Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Booker
As I walk Kolter toward Slayer and Jersey's place, a question that's been nagging at me finally spills out. “Hey, kiddo, what made you so eager for your mom and me to go on a date?”
He offers a small shrug. “I don't know... it just felt important. Like, big important.”
Maybe I'm asking for trouble, but despite his age, the kid has a wisdom that makes me want to hear more. “How do you mean, big important?”
“Like we're meant to be a family,” he says, picking up his pace until he's basically running and I have to lengthen my stride to keep up.
“Hold on, slow down,” I say, gently laying a hand on his shoulder to turn him toward me. Remembering everything he's been through, I keep my touch light so I don't startle him. “Talk to me, Kolter.”
He sniffles, looking up at me. “I need you, Booker. You rescued my mom, and you rescued me. Whenever you're around, I feel safe, like no one can ever hurt us again.”
I sink to one knee, ignoring the dirt and grass on my jeans. This kid has seen too much. His wide eyes search my face for answers. I rest a hand on his shoulder. It feels delicate, almost fragile, yet I'm sensing a deep resilience inside him.
“You're safe now, Kolter,” I reassure him, keeping my voice steady.
“No one gets past us. Not now, not ever.” He wipes his nose with his sleeve and gives a small nod, staying put and absorbing the comfort.
“You're carrying a heavy burden,” I add softly.
“But you don't have to bear it by yourself.
That's who we are. We look out for one another.”
He glances toward the bright morning sky before meeting my eyes again. “Does that mean you're part of our family now?”
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice raspy. “I suppose I am. Now let's finish walking to Slayer’s place. You've got a bike waiting for you to check over.”
A genuine grin lights up his face, sweeping away the last traces of sadness as he moves ahead with a light step. I stand and follow, struck by the sudden certainty that my life will never be the same. He practically glides forward. He isn't alone in feeling the pull linking the three of us.
The screen door squeaks open, and Kolter calls back with eager excitement. “He promised I could try sitting on it!”
I see Slayer stepping onto the porch, arms folded over his chest, offering the kid a warm smile. “I did,” Slayer states. His voice is a low rumble as he steps down to meet us. “You ready to see how it handles?”
Kolter practically vibrates. He glances at me for permission, and I just nod.
Seeing that look, that sudden spark of unadulterated joy in a kid who has seen too much anger and brutality, settles something in my chest. Determination.
That's what I'm feeling. Today, I'm going to start building that foundation that'll cement Kendall to me for good.
Slayer catches my gaze over the boy’s head and his face softens. “You and Kendall go have fun, brother,” he says, clapping a steadfast hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got the kid covered. Hell, he can even stay overnight if he wants.”
I shoot him a warning look, but it’s too late. Kolter’s eyes go wide. “I’ve never had a sleepover before,” he gleefully says, his voice trembling with excitement.
“Your mom might not be ready for that yet, buddy,” I say gently, clearing my throat.
“You two just got back together. Her agreeing to this date is a big enough step. Let's not push it. We’ll take things one day at a time and plan for more when your mom feels confident and secure. She’s still learning to trust us. ”
“Okay,” he replies, hanging his head, sounding defeated.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady.
“I didn't mean no forever. It's just about taking steps.
We're pacing this so everything stays good for your mom.
How about this? Once she's settled into the new routine, we'll make it happen.
And until then, I'm around. You're around.
We've got plenty of time for the extras.”
Kolter’s shoulders lose that slumped, beaten look. He studies my face, and I see the trust flickering back into life. “Promise?” he asks.
I lock eyes with him. “Promise. Now get going. Slayer's waiting and that bike isn't going to inspect itself.”
He brightens, that weighty air vanishing.
He turns and sprints toward the porch. I watch him go, feeling a sliver of that tension in my chest finally snap loose.
I breathe in the crisp morning air, turn, and head back toward the clubhouse to find Kendall.
She's waiting, and for the first time in years, the path forward feels clear.
I enter the clubhouse and find Kendall waiting in the corridor.
Scanning her, I take in the tight, hip-hugging jeans, the Harley tee clinging to her curves, and the biker boots planted on her feet.
She twirls with a hopeful look. “Do I look alright? Britton dropped these off earlier. She told me if I’m riding on the back of a bike, I need to look the part. ”
“You look damn fine, Vixen,” I rumble, walking closer. My hand finds the small of her back. The fabric of the shirt is soft, but the heat of her skin underneath is electric. She doesn't pull away. She leans into the touch.
