Chapter 16
Sixteen
Allison
From the moment he uttered the words in the truck, I knew what he wanted to talk about. We don't speak as we head home. Not as we get out of the truck and head inside. Not as he pours a glass of bourbon for himself and a glass of wine for me.
"Go get changed," he says. "This is going to take a while, and I'd prefer for us both to be comfortable."
My stomach is full of nerves as I change into my comfortable clothes and then head back out to the kitchen. "Will you please talk to me, Dime?" I say as I have a seat.
He has a seat across from me and drinks the bourbon. "Grant," he hisses after swallowing the liquid.
"Sorry?" I say.
"My name is Grant."
The words hang in the air between us, and I watch as he sets down his glass with shaking hands.
He won't meet my eyes, and I can see the tension in every line of his body.
He's terrified. This man who rides a motorcycle and wears a leather cut and looks like he's never been afraid of anything in his life is absolutely terrified.
"Grant Swain," he continues, his voice rough. "That's my real name. Dime is just a nickname. A cover."
I take a sip of my wine, letting the information settle. "Okay."
His eyes snap to mine. "Okay? That's all you have to say?"
"What do you want me to say?" I set my glass down carefully. "That I'm shocked? That I had no idea?"
"Allison—"
"Dani told me months ago," I say quietly. "About you being undercover. About Devil too."
He goes completely still. "What?"
"She told me. She thought I should know what I was getting into." I wrap my hands around my wine glass, needing something to hold onto. "I've known for a while, Dime. Or Grant. Whichever you prefer."
He's staring at me like I've grown a second head. "You've known for months? And you didn't say anything?"
"What was I supposed to say? Hey, I know you're lying to me about who you are, want to talk about it?" I shake my head. "You would have told me when you were ready. And clearly, you're ready now."
He runs both hands through his hair, standing up and pacing the kitchen. "Fuck. I've been tearing myself apart trying to figure out how to tell you, and you've known the whole time?"
"Not the whole time. Just for a few months." I watch him pace, and my heart aches for him. "I'm not mad, if that's what you're worried about."
"You should be. I've been lying to you since the day we met."
"Have you?" I stand up and walk over to him, stopping his pacing by putting my hands on his chest. "Or have you just been using a different name?"
"It's more than just a name, Allison. My entire life is a lie. The club, the cut, everything I've built here is fake."
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks pretty real." I can feel his heart pounding under my palms. "The way you care about the people in that club, the way you protect them, the way you've built a family here. That's not fake, Grant."
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they're shining with unshed tears. "I don't deserve you."
"That's not your decision to make." I go up on my toes and kiss him softly. "I love you. Not because of your name or what you do for a living. I love you because of who you are. And that person? He's the same whether he's called Dime or Grant."
His arms come around me, pulling me tight against his chest. "I need to explain," he says into my hair. "I need you to understand why I did this."
"Okay." I pull back just enough to look at him. "Then explain. Tell me everything."
We go back to the table, but this time he pulls his chair next to mine instead of sitting across from me. He needs to be close, and I understand that. Whatever he's about to tell me, it's important.
"My mom was a single mother," he starts, staring down at his bourbon. "My dad left before I was born, and she did her best to raise me on her own. But she struggled. With life, with money, with everything." He pauses. "And eventually, she started using."
My heart clenches. "Grant—"
"It started with pills. Painkillers for an injury at work.
Then it was other stuff. Harder stuff." His voice is flat, emotionless, like he's reciting facts instead of telling his own story.
"I watched her choose drugs over me. Over food, over rent, over everything.
By the time I was sixteen, I was basically raising myself. "
"I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. She made her choices, and I've made peace with that.
" He finally looks at me. "But watching her go through that, watching her destroy herself and not being able to do anything about it, it fucked me up.
I wanted to help people, wanted to make sure other kids didn't have to go through what I did. "
"So you became a cop."
