Chapter 14
North
Laughter’s already bouncing off the walls of the Blacktope Blood when I settle into my usual spot near the back. Colt’s halfway through a story about a coyote chasing him down a dirt road when he was stoned off his ass on gummies.
“Swear to God,” he grins, slapping the table, “I thought it was the Grim Reaper.”
Soul snorts into his beer. “You’re scared of a mutt with mange, but not of a cartel shootout. That’s some impressive logic.”
Colt points his bottle at him. “Cartel dudes don’t froth at the mouth.”
“Neither do coyotes,” Tornado chimes in. “Unless they’re high on your stash.”
Everyone cracks up.
The room’s warm, alive with noise and scent, leather, grease, hops, and smoke. My brothers are loud, unruly, and occasionally one step from feral, but right now, they’re exactly what this place should feel like.
Family.
My eyes drift to the kitchen, to her. Standing there in that flowery blue dress, and a nervous smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
The girls are huddled around her, making pancakes and teasing each other like sisters. But she’s fidgeting. That smile’s plastered on like war paint. I tilt my head slightly.
She catches my eye. Hesitates then smiles back, tight, thin.
Yeah, fake.
With two fingers, I motion her over.
She shakes her head, quick and small, like she thinks I’ll miss it.
Wrong move, Firefly.
I cock a brow, slow and smug.
Her lips part, caught.
Win.
I don’t push it. Not yet. I break eye contact, leaning back as Iron pulls out a cigar and waves it dramatically like he’s a fucking magician. “Anyone seen Rook?” He asks. “He left the garage early and hasn’t answered his damn phone.”
“He’s probably buried under that ’69 rebuild,” Colt mutters. “Told him it was cursed. Bet the transmission’s eaten him alive.”
“Should we light a candle?” Tornado deadpans. “Hold a vigil?”
“Shut up,” I grunt, smirking. “He’s probably balls deep in grease. Or someone.”
Iron huffs. “We got that arms drop Tuesday. I want him briefed before we go.”
“Speaking of which…” Soul shifts, more serious now. “We tightening routes after last month’s tail?”
I nod. “Yeah. We’ll add two more spots to throw off heat. Ghost will trail behind with another truck. If they’re dumb enough to follow, we’ll know.”
“Sounds good,” Iron says, tapping ash into a tray. “What about the Iowa pricks?”
“Handled,” I say flatly.
Colt whistles low. “That kind of handled or North-handled?”
I shoot him a look. “That we-don’t-speak-of-it-again handled.”
He grins. “Got it. Classic murder-vibes only.”
I shrug. “You want a different kind of party, go join the Chamber of Commerce.”
More laughter. Tornado tips his beer toward me. “Happy birthday, Prez.”
I shake my head. “Don’t start.”
“Fuck you.” He laughs. “You didn’t think you’d get away with it this year, did you?”
“Every year, I hope.”
Iron raises his glass too. “To the man who built this place better than anyone could have. Even if he’s a moody bastard.”
I roll my eyes but clink the bottle anyway.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement. Nyxa’s finally coming out of the kitchen, Eva giving her a nudge that’s probably got her halfway to blushing. I don’t look at her again but I feel her.
The sun’s climbing higher, casting a lazy golden hue across the yard. It smells like smoke, meat, motor oil, and summer, all things that settle in my bones like home.
“Come on, Prez,” Rook says, tipping his bottle toward me. “You’re what now—thirty-three?”
I take a swig of my beer, then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Forty.”
The table goes dead silent.
Then Soul barks out a laugh and nearly chokes on his burger. “Shut the fuck up, you are not.”
“No way,” Colt mutters. “Forty?! You’re older than my damn uncle.”
Iron squints. “He’s lying. Look at him: no gray, no gut, and he still moves like he’s got a score to settle every damn day.”
“What’s your secret, Prez?” Rook asks, chin propped on his knuckles. “Kale smoothies? Goji berries?”
I lean back in the chair, stretching my legs out with a satisfied grunt. “Eating pussy for breakfast.”
The table explodes with howling laughter.
Colt drops his fork. “Fucking knew it!”
Soul whistles. “Damn, that’s the breakfast of champions right there.”
“And that’s why his skin’s still tight,” Iron adds with a smirk. “Collagen replenishment, baby.”
I shake my head, but my lips twitch. Can’t help it.
I glance at Nyxa out of the corner of my eye, cheeks redder than the coals in the barbecue. She’s got a death grip on her fork and looks like she wants to either melt into the chair or stab me with it.
Cute.
She’s sitting beside me, tucked into the curve of my arm like always, plate barely touched. Her smile’s there, but it’s thinner now. Eyes downcast.
“Something wrong?” I murmur against her temple, low enough that the others don’t hear.
She blinks fast. “No. Just a bit tired.”
Lie.
But she leans up, presses a soft kiss to my cheek, and slips from the bench before I can call her out on it.
I watch her disappear toward the tables.
“She kissed you like she was saying goodbye,” Soul drawls from across the picnic table.
I arch a brow. “The fuck does that mean?”
He sips his beer with a grin. “Means you’re in trouble, Prez.”
I grunt but don’t argue. Doesn’t feel like a fight, feels more like something’s simmering under her skin. Something she doesn’t know how to say.
Not yet.
