly says.
"I wasn't lurking."