Chapter 18
Chains POV
The drive to Donatello’s was quieter than I expected. It wasn’t awkward; it just felt easy. It was the kind of silence that happens when neither person feels the need to talk.
Cleo sat beside me, looking out the window as we drove through town. Every now and then, she’d glance over. Every now and then, she’d catch me looking. The first time she smiled, the second time, she smiled wider, by the third time, I stopped pretending I wasn’t doing it.
That earned me a laugh.
The sound settled somewhere deep in my chest. I decided I liked making her laugh. A lot. It mattered more than I expected, as something small had just shifted into place.
Donatello’s sat on the edge of town. It was small, family-owned, and cozy, which was exactly what I wanted. I didn’t want to impress her with fancy restaurants or big gestures. That wasn’t the point tonight.
It was about spending time together.
Just us.
The hostess led us to a quiet booth at the back. Warm lighting, brick walls, the smell of fresh bread and garlic. A few families were scattered around. Nothing fancy, nothing overwhelming, just comfortable.
“I like this place,” Cleo said.
Relief loosened something in my chest. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “It feels welcoming.”
The waiter appeared with menus. “What can I get you both to drink?”
“A beer,” I said.
“I’ll have a beer too,” Cleo added.
I blinked. She caught it immediately.
“What?”
A grin tugged at my mouth. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I was married to a mechanic, not a librarian.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Fair enough.”
The waiter left, and most of the nerves I’d been carrying disappeared with him. Still, I kept waiting for the moment to feel too good to be real.
Conversation flowed more easily than I expected. Maybe it was because we’d already spent months getting to know each other. Maybe it was because we’d become friends first. Whatever the reason, being with Cleo felt easy, and that made me realize how much I wanted it to last.
We talked about work, the school, the club, and Rage’s latest chaos. Tommy’s obsession with bikes, and Lola was convincing Tommy to eat vegetables because, apparently, she had powers no one else possessed.
The more we talked, the more relaxed Cleo became. The smile she’d worn when I picked her up appeared more often, and every time, I found myself looking for it again.
“Tommy built another ramp,” she said.
I groaned. “How bad?”
“The neighbors complained.”
“That bad, huh?”
“He tried jumping over a garden fence.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “Of course he did.”
“Mom nearly had a heart attack.”
I could picture Stella chasing Tommy around the yard while he somehow escaped consequences entirely.
“I swear he gets more fearless every day,” Cleo said.
“Pretty sure he gets that from you.”
She looked offended. “I am not fearless.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Cleo.”
Her laugh returned. “Fine.”
“Besides,” I added, “Skylar’s the cautious one.”
That softened her immediately. “Always has been.”
“Smart kid.”
A smile touched her lips. “Definitely takes after me.”
I snorted. “Pretty sure she got that from Wade.”
The smile didn’t disappear, it softened, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. Then Cleo laughed quietly, and the tension in my chest eased.
“You might be right.”
Just like that, the conversation moved on. No awkwardness. No tension. Wade was simply part of her story, and the rest of dinner carried on as if that had always been true.
Exactly as he should be.
----
The food arrived, and for a while we ate in comfortable silence. Donatello’s had the best lasagna in town, which I knew would earn Tommy’s approval.
Halfway through dinner, Cleo set down her fork. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
She hesitated just long enough for me to know she’d been thinking about it. “Were you actually named Chains?”
I stared at her. Then I burst out laughing, a real laugh. Relief flooded her face.
“Thank God.”
That only made me laugh harder. “You seriously thought my mother named me Chains?”
Her cheeks pinked. “Maybe.”
“No,” I said, still amused.
“Good.”
The amusement in her eyes hit harder than it should have. “My name’s Gabriel.”
She blinked. The smile faded into surprise. “Gabriel?”
I nodded. “Gabriel Mercer.”
She stared at me like she was trying to fit the name to the man in front of her. I understood. Most people only knew Chains: the patch, the biker, the Vice President. Not the man underneath, so I let the quiet settle for a moment.
“My mom used Gabriel,” I added. “Everyone else called me Gabe.”
Cleo smiled slightly. “Gabe.”
The sound of my name on her lips caught me off guard. It had been a long time since someone new called me that.
“Can I call you that?” she asked.
It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. More than I wanted to admit. Hearing her ask, made me feel exposed in a way I wasn’t used to.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
Her smile reached her eyes. “Okay, Gabe.”
