Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
KARINA
I don't sleep.
I’ve tried to call Ty, AKA Chet Morgan, multiple times but his phone is switched off. I leave him a message and a text, saying I need to see him in person. I want him to look me in the eye and tell me it was all a scam.
I lie in bed with Dolly curled against my side and stare at the ceiling, replaying every moment. Every lie. Each time Clay gazed at me with those intense eyes, while keeping secrets that could destroy my life.
My mom was right. I'm too gullible, too desperate to be liked. I'm exactly the screwup they always thought I was. Dolly whines and licks my chin. I scratch behind her ear.
“At least you're honest,” I tell her. “When you hate someone, you growl at them. No games.”
She huffs in agreement.
I spent my whole life waiting for someone to believe in me. Ty believed in me, so I ignored the red flags. Clay believed in me, so I fell into his arms without asking questions. I handed over my trust like it was worthless, because deep down, I thought I was worthless.
But I'm not. I built that event. I charmed those vendors and recruited those volunteers. That was me, nobody else. And I'll be damned if I let it fall apart because of two men who lied to me.
I get out of bed. Shower. Put on my favorite jeans and a bright pink blazer. Dolly watches me with a surprised expression.
“We’re going to face this. Whatever's waiting for me at that community center, I'm going to handle it.”
She wags her tail. Good enough.
The drive feels endless. I rehearse how I’ll confront Ty and what I'll say to the volunteers. I'm sorry. The charity was a fraud. I didn't know. I practice the words until they stop catching in my throat.
The parking lot is full when I arrive. That's strange. I wasn't expecting anyone until ten. My stomach churns as I park, pick Dolly up, and walk toward the entrance.
The doors are propped open. I hear music inside. Voices. Laughter.
What the hell?
I step through the entrance and freeze.
The event is up and running.
Heart-shaped balloons are clustered in corners, with an arch over the buffet table.
Volunteers are at every station, greeting visitors, offering hugs, and handing out pamphlets about mental health resources.
There’s a photographer snapping photos and a journalist interviewing the community center’s manager.
Some of the volunteers are wearing leather cuts. It’s the Ridge Renegades, every one of them. Brick is at the welcome table, looking wildly out of place with a heart-shaped sticker on his cheek. Viper is manning a donation box, scowling at anyone who walks past without contributing.
The banner above the main stage doesn't say Hugs for Hearts anymore. It says Hugs for Hartford.
I don't understand any of this.
Clay's standing near the entrance, holding a hand-lettered sign that reads: Free Hugs from A Grumpy Biker.
Our eyes meet.
He doesn't smile. His expression is serious, uncertain, and he looks like he hasn't slept either. I walk toward him, my legs numb.
“What is this?” My voice comes out hoarse.
“It's your Valentine’s Day event.” He sets down the sign. “Rebranded. New organization, donations transferred for a legitimate cause.”
“I don't—how—”
“Ty's in custody. Or Chet Morgan is… He confessed everything last night. The donations are secured and most of the money is recoverable. We contacted every donor last night and this morning. They know the truth, and they still want to support the cause.”
“You did all this?”
“The club did. Viper traced the money. Brick handled the setup.” He pauses. “I made some calls.”
Around us, the bikers are manning hug stations with visitors beginning to stream in, and the event I built is running smoothly without me. Dolly is looking up at Clay, wagging her little tail.
Traitor.
“I came here to apologize and cancel everything.”
“I know.”
“But you… you saved it.”
Clay steps closer. “No. The event, the future of the cause, that's all yours. You built this, Karina. You recruited the volunteers and made people believe in something good.”
Tears spill down my cheeks and I wipe them away, setting Dolly on the floor.
Clay clears his throat. “I should have trusted you with the truth from the beginning. I told myself I was protecting you, but that's bullshit. I was scared… scared you'd look at me like…” He swallows. “Like you did yesterday.”
“Clay—”
“My whole life, I've handled things for people. Told myself I knew better.” His voice is rough. “My mom, my brothers, now you. I thought protecting people meant keeping them in the dark. But all I did was take away your chance to be strong.”
I stare at him. This huge, terrifying, grumpy man stands before me, vulnerable.
“You hurt me,” I say.
“I know.”
“You lied to me.”
“I did.”
“If you ever do it again, I'll set Dolly on you.”
His mouth twitches and he nods.
“And you have to come to dinner with my family. My mom is going to hate you.”
