Chapter 23
Sunshine
Morning arrived quietly.
Not with alarms.
Not with doors opening too hard.
Not with bells telling everyone where they were expected to stand.
It arrived through pale sunlight spilling across the bedroom wall and the steady warmth of Remedy’s body beside mine.
For several seconds, I did not move.
I kept my eyes closed and listened.
The old house settled around us with familiar creaks. Somewhere outside, birds argued from the trees. A truck passed on the road beyond the field, its tires humming briefly before the sound faded.
Ordinary noises.
Safe noises.
I lay beneath the blanket with one hand resting against the sheet between us, close enough to feel Remedy’s warmth without touching him.
The night had not frightened me.
That realization came slowly.
I had expected fear afterward.
Shame.
Regret.
Some old voice insisting I had taken something I had not been given.
Instead, I felt still.
Tender.
A little overwhelmed.
But not afraid.
Remedy shifted beside me.
His eyes opened gradually, the confusion of sleep disappearing the moment he saw me.
“Morning.”
His voice was rough.
I smiled.
“Morning.”
He studied my face for a second longer than necessary.
“You okay?”
There was no assumption in the question.
No demand that I reassure him.
He simply wanted the truth.
“Yes.”
“Full yes?”
I laughed softly.
“Full yes.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“Good.”
I touched the edge of the blanket, suddenly shy in a way that felt almost ridiculous after everything we had shared.
“I thought I might feel different.”
“You do look different.”
I glanced at him.
“How?”
“Your hair is attacking half the pillow.”
I reached up instinctively.
He smiled.
“That was not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
His expression softened.
“You look rested.”
I looked toward the window.
“I don’t remember the last time I woke up without feeling like I needed to prepare for something.”
Remedy was quiet.
Then he reached across the small space between us and took my hand.
“You don’t have to prepare here.”
The words settled deep.
I wanted to believe them completely.
Maybe one day I would.
For now, I curled my fingers around his.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
I froze.
Remedy did too.
We looked toward the bedroom door.
Silence.
Then another creak.
Remedy sat up.
“Charlie?”
My heart jumped.
“She’s at Daisy’s.”
“I know.”
He still looked toward the door.
A second later something scraped downstairs.
Remedy released my hand, reached for his jeans, and crossed the room with the quiet speed of a man accustomed to waking in danger.
I pulled the blanket tighter around me.
Another sound came from below.
A cabinet door.
Then a low mutter.
Remedy’s shoulders dropped.
“Bishop.”
I blinked.
“How do you know?”
“He talks to appliances.”
As if confirming the diagnosis, Bishop’s voice rose from the kitchen.
“If you burn coffee in this house again, I’m throwing you away.”
Remedy closed his eyes.
I covered my mouth to stop the laugh.
“Does he have a key?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“I have asked that question repeatedly.”
He pulled on a shirt and looked back at me.
“You can stay here.”
“I don’t think that would make this less awkward.”
“You haven’t met Bishop before breakfast.”
“I have.”
“Not after he’s decided something interesting happened.”
I stared at him.
“Does he know?”
“He knows everything.”
“That is deeply unsettling.”
“Yes.”
Remedy crossed back toward the bed and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll remove him.”
“You say that like a medical procedure.”
“It may become one.”
He left the room.
I listened to his footsteps descend the stairs.
Then Bishop said, “Morning.”
Remedy answered, “Leave.”
“I brought coffee.”
“Still leave.”
“And Daisy called.”
That changed everything.
I got out of bed.
By the time I reached the kitchen, dressed in yesterday’s clothes with my hair tied back as neatly as possible, Bishop had claimed a chair at the table and placed three coffees in front of him like evidence.
He looked up.
His face remained completely neutral.
“Morning, Sunshine.”
“Morning.”
Remedy stood at the counter, glaring at him.
Bishop slid one cup toward me.
“I brought yours the way you like it.”
I accepted it cautiously.
“Thank you.”
Remedy folded his arms.
“You are encouraging him.”
“I am drinking coffee.”
“Same thing.”
Bishop leaned back.
“Daisy said Charlie is awake.”
Remedy’s attention sharpened.
“What happened?”
“She ate two pancakes, one strawberry, and half of Mr. Pickles’s breakfast.”
“What does that mean?”
“No one knows.”
“Did she sleep?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Bishop took a drink.
“She got up at three because the rock in her backpack needed water.”
I looked away quickly.
Remedy pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I knew I should have checked the bag again.”
“She’s fine,” Bishop said. “Daisy said they’re going to the farmer’s market before coming back.”
“She was supposed to bring her home after breakfast.”
“She changed the plan.”
“She did not tell me.”
“She told me.”
“That is not the same.”
Bishop looked toward me.
“He worries professionally.”
“I noticed.”
Remedy picked up his phone.
Before he could call, it rang.
Daisy.
He answered immediately.
“Why are you taking her to the farmer’s market?”
