Chapter 8 #2
“I don’t know exactly. Like you’re already in too deep and pretending it’s an assignment.”
My jaw ticked, and I dragged a hand down my face, glasses sliding low before I pushed them back up. “She’s more than that. But she’s in danger, Alanna. Real danger.”
Her eyes softened, concern threading under the sarcasm. “Of course you had to step in.”
I let my head tilt back until the sky filled my lenses, a wash of gold pouring into violet.
Finally, I said simply, “She’s mine.” The words landed heavier than I meant them to, but I didn’t take them back.
Then, for the first time, I put a voice to my real fear.
“I’ll protect her. But I might’ve triggered something that put her in even more danger than she already was. ”
Alanna cocked her head to the side and looked at me with steady calm. “Then fix it.” She was quiet for another beat, then added, “That’s what you do. You break shit. You fix shit. And when the whole world goes to hell, you stay standing.”
My mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. “Ever the optimist.”
“No.” Her voice was soft but firm. “You just forget sometimes that you’re the good guy in your own story.”
That landed harder than I wanted it to. I glanced away, out at the trees, the horizon bleeding orange into violet.
In the silence, the last slice of sun disappeared, and the overlook dimmed, edges going soft.
A car hissed by down on the road, taillights trailing a red ribbon that was swallowed by the next bend.
When I found my voice, it was low and gritty. “This is different. If I fuck this up, there’s no do-over. Not for her.”
“Then don’t fuck it up.”
Silence stretched, filled only by the chorus of cicadas that had joined the frogs and crickets in song.
Then Alanna punched me in the arm. Not hard, but solid enough to sting.
I glanced at her, brows raised.
“And don’t make me come to Crossbend and kick your ass,” she warned, grinning now. “I know people.”
I snorted. “You know me. That’s all you’ll need.”
The grin faded into something softer, lingering. She leaned her head briefly against my shoulder, and for a few seconds, the world went still. Just the two of us, standing against the dying sun, the weight of everything else held at bay.
At that moment, I remembered exactly why I’d never let go of her, no matter what our parents wanted.
I slung my arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “Tell me what else is going on in your life. Any boys I need to flash my cut at?”
I didn’t care how old my baby sister was. I didn’t like the idea of boys anywhere near her.
Alanna snorted. “No. But if a guy catches my interest one of these days, you’ll be the last to know.”
For the next hour, we caught up on everything we’d missed in each other’s lives since the last time we’d found time to get together.
Eventually, she checked her watch and sighed. “I should get back soon.”
“Right.” I slid a look at her tires again, and she groaned before I could open my mouth.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Text me the name of a decent shop. I’ll get them done. Satisfied?”
I shrugged. “Temporarily.”
“You used to be fun,” she muttered.
“I was never fun.”
“You were when Drift took you to that lake party senior year.”
“Drift took me to a lake party so I could rewire his ride with a cigarette lighter and a coat hanger after midnight because he didn’t want Kane to know he’d stalled it doing fucking donuts. I was a mobile repair shop.”
“You got kissed that night,” she sing-songed, nudging me again.
“I got cornered by a girl who smelled like cinnamon Fireball and wanted my hoodie,” I corrected with a grimace. “I’ll spare you the details and just say that it was not something I was interested in repeating.”
Alanna laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, the sound bright enough to pull at something old inside me.
“I miss you, kid,” I admitted softly, giving her another one-armed hug.
“I hate that we meet like spies,” she murmured, the twinkle in her gray eyes turning sad. “Sneaking. Lying. I hate that Mom looks at me like I’m about to catch whatever you have if I say your name.”
“You can stop lying any time you want.”
“You know I can’t.” She swallowed, her gaze shifting toward the tree line. “Not yet.”
The yet hung there. Heavy. I didn’t push it.
“How is it with them?” I asked.
“Mom is…Mom. She makes dinner and leaves it on the stove when I get off the late shift. Dad asks about grades like they’re the only proof I’m worth the water I drink. They don’t say your name.” She glanced at me, mouth twisting. “It’s quieter,” she admitted. “But not in a better way.”
“Baby sister…” I let the nickname land soft.
She bumped my elbow with hers. “Don’t baby me.”
“Never,” I lied, with a wink.