“It's more than alright,” I murmur, my voice dropping an octave. “You look like you belong on the back of my bike. You look like you belong with me.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. It's not the guarded look she wore yesterday. It's real. “I'm still nervous,” she admits, her eyes dropping to my chest before flickering back up to mine. “About everything. But this? This feels right.”
Leaning down, I brush my lips against her temple. I can smell her perfume, something light and floral that cuts through the scent of old leather and stale smoke. “We take it one mile at a time. No pressure.”
I take her hand, pulling her toward the exit. The heavy steel door swings open and we step out into the bright morning. My bike is waiting, a beast of chrome and steel just begging for the open road.
“Ready?” I ask, reaching for the keys in my pocket.
When she stalls, I glance at her with my brows raised.
“I’m worried about Kolter,” she spits out.
“He was really insistent about us going on a date. What if all of this is too soon for him, for me? I don’t want to rush into anything, I don’t want him to feel as if I’m living a life that doesn’t include him. ”
I let the keys dangle from my fingers, letting the silence hang between us for a moment. She’s staring at her boots, the anxiety clearly eating at her again. I know that look. It’s the fear that if she stops holding it all together for even a second, everything will crumble.
“Hey. Look at me,” I reassure, and wait until she finally lifts her gaze to meet mine.
“Kolter isn't just a kid who needs protecting anymore. He’s tough as nails, and Slayer’s the best man for the job.
If anybody can get him to talk about his feelings it’d be him.
If something’s going on, he’ll figure it out and help Kolter through it.
You aren't abandoning him. You're just taking an hour or so to breathe. "
She chews on her bottom lip, still looking uncertain. “It just feels... selfish.”
“It's not selfish to be a person outside of being a mom,” I tell her.
“You’ve spent so long just surviving, running on adrenaline and fear.
If you don't take this time, you'll burn out.
And Kolter doesn't need a version of you that's constantly on the verge of breaking.
He needs the woman you're fighting to become.”
She exhales, a long, shaky breath that seems to carry away some of that tension. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is,” I reply, leaning in until there's hardly an inch between us. “One hour. One cup of coffee. No Syndicate, no Jerome, no running. Just you and me. Think you can handle that?”
A small, genuine smile finally breaks through the worry on her face. “I think I can.”
“Good,” I affirm, pressing a quick, firm kiss to her forehead. I shove the keys into my pocket and offer her my hand. “Then let's ride.”
Pulling my spare helmet from my cargo, I slide it over her head, and click the strap into place.
My fingers brush her jaw one last time before I swing my leg over the saddle.
The bike groans under my weight, a familiar creature of comfort.
I tap the side of my helmet, activating the comms. “Can you hear me through the link?”
She taps her own helmet, her eyes brightening when the connection clears. “Loud and clear,” she confirms, her voice sounding crisp and private in my ear.
I kick the stand up and thumb the starter.
The engine barks to life, vibrating through the frame and right up into my palms. I ease off the clutch, and we roll out from the clubhouse gravel onto the smooth asphalt of the main road.
The gates of the compound fall away behind us, and I twist the throttle.
We surge forward, the wind instantly tearing at us.
“It feels strange,” she murmurs over the line, her voice tight but losing its edge. “Going somewhere without checking over my shoulder every three seconds.”
I steer us through a long, sweeping curve, feeling her shift her weight perfectly in sync with the bike. “Get used to it,” I encourage, checking my mirrors one last time before trusting the road ahead. “Nobody’s following us.”
“I just–” She pauses, and I hear the faint static of the wind rushing past her mic. “I don't know how to turn off that part of my brain.”
“You don't have to,” I promise, leaning into the next turn. “You just have to focus on the road. Focus on this. Focus on me.”
“Okay,” she sighs, and I can hear the smile in her tone. “I'm focusing.”
The diner comes into view, a brightly lit beacon against the morning sky. It sits quietly at the edge of the county line. I downshift, the engine braking as we slow, and pull into an empty parking spot near the front door. I kill the engine, and the sudden silence rings in our ears.
“We made it,” she declares, lifting her visor.
I pull my own helmet off, looking back at her. “Yeah. We did.”