Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
DEENA
M y heart nearly stops at the sound of a motorcycle rumbling up the driveway.The look on Rosco's face tells me this isn't a casual visit.
"Who is it?" I ask, already rising from my chair.
"Tank." His voice is tight as he moves toward the door.Bear follows, hackles raised."Stay inside."
But something in his tone makes me do the exact opposite.I follow him onto the porch just as headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating a massive figure dismounting a Harley.
The man who approaches doesn't match the clean-cut biker from Tank and Debbie's wedding announcement that Aunt Millie had shown me months ago.This Tank has a wild beard, bloodshot eyes, and a barely contained fury radiating from every step.His MC cut is dusty, as if he's been riding for hours.
"Where the hell have you been?" Tank demands, not even acknowledging my presence."I've been texting for days."
"Phone reception's been shit with the storms," Rosco responds, his posture shifting subtly.Gone is the guarded woodworker I've come to know again.In his place stands someone harder, more dangerous."What's wrong?"
"Kings are making moves on Saints territory again.Three of our prospects got jumped last night at the county line." Tank's eyes finally flick to me, narrowing slightly."Didn't know you had company."
"Deena Wilson," Rosco says, not introducing me further."What do the Kings want?"
"Territory, same as always. But they've got new weapons, new bikes.Someone's bankrolling them." Tank steps closer, lowering his voice."We need you, brother. Just for a few days.Show of strength while we negotiate terms."
The request hangs in the air, heavy with implication.My stomach knots as I watch Rosco's expression shift from surprise to consideration.
"I left the club," he says finally."Made that clear three years ago."
"You're still family." Tank's tone softens slightly."I wouldn't ask if it wasn't serious.Ranch needs your tactical skills, not your trigger finger."
I can't stay silent any longer."You can't seriously be considering this."
Both men turn to me, as if suddenly remembering I exist.Rosco's eyes harden.
"This doesn't concern you, Deena."
"Doesn't concern me?" I step forward, anger rising."You're talking about going back to a motorcycle club.The same MC that was more important to you than anything else twelve years ago."
Tank's eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, this is that Deena?The one who--"
"Yeah," Rosco cuts him off. "That one."
The dismissal stings like a slap."That one? Is that all I am to you?Some footnote in your history?"
"Not the time, Dee." Rosco turns back to Tank."When do you need me?"
"Now. Tonight." Tank glances between us, clearly sensing the tension."But I can give you an hour to sort out... whatever this is."
"There's nothing to sort out." I cross my arms, trying to contain the hurt and fear churning inside me."Rosco's free to go play outlaw biker whenever he wants.It's what he does best, isn't it?Choose the club over everything else?"
Rosco's jaw tightens. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I? Isn't this exactly what happened before?The club called, and you chose them.Only difference is this time, I'm not the one leaving."
Tank clears his throatawkwardly."I'll wait by the bike. Ten minutes, Rosco." He retreats, giving us the illusion ofprivacy.
"This isn't about choosing the club," Rosco says once Tank is out ofearshot."This is about keeping a promise to brothers who've had myback.It's a few days, not a lifestylechange."
"And what about your promise to leave that lifebehind?What happened to 'I walked away for good'?" I step closer, voicedropping."What happened to exploring what could be betweenus?"
"That was hours ago, and you've already got me making promises?" He runs a hand through his hair infrustration."Life doesn't work like that,Deena.Sometimes shit happens, and you have to deal withit."
"By going back to the exact thing that tore us apartbefore?"
"The club didn't tear us apart." His voice cuts likesteel."You did. You chose your career, your ambitions, your newlife.Now I'm choosing to help people who depend onme."
The parallel isn't lost on me, and it lands like a physicalblow."So this is payback? Showing me how itfeels?"
"Not everything is about you." His expression softensfractionally."Look, I'll be back in a fewdays.The roads should be clear by then, and you can decide what you want todo.Stay, rebuild, go back toAtlanta.Yourchoice."
"Just like that?" My voice cracks despite my bestefforts."You'll leave me here alone while you go play enforcer with your bikerbuddies?"
Something dark flashes across hisface."I was never the club'senforcer.That was Tank." The quiet correction somehow feels more significant than itshould."And you won't be alone. Bear stays withyou."
"Great. A dog for protection while you ride off into danger." I shake my head, tearsthreatening."What happens if you don't comeback?"