“Okay.”
I take a shaky breath. “I missed you. Last night was the worst night of my life, and all I wanted was you, and I hated that I wanted you because you're the one who hurt me.”
Clay closes the distance between us. His hands come up to stroke my face, those huge, rough hands that I've been dreaming about.
“I love you,” he says. “I know it's fast. I know I don't deserve—”
I kiss him.
It's not gentle or sweet; it's messy and desperate. His arms wrap around me and sweep me off my feet. I hold onto his shoulders and pour everything into the kiss; all the hurt and the love I can't seem to stop feeling.
When we break apart, I'm breathless.
“I love you too,” I say. “You overprotective idiot.”
He laughs. Actually laughs, that rare sound that transforms his face. “You know that you’re the first person who’s ever called me an idiot and lived?”
I smile. “I can do it again if it turns you on. Now put me down. We have an event to run.”
The event is a hit.
By mid-afternoon, we've raised more money than the original goal.
People line up at the hug stations. The bikers turn out to be surprisingly good huggers.
Clay stays at station three for two hours.
He hugs an elderly man who tells him about his late wife, and a single dad with a toddler on his hip.
He's gruff and clearly uncomfortable, but he doesn't leave.
He holds each person for the full twenty seconds, just like I taught him.
Tania calls at four o'clock, demanding a full update. I give her the short version while hiding in the storage room.
“So let me get this straight,” she says. “Your boss was a con artist, your biker boyfriend knew and didn't tell you, you broke up with him, and now he's running a hugging event to win you back?”
“Basically… yes.”
“This is the most romantic thing I've ever heard…”
The last visitor leaves at six. The volunteers start breaking down the stations, packing up the leftover stickers and stress balls. Brick claps his hands together, a sound that makes Dolly start barking.
“Good event, little mama.”
“Thanks for helping.”
“Thank the Prez.” He grins. “He had us here at six in the morning. Never seen him work that hard for anything.”
I find Clay by the door, watching the cleanup with his arms crossed. He looks exhausted. There are shadows under his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there this morning.
“Hey,” I say.
He turns. “Hey.”
“You look tired.”
“Thanks.”
“When did you last sleep?”
He shrugs. “Doesn't matter.”
“Clay.”
“I had things to do.” His eyes search my face. “You okay?”
I take his hand. “Yes, I am now. Come home with me.”
His eyebrows rise. “Your place?”
I squeeze his fingers. “My place. Dolly's all barked out. I'm exhausted. And you look like you're about to fall over."
“I'm fine.”
“You're a terrible liar.” I tug his hand. “Come on, grumpy. I'll order pizza.”
When we’re at my place, Clay is huge in my cozy space. When he sits on my secondhand couch, he's surrounded by pink throw pillows and stacks of romance novels. Completely out of place.
I love it.
Dolly circles him three times. Then she does something she's never done before: jumps onto the couch and curls against his thigh.
I shake my head. “I can’t believe it.”
Clay scratches behind her ear and she melts into him. “She's got good taste in men.”
I sink down beside him. His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close. Dolly sprawls across both our laps like she owns us.
“I meant what I said at the event,” he says quietly. “I love you. I don't want to spend another night without you.”
“We only spent last night apart.”
“Worst damn night of my life. Move in with me. Or I'll move in with you. I don't care where, as long as we're together.”
“Yeah? But I have conditions. If I move in with you, I’ll bring my stuff. Including all the throw pillows and my squishy armchair. And we paint your bathroom pink.”
He groans, but he’s grinning. “Karina—”
“And twinkle lights in the bedroom.”
“You're pushing it.”
I wink at him. “But… you love me.”
He sighs, but he's still smiling. “Fine. Pink. Pillows. Twinkle lights. Anything else?”
“Dolly gets her own memory foam bed.”
He looks at the dog snoring across our laps. “She's already claimed my side of the couch.”
“Deal with it.”
He laughs and pulls me closer, pressing his lips to my cheek.
The pizza arrives and we eat on the couch with Dolly begging for crusts.
Clay pretends to disapprove while sneaking her bites when he thinks I'm not looking.
It's not exactly a candlelit Valentine's dinner, but I wouldn't trade it for the fanciest restaurant in the world.
Later, we watch a movie together and he kisses me softly.
I smile against his chest. “Happy Valentine's Day, Clay.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, cupcake.”