Around midday the girls are over by the barbecue, seasoning steaks like a damn army unit.
Tornado’s already on his third beer, shirt half unbuttoned, sunglasses on like he’s at the beach.
Prospects are tripping over themselves trying to help, and one takes a nosedive over a bench, sending a plate of hotdog buns flying.
Colt doubles over laughing. “That’s it, someone cut his patch out of a cereal box.”
I shake my head, grinning, and finish my drink. The weight in my chest’s been there for so long I almost don’t notice when it’s gone. For once, my mind’s not spinning with numbers, shipments, safety protocols, enemies in the dark.
For once, I feel… peaceful.
The grill sizzles when I toss on a few ribeyes. Smoke curls up, blending with the music pumping low from the speakers, some gritty old rock track that vibrates down to the boots, and then I hear it. The laughter. Soft and pure and wrapped in something I haven’t heard from her before.
Joy.
I glance up and there she is. Barefoot on the grass, spinning slowly with two toddlers holding each of her hands, letting them lead her in a clumsy little dance to the music. Her flowery dress billows around her knees, and the way her head tips back when she laughs.
Fuck me.
I don’t think she even knows what she looks like right now. No fear or hesitation, just light. Like something cracked open and let the sun pour out of her.
And that’s when it hits me. A truth I’ve been dodging since the second I saw her wrapped in that damn towel back at the hotel. She doesn’t belong behind locked doors. She belongs on a stage. In a studio, spinning, moving, free.
I blink, and my heart gives one heavy, unfamiliar beat.
“North?” Iron calls out, throwing a pack of sausages toward me.
I catch it without taking my eyes off her.
And I can’t help but think that maybe it’s time I give her more than safety. Maybe it’s time I give her back to herself.
I flip the steaks one last time and smirk to myself, satisfied.
Then I spot Iron, leaned against the railing with a smug-ass grin plastered on his face, the kind that makes me want to bury him in the pit instead of the burgers.
“What?” I bark without looking at him, already knowing he’s up to no good.
He strolls over, eyes dancing with amusement. “She wants to work?”
“She told you?” I arch a brow.
“Nope. You just did.” He grins like a fucking Cheshire cat. “In the hood or out?”
I grunt, flipping a burger and ignoring the question.
“You trust her enough to let her out alone?” he presses.
The meat sizzles but the question lands harder than I expect.
Do I?
Not just because she’s mine, not in a romantic hearts-and-roses kind of way, but because she’s under my roof, my protection. My responsibility.
Fuck.
“I don’t know,” I admit through my teeth.
Iron lets out a low whistle, claps me on the shoulder. “Man... you're in so much trouble.”
“For what?” I snap, already annoyed.
But the bastard just walks away, laughing like he knows something I don’t.
I shake my head, going back to the grill when I hear soft steps behind me. Vera. Holding a lemonade and looking like she’s been chewing on something for too long.
“Spit it out,” I mutter.
“You talk to her?” she asks, almost careful.
“About?”
She exhales like I’m the dumbest man alive. “About it being your birthday.”
I frown. “What about it?”
“She didn’t know, North.” Her voice is soft but sure. “She found out from us. You have any idea what that feels like? Finding out from someone else that your man’s birthday is today?”
I open my mouth. Then shut it.
Shit.
The realization hits like a crowbar to the gut. “I’m not her man, Eva.”
“Yeah, sure.” She scoffs. “That’s why you don’t look for us to cook, clean, do laundry, not that we’re complaining about it, nor to put up a show for you.” She grins at me. “I bet you haven’t touched any other woman either.”
“Eva…”
“I know, you’re right, but that possessive look, Prez, tells more than you want to admit.” She moves away leaving me alone with her fucking words.
I wipe my hands on a towel, toss it on the table, and stride across the lawn, cutting through the chatter and laughter until I spot her.
Sitting under the gazebo, sipping iced tea, smiling too sweetly. Too fake.
“Come with me,” I say, voice low but firm.
She follows me a few steps away from the crowd, arms crossed.
“You mad at me?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Why should I be?”
Bullshit.
“Firefly…” I growl.
“Rule one,” she murmurs. “Don’t lie. I know.”
She lowers her eyes and it guts me.
I rub my jaw. “Look, Nyxa. I forgot. I don’t make a thing out of this day.
Never have. Everyone else knows because it spread years ago.
I didn’t tell you… not ’cause I didn’t want to.
I just…forgot.” It sounds lame even to my ears.
She scoffs, turns her face away like that’ll hide how tight her jaw is.
“I’ve gotten used to having you around, alright?
Part of the family. Didn’t even think about it. ”
“Am I?” she asks, voice soft but steady. “Part of the family?”
I don’t hesitate. “You can bet your sweet ass you are, Firefly.”
And fuck me, that’s the truth.
Her shoulders ease a little, and she looks back up at me. “I didn’t get you a gift.”
“Who fucking cares?” I bark out a laugh and drape my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into my side. “You’re here. That’s more than enough.”
She laughs. Head tossed back, eyes lit up like I’ve handed her the world and damn it if the sound doesn’t punch a hole straight through my chest.
I glance down at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Am I still in trouble?”
She smirks. “Only a little.”
That laugh again, rich, unfiltered, real.
And I don’t say it out loud, but right then? It feels like the best fucking birthday gift I’ve ever had.