We stood like that for a little longer, shoulder to shoulder, watching the stars brighten as the last glow of the sun disappeared.
“Tell me about her,” she asked gently.
“No,” I said automatically, then amended. “No details. I can’t. Not yet.”
“Is she scared?”
“She doesn’t show it.” That warmed something in me I didn’t recognize. “She works hard. Learns fast. Doesn’t whine when the job gets hard.”
“She sounds like she might be good for you.”
“No one is good for me,” I deflected, the response as automatic as breathing.
Alanna didn’t bother arguing. She just made a small sound that said she knew me better than I wanted to be known.
“Do you ever wish it was different?” she asked, suddenly, like the question had been burning the back of her throat. “Us. Them. All of it.”
“Every fucking day,” I answered without hesitation. “Wish Mom didn’t flinch when a Harley went by. Wish Dad could see what I do and not just what I wear. Mostly, I wish you didn’t have to hide our relationship like it's contraband.”
Her inhale caught. “Me too.”
“I also wish you had new tires,” I added, because we weren't built to sit in open wounds for long.
She barked another laugh, the pain diffusing into something she could carry. “Text me the shop. And don’t pick the one where the guy calls you ‘brother’ and pretends he’s not being overly protective because he knows you’ll kick his ass if anyone even looks at me wrong.”
I grinned. “Noted.”
We waited in comfortable silence for another few minutes, then I glanced at my watch and silently cursed our parents.
“You should go before they call. Text me when you get home.”
She nodded but didn’t move, then she added, softly, “And about the girl…”
“When it’s safe.” Although I knew I’d probably tell her more about Lark sooner than I should because some parts of me were still seventeen and wanted my little sister to hear the good things first, just in case the world tried to take them away.
She pushed off the car and wrapped her arms around me a second time. I folded her in and breathed deeply.
“Take care of yourself,” she mumbled into my shirt.
“I always do.”
She pulled back, studying me, then rose on her toes and kissed my cheek. “You’re my favorite criminal.”
“I’m not a criminal.”
“You broke into a federal database,” she sing-songed again, just to make me roll my eyes.
“I was recruited,” I reminded her, because rituals kept a family glued together when nothing else did.
She slid behind the wheel, and the sedan coughed awake.
The headlight covers were cloudy, and the passenger seat had a rip I’d offered to fix three times.
She waved once, a small silhouette framed by bad glass, then eased the car around in a slow, careful circle that made my palms itch with the urge to take the keys and drive it myself.
When she hit the lane, I walked to the edge of the overlook and watched her taillights shrink. She turned at the sign the county never replaced and disappeared behind the pines, red fading to nothing.
For a long minute, I stood still and let the dark settle. My chest loosened and then tightened again, like a fist testing its grip.
Northern Tallahassee had been a cage and a launch pad at the same time.
It gave me the itch and the tools to scratch it.
It gave me a sister worth breaking rules for.
It gave me parents who loved wrong—conditional, quiet, and always counting the cost. It gave me Kane on a porch, Drift in a race car with a broken ignition, and Edge laughing too loud at two in the morning when we got smashed on my twenty-first birthday.
It gave me the first version of myself I could live with.
Crossbend gave me everything after that.
And now Crossbend had given me her.
Lark moved inside my head like a heat signature, a steady pulse I couldn’t shake.
The feel of her mouth when I put my hands on her.
The way her breath hitched but her hands didn’t shake.
The heat under her skin when I pressed closer because I hated any distance between us.
The electric calm that slid through me when I watched her sleep, counting the rise and fall of each breath, cataloging every freckle on her skin so I could hunt the ones I hadn’t tasted yet.
Swinging my leg over my hog, I gripped the handlebars and felt the leather slide under my palm. The Harley turned over like a beast, the familiar rumbling comforting and exciting. I booted the stand and rolled out slowly so the gravel didn’t kick and catch.
The road back to Crossbend always felt longer, leaving Alanna. I didn’t like leaving her behind. I hoped, someday, she’d be riding back this direction with me. But it would likely mean leaving our parents behind for good, and I would never ask that of her.
Needing a distraction, I flipped my visor up and let the air do its work on my face as I focused on the present. On the woman waiting for me at home. The one I shouldn’t have touched but couldn’t stay away from, even if I wanted to.