Chapter 14 Frost
FROST
“Who’s doing the pick up at the church tonight?” Chaos hollers.
Eagle looks over Paige’s shoulder to study the schedule I put together for the next several days.
Each location has a certain day and time, so we can stagger the load.
It gives us time to wrap and address the packages before more arrive.
This way, nothing is missed. Once they’re labeled, they’re loaded onto a moving truck until we head out to deliver them.
“You and Colt are up,” Paige yells back over the noise.
Everyone in town has rallied to make this the most successful toy drive we’ve ever had. Losing Mom made a huge impact in the community, and no one wants to see this project fall through the cracks.
Even though everyone here is excited I came back—hell, more excited than I deserve—being here feels wrong.
The clubhouse looks the same except now, the tables are cluttered with toys, bikes line up out front, and people are shouting across the room, bantering back and forth.
Nothing changed, except me. I’ve been here a week, and every damn hour I’m moodier, quieter, and snapping at people who don’t deserve it.
Of course, none of these idiots will quit asking me why, but I can’t explain it to them when I don’t even understand it.
There’s one person who can make this better… Hope. I need to text her and tell her why I pulled a disappearing act. Why hasn’t she reached out?
Paige plants herself in front of me while I’m elbow-deep in the box of donated toys I’ve been reorganizing for no good reason.
“Okay, grumpy,” she says, hands on her hips. “You gonna tell me why you’re stomping around here like someone stole your bike?”
“Not in the mood,” I mutter, digging harder into the box.
She snorts. “Yeah, no shit. You’ve been acting like a storm cloud for days. Which means…” She leans closer. “It’s either about the club… or a woman.”
I whip my head up. “Drop it.”
“Ha!” She points at me. “Knew it. Only a woman could make you act like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.”
“Shut up, Paige,” I snap, sharper than I mean to.
She freezes, and her eyes widen in surprise. Before I can apologize, Dad’s voice booms across the room.
“Paige, go help the prospects load up the first round.”
She rolls her eyes and then points at me before turning on her heel. “This isn’t over.”
Grunting, I throw the Barbie I’m holding into the box.
Paige will make good on that promise. She’ll hound me until I break.
I glance up and notice that Dad is watching me from across the room.
He jerks his chin toward the back hallway, signaling for me to meet him.
I sigh, drag a hand over my face, and follow him.
Dad stops outside his office door, unlocks it, and ushers me in. He gestures for me to sit while he leans up against his desk.
He crosses his arms. “Son, talk.”
I stare at the floor. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit.”
My jaw ticks, but I refuse to respond.
“You came home with a chip on your shoulder. This is more than grieving for your mom,” Dad says, his voice low but firm. “I’m getting real tired of watching you drown in it. Start talking.”
I swallow, throat tight. “It’s nothing,” I start. “Just me being an idiot—”
“Try again.”
My hands clench into fists because I’m not ready to discuss Hope. Saying it out loud makes it real, and if I let myself talk about her, I’m scared I won’t hold it together. Dad waits, and I finally break.
“It’s this woman,” I say, the words rough and scraping. “Hope.”
Dad nods once, encouraging without pushing.
“I met her at a coffee shop.” I laugh humorlessly. “Damn creep wouldn’t leave her alone, so I stepped in.”
“Atta boy.”
“But that’s not the part that messed me up.” I shake my head. “It was her. The second she looked at me, I felt like someone slammed a fist into my chest. I couldn’t breathe.”
Dad gives a slow, knowing smirk. “Sounds about right. The same reaction I had when I met your mother.”
“I spent the afternoon with her in that café, then I left because Vegas was waiting on me. I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again, but something drew me back to Spring Valley.
I never thought she’d be sitting there when I walked back into the coffee shop a couple days later.
She asked me to stay with her. Then…” My voice fades, softens.
“She invited me to Thanksgiving with her family.”
Dad whistles under his breath. “Big step.”
“It was good,” I confess. “Better than good. Her parents like me, at least I think they do, and Amy, her best friend, gives me hell, but she doesn’t hate me.
And Hope…” My voice breaks for half a second, and I take a shaky breath.
“I haven’t felt that kind of peace around someone in a long time. Maybe ever.”
Dad studies me carefully. “What happened?”
I drag my fingers through my hair. “You texted me.” Dad doesn’t flinch. “You said the toy drive was coming up, that the club needed me.”
Dad’s voice is gentle. “So, you panicked.”
“I ran,” I growl, disgust twisting my stomach. “Packed my shit and ran before she came home. No explanation, no conversation, nothing.”
Dad sighs, long and heavy. “Son…”
“I’m a coward,” I snap. “I know she deserved better. She’s… fuck she’s a damn beacon of light and warmth. I’m this.” I gesture to myself. “A jaded biker who lost his mom, a guy who disappears when things get hard.”
Dad takes a step closer. “Frost. Look at me.” I do. “You’re wrong.”
The certainty in his voice hits like a punch.
“You’re not a coward,” he says. “You’re a man grieving his mother. A man who thinks he isn’t allowed good things. You think the people who love you are better off without you because you don’t think you’re enough.” He shakes his head. “You’re afraid if you let your heart thaw, you’ll become weak.”
My chest tightens painfully.
Dad grips my shoulder. “That girl didn’t make you weak. She made you hope for something again. That scares the hell out of you, which means she matters.”
I swallow hard. My eyes burn. I blink angrily.
Dad lowers his voice. “Have you called her? Explained what’s going on?”
I shake my head. “Every time I go to text her, something comes up. How do I explain why I up and left without any warning?” A breath shudders out of me. “I don’t even know if she’d answer the phone if I called.”
“Then you show up,” he says simply. “You look her in the eye, and tell her the truth. All of it.”
I shake my head. “What if she hates me?”
“Then you take it like a man,” Dad says. “But what if she doesn’t?” His gaze softens. “What if she’s waiting for you to come home to her?”
Home… The word hits harder than it should. Hope felt like home. I didn’t realize how much until I walked away from her.
Dad squeezes my shoulder again. “Stop letting fear decide your life. If you love her,” he says and then pauses.
“I see it all over your damn face, don’t even bother to deny it.
Fight for her. The toy drive will be over in three days, plenty of time to pull your head out of your ass and make this right. ”
I take a long, slow breath, and for the first time all week, I know exactly what I need to do.