Chapter 2
I navigate my pickup truck through the icy streets of Bear Ridge. Ten years away, and not a damn thing has changed. Snow blankets the town, and the roads glisten with a treacherous sheen. It's too cold and slick for my bike, which sits idle in the garage. I grip the steering wheel tighter. I get why they call it a cage. Whenever I'm in one, I'm reminded of highway trips packed to the brim with my father and uncles. My backpack, stuffed with my few meager possessions, rode on my lap because there's nowhere else to fit it. Motorcycles are freeing. I've been in love with them since my first ride at sixteen. It was heaven to a kid used to being stuffed into a car designed for five but filled with eight. Still is. For a while, I thought Bear Ridge was heaven as well. The lodging was decent, spacious, and clean. Sundays were off days, and the food was delicious. Having Noel made the Bear Ridge experience even better.
Now, I'm back in the town, I was forced to leave. Everywhere I look, I see the Barkley influence. Noel's family damn near owns this town. How the hell was I ever on her level? She swore she never saw our differences, but how could she not? She was the moon—distant and untouchable, and I was the streets. And she was never farther away than she was last night.
Dammit. Things didn't go the way I'd hoped. Or the way they might have if I'd had an actual plan. Ten years of being away from her, ten years of wondering how she was doing— who she was doing. I figured she'd moved on with her life. Why the hell hadn't she? Why wasn't she married with children? Are the men in Bear Ridge blind? She's the prettiest, kindest, most intelligent woman around.
I don't get it. Never did. Maybe she got off on slumming with the help back then. She stunned me when she gave me her innocence. She could have saved that gift for anyone. I told her so. But she said she loved me. Saw me. Wanted me. She was a miracle for a boy who started working the farming circuit at sixteen. I hadn't been held by someone who loved me in years. I'd had plenty of sex, but no lovemaking. Noel was starving to be loved. Our hunger synced like a custom wrench fitting perfectly into its socket.
Then I left. Forced out of town by an arrogant bastard. Left when I should have fought—should have taken her with me. I was too young and dumb to understand there would never be another Noel. Too stupid to realize that the money and power wielded in Bear Ridge wouldn't have meant shit two or three hundred miles away. But I'm done being dumb. Except my chest still burns from her cold rejection. Strike one. Then she shared that look with Lowe. They'd obviously plotted for him to place the winning bid. Strike two. Because no way in hell was she going home with him. If he hadn't put a ring on her finger in ten years, then he missed his shot. No way is he getting the chance now. Strike three. Screw him.
I pull into the parking lot of Big B, the Barkley family's grocery and convenience store. Stepping out of the truck, the frigid air bites at my face. I scan the parking lot, and there he is—Lowell, the county sheriff. We've never met, but I've stayed in enough small towns to know it's wise to recognize the local law. The minute he spots me, he sizes me up, his gaze flicking over my worn leather jacket, taking in every detail.
"Mr. Arroyo," Lowe says, his tone flat and measured. "Welcome back."
"Thanks," I reply, matching his tone. "It's Trace." I don't offer a handshake. Instead, I wait, arms relaxed at my sides, eyes steady on his.
"So, what brings you back to Bear Ridge?" He narrows his eyes. "Hope it's not trouble."
"Trouble?" A muscle tics in my jaw, but I keep my expression neutral.
"People don't just come back to a small town after years away without a reason."
I resist the urge to laugh. "This place should be thanking me for bringing some business in."
His eyes flick to my jacket again, noting my Desperados patch. His lips press into a thin line. "Did some checking. The Desperados aren't exactly known for bringing peace and prosperity when they roll into a town."
The nerve in my jaw jumps wildly. "I'm not here as a Desperado. I'm a small business owner now. Your checking should have revealed that. But it doesn't matter; it's none of your damn business why I'm here or what I'm doing. I haven't broken any laws, and I don't intend to." I turn toward the store, my boots crunching on the snow-covered gravel. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some shopping to do."
"Business, huh?" Lowe steps into my path, not backing down. "Was that stunt you pulled with Noel last night part of your business ?"
