10. Kate
Kate
The ride back to Finn’s house was interesting.
Lucy had taken the truck back to the clubhouse with Noah, which meant I had to ride on Finn’s bike. I’d done it once with Caleb and had not enjoyed it at all. Caleb had laughed afterwards, saying I’d nearly cracked his ribs from how tightly I held onto him.
With Finn, it felt awkward. I wrapped my arms around him carefully, not nearly as tight as I wanted to even though fear raced through me every time the bike leaned into a turn.
Finn took it slow. Slow enough that eventually I stopped tensing every second and rested my forehead carefully against the back of his kutte.
When he slowed near a familiar street, I lifted my head slightly and looked around. We weren’t far from the clubhouse. Close enough that if something happened, the club would get there fast.
That made me feel better. So did knowing Noah wasn’t far away.
Finn pulled into a small driveway beside a neat two-story house with pale siding and a trimmed lawn.
No rusted junk, overflowing bins or broken windows. It was not what I expected, and the thought made shame heat my cheeks. What had I expected? Grease-stained walls? Beer cans everywhere? A mattress on the floor?
Idiot.
Finn killed the engine, and I climbed off quickly, trying not to look as flustered as I felt.
Inside, the house was bright. Sunlight poured through wide windows onto polished wood floors.
The air smelled faintly like coffee and laundry detergent.
The couch was clean, a cream throw lay over the back of the black leather, the kitchen counters clear, everything in its place.
The only personal items noticeable were photos of him and other club members.
I stood there a little too long staring.
“You can look around,” Finn said.
“I wasn’t—” I stopped myself. I had been staring. Judging. Assuming. “It’s nice.”
He gave a faint shrug. “It’s home.”
Finn gestured down the hallway. “Bathroom’s there.” Then towards the stairs. “Spare room’s at the end. I’ll take that. You and Noah can have my room. It’s got its own bathroom.”
“You don’t have to give up your room.”
“It’s all good,” he replied easily. “Mine’s bigger. Better for the kid.”
My chest ached painfully at the quiet kindness of his offer.
“You should sleep,” Finn said.
“I don’t think I can.”
“You can,” he replied. “And you will.” He led me upstairs without waiting for an argument.
His bedroom looked exactly like the rest of the house, clean and tidy. The bed was neatly made.
I got in, knowing it was no use arguing, and I was exhausted. I knew I needed to take advantage of not having Noah for a few hours. My head sank into the soft pillow, which smelled like his aftershave. Warm, spicy, masculine. It made my heart skip a beat and settled my nerves at the same time.
"Just rest," Finn said before stepping back towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "I'll grab you a bottle of water and some painkillers."
"You don't have to—" Before I could argue, he'd disappeared downstairs.
I settled back against the pillows, but sleep refused to come.
A few minutes later, voices drifted through the open bedroom window. One belonged to Finn. The other... A woman.
Curiosity got the better of me. I slipped quietly from the bed and crossed to the window.
She stood beside a sleek black Mercedes at the end of the drive.
Tall and beautiful, her dark hair was pulled into a glossy ponytail, with oversized sunglasses resting on her head despite the fading afternoon sun.
Even from upstairs I could tell her clothes were expensive.
Tailored and elegant. The sort of woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine rather than wandered into biker territory.
She didn't look like one of the women I'd seen at the clubhouse.
I couldn't make out the words, only the sharp edge in their voices.
Finn scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his shoulders taut with frustration.
The woman crossed her arms, chin lifted, waiting.
He shook his head once, firmly enough that even from the bedroom window I knew the answer was no.
She moved closer, saying something I couldn't make out, but Finn didn't close the gap.
Instead, he moved back half a step, putting space between them, his jaw set so tightly I could almost feel the tension from where I stood.
A moment later she climbed into her car and drove away.
Finn stood in the driveway for a few seconds before dragging a hand over his face.
A minute later, footsteps sounded on the stairs. I hurried back beneath the blankets just as Finn nudged the bedroom door open.
He carried a bottle of water, a packet of crackers and a small paper bag. "Maria insisted you take these." He held out the bag. "Painkillers."
The easy calm he'd worn earlier had vanished, replaced by something tight around his eyes.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
His gaze flicked to me for the briefest second. "Yeah. Don’t worry about me, just get some rest.” He stepped out and closed the door behind him.
I pulled the covers up to my chin and lay staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever before sleep finally dragged me under.