"Yeah. I became a cop." He takes another drink. "And I was good at it. Really good. Which is why when they needed someone to go undercover with a motorcycle club that was connected to drug trafficking, they asked me."
"How long have you been undercover?"
"Three years. Almost four now." He shakes his head. "I came into Saint's Outlaws as a prospect, worked my way up, earned their trust. And the whole time, I've been feeding information back to the police department."
I try to imagine living a lie for that long. Pretending to be someone else, watching every word, every action, for years. "That must have been exhausting."
"It was. It is." He looks at me. "But then I met you, and suddenly it got a lot more complicated."
"Why?"
"Because for the first time since I went undercover, I wanted to be the person I was pretending to be. I wanted to be Dime, the guy who works at a garage and rides a motorcycle and doesn't have to lie to the woman he loves."
Tears prick at my eyes. "You can still be that person."
"Can I? Because I don't know anymore, Allison. I don't know who I am. Grant or Dime. Cop or outlaw." His voice breaks. "I don't know which life is real."
I reach over and take his hand. "Which one do you love more?"
"What?"
"Which life do you love more? The cop life or the outlaw life?"
He's quiet for a long moment, and I can see the war happening behind his eyes. Finally, he says quietly, "The outlaw life."
It's barely a whisper, but I hear it clear as day. And from the look on his face, admitting it out loud is terrifying for him.
"I love being part of the club," he continues.
"I love the brotherhood, the loyalty, the way we take care of our own.
I love working at the garage and riding my bike and having people who would die for me just like I would die for them.
" He looks at me. "But I became a cop to help people, to make a difference, and I don't know how to reconcile those two things. "
"You don't have to choose right now," I tell him. "You're still undercover. You still have a job to do. And when that job is over, when you've done what you set out to do, then you can figure out what comes next."
"What if the club hates me when they find out? What if they see this as a betrayal?"
"Then you deal with it. But you also remember that you went undercover to stop drugs from hurting people. To protect kids like you were. That's not a betrayal. That's being a good person."
He pulls me into his lap, burying his face in my neck. "How are you so calm about this?"
"Because I've had months to process it. You're just now saying it out loud." I run my fingers through his hair. "And because I meant what I said. I love you. All of you. Grant and Dime. Cop and outlaw. Every version of you that exists."
"Even if I choose the outlaw life over being a cop?"
"Even then." I pull back to look at him. "I'll support you no matter what you choose, Grant. Because at the end of the day, what matters to me is that you're happy and you're safe and you're mine."
He kisses me then. It's deep and desperate, and I can taste the bourbon on his lips mixed with salt from tears I didn't see him cry. When we break apart, he's looking at me like I'm the most precious thing in the world.
"I love you," he says. "So fucking much, Allison."
"I love you too. Both versions of you."
We sit there for a long time, just holding each other. Eventually, Whiskers comes over and jumps into my lap, purring loudly as she settles between us. It makes us both laugh, and some of the tension eases.
"So what happens now?" I ask.
"Now we keep going. I keep working the case." He strokes Whiskers absently. "And you keep being the amazing woman you are while I try not to fuck everything up."
"You're not going to fuck everything up."
"You don't know that."
"I do." I kiss his cheek. "Because you have me, and I have you, and together we can handle whatever comes next."
"Together," he repeats, and there's wonder in his voice.
"Together," I confirm.
We stay like that for the rest of the evening, talking about his past and his fears and his hopes for the future.
He tells me about his mom, about the cases he's worked, about the people in the club he's come to care about.
And I listen, asking questions when I need to, offering comfort when he needs it, and loving him through every revelation.
Because that's what you do when you love someone. You stand by them, even when things get complicated. Even when they've been lying to you. Even when the future is uncertain and scary.
You stand by them anyway.
And as I fall asleep that night in Grant's arms, with Whiskers purring between us, I know that no matter what happens next, we're going to face it together.
That's all that matters.