I stop, meeting his gaze head-on. "I don't like to repeat myself. So I won't."
His eyes narrow further, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them. "Fine," he says after a tense moment. "Just make sure Noel's not on your agenda. She's not interested, no matter how much money you throw around."
"You speak for her?" His eyes dart away before returning defiantly. No way is he speaking for Noel. If she had a problem with me, she'd tell me herself. "I didn't think so."
"I look out for my own," he replies, his voice low. "Just know that I'll be watching."
"Watch all you want. You'll find nothing but reasons to thank me once Arrow picks up and starts bringing in jobs. Jobs that mean more families and more cash flowing through your community. Think about that while you're watching."
We stand there for a moment, the cold seeping into our bones, neither of us willing to break first. Finally, Lowe steps aside, his gaze hard and unyielding. I walk into Big B without another word, but the store's warmth can't thaw my ice. The encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth. I grab the items I need and go, no longer in the mood for holiday decor. I wish I were on my bike, the adrenaline and cold air helping to clear my head. The roar of the engine, the sting of the wind—that's what I need right now.
When I get home, the sun is dipping low beyond the yard. I park the pickup and slam the door behind me. The house is quiet, too quiet. I toss my jacket over the back of a chair, running a hand through my hair to diffuse any lingering anger. It's been a long damn day, and I'm still pissed—at Lowe, at myself, at the whole damn situation.
"Daddy?"
Her small voice cuts through my turmoil like a beacon. I turn, and there she is—Jelena, my little girl, standing in the living room doorway. Her big brown eyes are full of curiosity and mischief, and her long, dark curls bounce around her face. Damn, Lowell straight to hell. I was supposed to pick up the gingerbread house supplies. She is not about to let me forget it.
"Hey, jelly bean," I say, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. I scoop her into my arms, enjoying her giggles and her tiny arms around my neck. Her warmth and innocence centers me in a way nothing else can.
"I missed you," she pouts, her lower lip jutting out adorably.
"Missed you more," I reply, peppering her face with kisses until she squeals with laughter. Her joy is infectious, chasing away the remnants of my anger. "Were you good for Auntie Rosalee?"
She nods vigorously. "We made cookies."
"Did you save me any?"
"Maybe," she teases, her eyes sparkling. She looks around. "Where's the gingerbread stuff? We need it tomorrow."
"I know Jelly Belly. Sorry, I forgot. I'll get it and bring it back in the morning. I promise." Thankfully, she just nods. Christmas is too distracting for her to focus on one thing. She's already made me swear we'll get a tree—just like in the movie—on Saturday. We could never fit one in our old apartment. I hated to deny her then, but I'd held a miser's grip on every penny until I set up Arrow Trucking.
I set her down, watching as she darts back toward the kitchen. Rosalee appears in the hallway, carrying a grocery bag. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a braid, and a tired but warm smile is on her face.
"Here, let me help with that," I say, taking the bag from her. "I was going to get the rest when Jelena jumped me."
"Were you," she laughs, adding, "And who jumped who?" We move to the kitchen, and begin unpacking.
"Everything go okay today?" I ask, glancing at her.
"Yeah. Jelena was an angel, as usual." I give her a look at that characterization before we grin. We both know Auntie Rosa would never say anything different.
"Good to hear." I pause, then add, "I appreciate you being here, Rosa. I don't know what I'd do without you. What I would have done without you." I don't tell her enough. But being here, uprooting our lives, charting a new future, makes it clearer.
She smiles. "We're family. We take care of each other."
An awkward silence settles between us. There's so much unsaid, so much history and pain. Trick, her husband, was killed in an accidental shooting. Six months later, Marisol, my sister, and her best friend was murdered. Losing both of them two years ago and so close together nearly broke us. Rosa moved in to help with raising Jelena, my sister's daughter. I felt guilty for sticking so much responsibility on Rosa, but she begged to help. Said she needed a reason to go on. She's been with me every since.
"Bandit called earlier," Rosalee says after a moment. "He wants to talk to you."
I roll my eyes, a wry smile forming. "Of course he does." Bandit, ever the overprotective brother. "I'll give him a call."