"I always come back." He reaches out, his hand hovering near my cheek before droppingaway."That's the difference betweenus."
The casual cruelty of the statement leaves mespeechless.I step back, wrapping my arms around myself as if that might hold together the pieces he's justshattered.
"Fine. Go." I turn toward thedoor."Don't worry about me. I've managed without you for twelveyears.A few more days won'tmatter."
"Deena--"
"No." I cut him off, refusing to look back. "You've made your choice. Again. Just go."
I don't wait for his response, just push into the cabin and close the door behindme.Through the window, I watch as he stands frozen for a moment before his shouldersstraighten.He retreats to his bedroom, emerging minutes later with a duffel bag and what looks suspiciously like a gunholster.
I move away from the window, unable to watch himleave.The sound of two motorcycles roaring to life and then fading into the distance is confirmationenough.
Bear whines at the door, clearly distressed by his master'sdeparture.I sink onto the couch, suddenlyexhausted.
"Guess it's just us now," I tell the dog, who pads over and rests his massive head on myknee."Don't worry. He'll be back foryou."
The stew sits forgotten on the table, growing cold like the hope I'd foolishly allowed myself to nurture.I should have known better. Some patterns are too deeply ingrained to change.
I just never thought I'd be the one leftbehind.
Morning breaks with a clarity that seems to mock my emotional turmoil.The storm has finally moved on, leaving brilliant blue skies and sunshine that sparkles off dew-covered leaves.From the cabin porch, I can see all the way down to Serenity Hollow, the town slowly coming back to life after days of being battered by rain.
Bear sits beside me, alert and watchful.He hasn't left my side since Rosco departed, following me from room to room like he's been assigned guard duty.Which, knowing Rosco, he probably has.
My phone buzzes with a text from Earl at the general store.
Roads to town cleared this morning.Coming up your way next. Should be passable by noon.
The news should be a relief. I can finally leave, check on Millie's house, maybe find a hotel in Riversend until I figure out next steps.Instead, I feel a strange reluctance to abandon this temporary sanctuary, even with Rosco gone.
"What do you think, Bear? Should we stay or go?" I scratch behind his ears, earning a contented groan."Not much help, are you?"
I've spent the morning cataloging soil samples and organizing my research notes, trying to focus on work rather than replaying last night's argument.It hasn't been entirely successful.Every few minutes, I find myself glancing at the door, half-expecting Rosco to walk in with some gruff explanation.
But he doesn't, and the silence of the cabin is both peaceful and oppressive.
A knock at the door startles me.Bear is instantly alert, moving to stand between me and the entrance, a low growl building in his chest.
"It's okay," I tell him, though my own heart is racing."Stay."
Through the window, I spot Mrs. Havers on the porch, a basket over one arm.The tension drains from my shoulders as I open the door.
"Thought you might need supplies," she says without preamble, pushing past me into the cabin."Earl mentioned Rosco got called away back to Serenity County on business."
The euphemism might be funny if it weren't so understated."MC business," I correct, closing the door behind her."But yes."
"Hmm." She sets the basket on the counter, unpacking bread, fresh vegetables, and what looks like homemade preserves."That boy never could say no to Tank, even after leaving the club.Loyal to a fault, that one."
"Loyal to everyone except me, apparently," I mutter before I can stop myself.
Mrs. Havers pauses in her unpacking, shrewd eyes assessing me."So that's how it is."
"How what is?"
"You're upset he left." She resumes arranging items on the counter with practiced efficiency."Think he chose the club over you.Again."
The accuracy of her assessment is unnerving."It's not that simple."
"Never is with matters of the heart." She pats the stool beside her."Sit. I brought coffee cake too."
I comply, accepting the plate she hands me."How do you know so much about us?"
"Small town, long memory." She cuts herself a slice of cake."I remember when you two were inseparable.Summer before you left for college, you were at every town event together.Planning your future on that old ridge up by Miller's Creek."
The memory squeezes my heart."That was a long time ago."
"Not so long." She sips her coffee thoughtfully."Not when you measure it against real love."
"We were kids," I protest weakly."We wanted different things."
"And now? Still want different things?"
The question catches me off guard.Do we? The Rosco I've rediscovered these past days is different from the reckless young man I left behind.He's more grounded, more mature.But still tied to a world I walked away from.