Hearing it from her felt different. Better, like she was seeing something beneath the patch and tattoos, and that thought carried me into the next quiet moment.
Seeing me.
----
Cleo POV
Gabe.
The name suited him, I wasn’t sure why that surprised me. Maybe it was because I’d only ever known him as Chains, the quiet, intimidating Vice President who looked like he’d rather fight a bear than have a conversation.
The man who somehow became Tommy’s favorite person.
The man who listened patiently whenever Skylar talked about her drawings.
The man who had spent months showing up consistently without asking for anything in return.
Now I was sitting across from him, hearing him laugh, hearing him talk, and I realized there was so much more to him than I’d seen. That made my chest ache in the best way, because it meant I’d been wrong to keep him at a distance.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he said.
I smiled. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I laughed. The corner of his mouth twitched. Success.
I was beginning to realize Gabe had a dry sense of humor hidden beneath all those muscles and tattoos. You just had to work for it.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Cleo.”
The fact that he knew I was lying made me laugh harder.
“You’re not nearly as scary as people think you are.”
His expression turned horrified. “Don’t tell anyone.”
I grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
The smile that followed was small, real, and unexpectedly beautiful.
Dinner passed far too quickly. What surprised me most wasn’t how much I enjoyed myself, it was how often the conversation drifted toward Tommy and Skylar. Not because I forced it there, but because Gabe did, but every question felt genuine, like he actually cared.
The realization settled deep inside me. He wasn’t just interested in me, he cared about my children too. That meant he wasn’t only stepping into my life; he was stepping into the part of it I guarded most carefully, and for a mother, that mattered more than I could explain.
By the time we stood to leave, I realized I hadn’t checked my phone once. Hadn’t worried. Hadn’t felt guilty. For the first time in a long time, I’d simply enjoyed myself.
Somewhere between arriving at the restaurant and hearing Gabe tell me his real name, I’d stopped feeling like I was betraying Wade.
I’d started feeling like I was simply living.
One step at a time.
----
The drive back into Creek Wood felt different. Lighter, more comfortable. The nerves from earlier had disappeared somewhere between the first beer and dessert.
I found myself smiling as I looked out the window. For once, my mind wasn’t full of bills, work, grief, or responsibilities.
For a few hours, I’d simply been Cleo. Not Mom, not a widow. Just me.
Beside me, Gabe rested one hand on the wheel and the other on the center console. He looked relaxed and comfortable, as though he’d enjoyed the evening just as much as I had.
“What?” he asked.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“Because you’re smiling at the dashboard.”
A laugh escaped me. “I had a nice time.”
His expression softened. “Yeah?”
A small smile appeared. “Me too.”
Simple, honest, and somehow it made my chest feel warm.
----
The closer we got to my house, the more aware I became that the evening was ending. I wasn’t ready for it, and that surprised me.
A few months ago, the thought of going on a date would have filled me with guilt. Now I found myself wishing for another hour, another conversation, another laugh.
Maybe that meant I was healing. Maybe it meant I was finally allowing myself to move forward.
Gabe pulled into the driveway. Warm light glowed from the living room window, Dad and Mom were waiting up.
He switched off the engine. Neither of us moved.
“I should go inside,” I said.
“You probably should.”
We didn’t move.
“Tommy’s probably convinced your dad to buy him a Harley by now,” Gabe said.
“Oh, God.”
“You’re laughing.”
“Because it’s possible.”
“Fair.”
Silence settled again, it wasn’t awkward, just full. It was the kind of silence that comes when there are still things left unsaid, and it stretched between us as the porch light warmed the step.
I looked at him, really looked at him. The man who had been patient, respectful, steady. The man who had waited for me to be ready. The man who had somehow become important without either of us noticing when it happened.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said softly.
“Thank you for coming.” The warmth in his voice made my heart stumble.
He walked me to the porch. The night air was cool, the porch light soft. We stopped at the door, neither of us eager to say goodnight.
“Goodnight, Gabe.”
Everything seemed to pause. His expression changed; he looked surprised, almost moved. Then a slow smile appeared, reaching his eyes.
“Goodnight, Cleo.”
I slipped inside, closing the door gently behind me. Leaning against it, I pressed a hand to my chest.
I was still smiling, and for the first time in a very long time, the future felt less frightening. Not easy, not certain. Just possible.
Maybe because I finally wasn’t facing it alone.
----