Daisy’s voice carried clearly through the kitchen.
“Good morning to you too.”
“You said after breakfast.”
“She asked for peaches.”
“She asks for a motorcycle every Thursday.”
“Peaches are easier.”
“Daisy.”
Charlie’s voice suddenly appeared in the background.
“Daddy!”
Remedy’s entire face changed.
He switched to video.
Charlie filled the screen at an angle, curls wild from sleep, Mr. Pickles pressed against one cheek.
“Hi, Bug.”
“We’re getting peaches.”
“I heard.”
“And a honey.”
“Some honey.”
“A honey.”
Daisy corrected from somewhere nearby.
“One jar.”
Charlie nodded.
“A honey jar.”
Remedy sat at the table.
“You have fun?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Sleepover.”
“What happened at the sleepover?”
Charlie looked confused by the obvious question.
“We slept.”
Bishop turned away, coughing into his fist.
Remedy ignored him.
“Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yes.”
“Did Miss Daisy help?”
“No.”
Daisy’s voice cut in.
“Yes.”
Charlie considered this.
“She watched.”
“Close enough.”
Charlie squinted at the screen.
“Sunshine there?”
My chest tightened.
Remedy angled the phone toward me.
I waved.
“Morning.”
Charlie smiled so brightly that something inside me gave way.
“Hi, Sunshine.”
“Did Mr. Pickles sleep well?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He was watching.”
“Watching what?”
Charlie lowered her voice.
“The dark.”
I looked toward Remedy.
He had gone very still.
“Was the dark scary?” I asked.
Charlie thought about it.
“A little.”
“Did Miss Daisy help?”
“She put the hall light.”
“That was a good idea.”
Charlie nodded.
“Mr. Pickles is brave.”
“He is.”
“So am I.”
“Yes, you are.”
The certainty of the answer made her grin.
Then she looked behind the phone.
“Peaches!”
The call ended almost immediately as she ran toward something Daisy had found.
Remedy stared at the blank screen.
“She didn’t ask to come home.”
Bishop lifted one eyebrow.
“That is generally considered a sign she feels secure.”
“I know.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m not.”
“You look disappointed.”
“I said I’m not.”
I sipped my coffee.
Remedy glanced toward me.
“She asked for you.”
“She does that.”
“Yes.”
The way he said it made the simple fact feel larger.
Bishop stood.
“I should go.”
Remedy looked suspicious.
“Why?”
“I got what I came for.”
“You came to spy.”
“I came to bring coffee.”
“You stayed to spy.”
Bishop picked up his cup.
“Two things can be true.”
At the doorway, he paused.
“Cipher called church for nine.”
Remedy’s expression changed immediately.
“Why?”
“He found something.”
The warmth of the morning receded slightly.
“What kind of something?” I asked.
Bishop looked at me.
“Order.”
One word.
Enough.
Remedy stood.
“Did he say what?”
“No. Only that he wanted everyone there before discussing it.”
Bishop left.
The kitchen fell quiet.
I stared at my coffee.
The house no longer felt entirely separate from the world outside.
Maybe it never had been.
Remedy came closer.
“You don’t have to go.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Sunshine.”
“If it’s about the Order, I need to hear it.”
“You need to choose whether you hear it.”
“I just did.”
He studied me.
Not to challenge.
To make sure.
“I’m going,” I said again.
He nodded.
“All right.”
The gentleness of his acceptance mattered.
No permission.
No refusal.
Only respect.
Church had always felt different from the rest of the clubhouse.
The building could hold children, laughter, meals, arguments, and music, but the room behind the reinforced door carried another history. The long table bore knife marks, scorch marks, water stains, and the dents of years of decisions made by men who knew some choices could not be undone afterward.
I had never attended a formal meeting inside it.
Women were not usually invited unless the matter directly involved them.
Today, I sat between Daisy and Lark while the patched brothers gathered around the table.
Remedy remained across from me.
Not beside me.
I understood why.
Inside church he was the medic.
I was not Charlie’s Sunshine or the woman who had slept in his bed.
I was a survivor with information the club might need.
Cipher connected a laptop to the monitor mounted on the far wall.
Toxic stood at the head of the table.
Steel sat to his right, arms folded.
Gage leaned against the wall.
Knight occupied the darkest corner.
Mace had brought coffee and something wrapped in foil that smelled like bacon.
Bishop closed the door.
The room settled.
Cipher placed both hands against the edge of the table.
“Three nights ago, one of our passive search programs flagged a property transfer.”
A map appeared on the screen.
North Carolina.
Farther inland than Blackwater Falls.
A rural section marked by forests, farmland, and two-lane roads.
“This land was purchased eighteen months ago by a nonprofit called Covenant Agricultural Renewal.”
Mace unwrapped the foil.
“That sounds fake.”
“It is,” Cipher said.
“Most nonprofits sound fake.”
Toxic looked at him.
“Food stays closed.”
Mace reluctantly covered it.
Cipher continued.