When I woke, the sunlight had shifted lower across the walls.
Panic hit.
Noah.
I sat up too quickly, my eyes darting around the room, before I remembered he was with Lucy.
Then a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” I called, feeling stupid because it was his house, but appreciating the privacy.
Finn came in slowly, holding a mug, but the first thing I noticed was how he’d taken off his leather vest and how his T-shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders.
“You’re up.”
“How long was I asleep?”
“Couple of hours.”
“Lucy?”
“She texted. They’re good. He’s fine.” Finn watched me carefully like he could see every emotion crossing my face. “You hungry?”
I shook my head automatically, but my stomach growled loudly enough to betray me.
His mouth twitched slightly. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Thought so.”
“I can sort something,” I said quickly. “You’ve done enough.”
He raised a brow. “You sure?”
I nodded eagerly because cooking felt normal and safe and that was something I hadn’t had in a long time.
Finn followed me downstairs while I searched through cupboards and the fridge trying to figure out what I could make.
The kitchen slowly filled with soft sounds that felt strangely comforting. A pan warming on the stove. Vegetables chopping against the board. The quiet hum of the fridge. I hadn’t realized how much I missed normal things until then.
Finn leaned against the counter, watching me for a while before stepping in automatically whenever I needed something.
“Salt?” he asked, already reaching into the cupboard.
I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”
He passed it over, our fingers brushing briefly and heat flickered through me before I could stop it. I focused back on the pan quickly, hoping he thought the red in my cheeks was from the heat off the cooking.
“You cook a lot?” he asked after a minute.
“Used to,” I replied. “Before Noah.”
“And after?”
I laughed. “Now it’s more like whatever I can throw together one-handed while holding him.”
His mouth twitched slightly. “Sounds about right.”
“What about you?” I glanced at him. “You survive off takeout?”
“Mostly,” he admitted. “Or whatever Maria throws at me at the clubhouse.”
“Explains a lot.”
His eyebrow lifted slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I smiled despite myself. “There wasn’t much in the fridge.”
He looked down at himself thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I’m still alive.”
“Barely,” I muttered.
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“So,” Finn said after a moment, “what were you doing before all this?”
The knife slowed slightly in my hand.
Before.
Before running and constantly checking over my shoulder.
“Bar work,” I said. “Some kitchen stuff. Nothing exciting.”
“That where you met Caleb?”
“Yeah.”
The ache hit.
“He was kind,” I said. “Not what people expected from a rough-looking out-of-towner.”
Finn nodded once slowly. “Yeah. That was him.”
I glanced towards him carefully. “You miss him.”
“I didn’t really know him properly,” he answered finally. “He left the same month I came out.”
“But,” he continued, leaning back against the counter slightly, “he was one of ours. That’s enough.”
Something in his voice warmed.
Loyalty.
Brotherhood.
I didn’t fully understand it, I’d never had something like that, but I could hear how much it mattered to him.
“Came out?” I asked carefully.
“That doesn’t matter.” The answer came quickly enough that I knew not to push. “He mattered to people who matter to me,” Finn added.
I nodded slowly. “He was good,” I whispered. “Better than most.”
“Yeah,” Finn replied. “That tracks. Lucy’s good people too.”
I nodded again. Lucy had been nothing but kind to me since the moment I arrived.
Finn’s phone suddenly rang and I jumped so badly I nearly dropped the spoon in my hand.
“Fuck,” Finn muttered under his breath.
He pulled the phone from his pocket, but he didn’t answer or silence it immediately. Instead, he stared at the screen and dread hardened his features.
“You gonna answer that?” I asked carefully.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No,” he replied, then shoved the phone back into his pocket.
I looked back down at the food. “Dinner’s almost ready,” I told him.
“I’ll set the table.” He turned away too quickly.
I watched him move around the kitchen, grabbing plates while tension settled thickly between us. Not awkward but charged, and I itched to find out what was bugging him.
I reached past him for a plate at the exact same moment he stepped closer.
My breath caught when my chest brushed his arm. Finn froze, and the kitchen suddenly felt too small and way too hot. His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth before he stepped back abruptly like he’d burned himself.
“Dinner’s ready,” I whispered.
“Yeah.” He dragged a hand over the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "I, uh..." His voice sounded rougher than before. "Need to clean up before we eat."
Before I could answer, he'd already turned away, disappearing down the hallway. I stared after him for a moment, my heart beating far harder than it should have been.