She hesitates. "He's just... concerned."
"I know." I place a hand on her shoulder. "I'll handle it."
She nods, her eyes meeting mine briefly before she finishes putting away the groceries. "Hey, where's the gingerbread items?"
"Getting them in the morning," I call over my shoulder, retreating to my study. I sink into the leather chair, rubbing a hand over my face. The confrontation with Lowe replays in my mind. Asshole got me in trouble with both my ladies. I hope Noel won't be the third.
I stare out the window at the snow-covered landscape. The world is quiet, and the sky is painted with the last lavender and peach sunset colors. But my mind is anything but peaceful. I can't get Noel out of my head. I remember the first time I saw her, standing in the barn, laughing with her cousins. Her smile was bright enough to light up every damn corner. My vision tunneled. Everything else faded away until only she remained.
She had this way about her—soft and radiant like sunlight breaking through clouds. Her hair, a cascade of golden waves, framed her delicate face. Her cheeks flushed with laughter, and her eyes... those eyes saw straight through me. Made me feel ten feet tall. I'd turned twenty-one, but her eyes made me feel like a man. Like I could slay all her dragons and conquer the world. It took a few more years to realize that being a man wasn't about any of that macho bullshit. It was about handling your responsibilities and not walking away when shit got hard.
She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. It was how she carried herself—shy, almost fragile, yet there was a strength beneath the surface. She didn't demand attention, but it was impossible not to notice her. I found excuses to be near her. If she was heading to the store, I'd suddenly needed something. When she walked back from the library, I'd offer to carry her books. Sundays were the best. She'd sit under the gazebo, reading, and I'd watch from a distance until I finally gathered the courage to join her.
I wore her down, bit by bit until she let me in. Her father didn't make it easy. A cold-hearted man who was as harsh with her as he was with everyone else. The things he said to her and how he made her doubt herself made my blood boil. I wanted to protect her from all of it.
But then I had to leave. Forced out by that same man who couldn't stand the thought of his daughter with someone like me. I was too young to fight back, afraid of what might happen if I stayed.
Leaving Noel behind was the biggest mistake of my life.
A soft knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. "Daddy?"
"Come in, Jelly Belly," I call.
Jelena peeks around the door, holding a plate with a slightly misshapen cookie. "I saved this one for you."
I smile, my heart swelling. "Thank you, sweetheart." I take the cookie, pretending to inspect it. Holding it at a distance and turning it around and around. "Looks, um, delicious."
She giggles. "It's a snowman, but his head fell off."
"Well, headless snowmen taste the best." I take a bite, making an exaggerated sound of delight. "Mmm, perfect."
Her laughter fills the room, and for a moment, the weight lifts. She climbs into my lap, settling against me. "Will you read me a story before bed?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.
"Of course." I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. "Go pick one out, and I'll be right there." She hops down and scurries off, leaving me alone again.
I take a deep breath, looking back out the window. The darkness outside mirrors the uncertainty within me. But one thing is clear—I can't let Noel slip away again. I won't make the same mistake twice.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Bandit's number, hesitating for a moment before dialing. The line rings twice before he picks up.
"Trace," he says, his voice gruff. "Been waiting to hear from you."
"Yeah, sorry. Been busy settling in."
"How's Jelena?"
"She's good. Growing like a weed."
"And Rosalee?"
"Also, fine." I grunt. Bandit has been my MC brother since we patched in together. We're the best of friends, but Rosalee is our rare disagreement. He thinks she never really processed Trick's death. Instead, she just moved on with her ready-made family. I see his point, but there's nothing wrong with working off grief. People grieve in different ways, I told him. But he responded that she's not grieving, she's running. I see his point, but Rosa is okay.
He finally sighs. "You need anything, you let me know. You know I'm here for you… All of you."
"I appreciate it, brother."
We end the call, and I sit there for a moment, the phone heavy in my hand.
"Daddy!" Jelena calls from down the hall.
"Coming!" I pocket the phone and push everything else aside. My daughter needs me, and that's all that matters.