"I don't know," I admit. "I thought maybe we could figure it out, but then Tank showed up, and--"
"And history repeated itself." Mrs. Havers nods understandingly."Except it didn't, not really.You know why he left the club, don't you?"
I shake my head. Rosco's reasons for walking away from the Saints have remained a mystery, one of many topics we've skirted around.
"Almost got killed on a run gone bad, I hear." Mrs. Havers' voice drops, as if sharing a secret."Some rival gang set up an ambush.Tank took two bullets, and Rosco somehow believes he should’ve done more to protect him.Rumor is Tank did the whole run for love and nearly bled out before they got him to a doctor."
My stomach clenches. "I didn't know."
"Three years ago. After that, Rosco walked away.Said he was done with violence, done watching brothers die." She studies my reaction carefully."He's not who you think, Deena.He's not choosing the club over you.He's honoring a debt to the man who saved his life."
The revelation shifts something in my understanding.Not enough to erase the hurt of his departure, but enough to complicate my anger.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because someone needs to." She pats my hand."That boy's been half-alive since you left.Even after leaving the club, he's just been existing.Until you showed up again."
"We barely know each other anymore," I protest.
"Don't mistake familiarity for knowledge." She rises, gathering her empty cup. "The roads will be clear soon.You'll have choices to make."
"I know." The weight of those choices presses down on me."My career, my research--they're important to me."
"As they should be." She heads toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob."But if there's one thing I've learned in seventy years, it's that beds get cold and awards gather dust.At the end, it's the people we love who matter most."
With that parting wisdom, she's gone, leaving me with half-eaten coffee cake and uncomfortable truths to consider.
I wander to the window, gazing toward town where Rosco might be, doing whatever MCs do during territorial disputes.The fear I've been suppressing rises again.What if he's hurt? What if he doesn't come back?
What if he does, and I'm already gone?
Bear nudges my hand, whining softly.I scratch his ears absently, mind racing through possibilities.Stay and wait? Leave a note? Return to Atlanta and pretend these days never happened?
My phone rings, startling me from my thoughts.It's Earl.
"Road's clear all the way to your place," he announces without greeting."Checked the house too. East wing's a total loss, but the west side might be salvageable.Insurance folks left their card on what's left of the porch."
"Thank you, Earl. How's...everything in town?" I ask, searching for a way to ask about Rosco without being obvious.
A pause. "If you're asking about a certain mountain man, haven't seen him.Tank and the boys were at the roadhouse last night, but your fella wasn't with them."
So much for small-town subtlety."He's not my 'fella.'"
"Uh-huh." Earl's disbelief is palpable even through the phone."Your car's still where you left it.Battery's dead, but Jimmy can jump it if you're looking to head out."
The option hangs there, an exit strategy I should probably take.The sensible Dr. Wilson would call Jimmy, get her car started, and drive straight to Riversend for a hotel room with reliable Wi-Fi and room service.
But I'm not feeling particularly sensible.
"Actually, I think I'll stay put a bit longer," I hear myself say."I need to finish some research samples.Could you ask Jimmy to drop off some jumper cables instead?I can handle it myself when I'm ready."
"Sure thing, Doc." Earl's smile is audible."I'll tell him to leave them in your mailbox."
After we hang up, I stand in the middle of Rosco's cabin, surrounded by evidence of our briefcohabitation.My notebooks are on the coffee table, my mug next to his on the counter, and my jacket hangs beside his spare on the hook by thedoor.I've already made myself athome.
For the first time in years, I don't have a clear research protocol to follow, no carefully constructed hypothesis totest.Just feelings, messy and complicated and frightening in theirintensity.
The rational part of me says toleave.To protect myself from more pain when this inevitably crashes and burnsagain.
But another part, the part that still remembers what it felt like to be loved by Rosco Stone, whispers tostay.To fight. To see if what's between us is strong enough to survive not just our past, but whatever future we mightbuild.
"What do you think, Bear?" I ask the dog, who tilts his headquizzically."Should I stay and see thisthrough?"
His tail thumps against the floor, which I choose to interpret asagreement.
"Alright then." I reach for my field notebook, flipping to a freshpage."Let's formulate a new research question: Can two stubborn people with complicated history find their way back to eachother?"
For the first time in my career, I'm terrified of theanswer.