Chapter 12 #2
He exhaled through his nose, the sound low and frustrated. Of course, it would be now.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and wiped his hands on a rag. “I’ve gotta head out.”
Avery nodded, still facing the trim. “Right. Okay.”
He hesitated long enough that she finally glanced back at him. Her expression was guarded, but not cold. Just… careful. Like she wasn’t sure what version of him she was getting.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, quieter than before. “There’s still a lot to do.”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Tomorrow.”
He grabbed his jacket, pausing at the door. “Lock up after I leave.”
“I will.”
He lingered a second longer, like he might say something else, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he gave a small nod and left through the front door.
The late-day air hit him hard, cooler now, carrying the bite of evening settling in.
Rook swung a leg over his bike and started the engine, the rumble doing nothing to settle the tightness in his chest. The ride to the clubhouse was short, but every mile felt like he was putting distance between himself and something he wasn’t ready to walk away from.
By the time he parked, the sun had dipped low, throwing long shadows across the lot. The clubhouse was quiet, too late for the day shift, too early for the night crowd. He headed straight inside, boots echoing down the hall.
Stone’s office was dim except for the desk lamp casting a warm circle of light over stacks of paperwork and a half-finished bottle of water. Rook stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
Stone didn’t look up right away. He was leaning over a map spread across his desk, marking something with a thick black pen. Only when Rook stopped in front of the desk did Stone lift his gaze.
“You made it fast,” Stone said.
Rook pulled in a breath. “You said it couldn’t wait.”
Stone tapped the map with the end of his pen. “Reapers have been sniffing around the county line again.”
Rook’s jaw tightened. “Same crew?”
“Viper’s boys,” Stone said. “Couple of them got into it with locals outside La Luna last night. Nothing major, but enough to piss off the sheriff.”
Rook stepped closer, scanning the map. “They staying outside town?”
“For now.” Stone’s voice dropped, steady but edged. “Fish and Grim are still running recon. Haven’t seen them cross into our territory, but they’re circling. Testing boundaries.”
Rook exhaled through his nose. “You want me to reach out?”
Stone shook his head. “I’ll handle Viper. One last check-in before we escalate.”
He capped the pen, leaned back in his chair. “But I need you to go talk to the sheriff. Smooth things over. Make sure he knows we’re keeping our shit clean and whatever happened at La Luna isn’t on us.”
Rook nodded once. “I’ll handle it.”
“And pick two prospects to post up at La Luna for the next few nights,” Stone added. “Quiet presence. Nothing flashy. Just eyes.”
“Switchblade and Ghost,” Rook said without hesitation. “They’ll keep it tight.”
Stone nodded. “Good. If the Reapers push any closer…” His gaze sharpened. “We shut it down.”
Rook’s posture shifted, the VP settling into place. “I’ll keep my phone on.”
“You do that,” Stone said. “This isn’t nothing, Rook. Reapers don’t wander without a reason.”
A beat of silence settled between them, the kind that marked the end of club business.
Stone let the map go and really looked at him now, eyes dragging over the dust on Rook’s clothes, the paint on his arm, the tension still clinging to him like he’d carried it straight from the bakery.
“Before you get with the sheriff,” Stone’s gaze sharpened. “You were with her.”
Not a question.
Rook didn’t answer.
Stone set the pen down. “What happened?”
Rook dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping at the edge of the desk. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”
Stone snorted. “That’s a whole lot of words for you.”
Rook shot him a look, but it didn’t stick. “I shouldn’t have left. She was…we were…” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” Stone said, voice steady.
Rook leaned on the desk, shoulders tight. “I still care about her.”
Stone didn’t blink. “I know.”
“It’s not just that,” Rook said, quieter now. “I never stopped.”
Stone nodded once. “I know that too.”
Rook’s throat tightened. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
Stone leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to know. You just have to stop pretending it’s not there.”
Rook looked away, jaw working. “It’s not that simple.”
Stone huffed. “Nothing worth a damn ever is.”
Rook swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to do this right.”
Stone nodded once. “So figure it out.”
Rook huffed. “It’s not that easy.”
Stone shrugged. “You’re right. It’s harder. Means you gotta show up different than you did back then.”
Rook stared at the floor, chest aching, the weight of seven years pressing down on him.
Stone waited, steady and immovable. A wall Rook could lean on or crash into.
“You love her,” Stone said finally. “You always have. You can keep running from it, but it won’t change a damn thing.”
Rook closed his eyes.
Stone didn’t push.
“When you’re ready,” Stone said, voice low, “stop punishing yourself for who you were. Start figuring out who you want to be now.”
Rook opened his eyes — raw, unguarded for the first time in years.
And he let himself say it.
“I love her,” he whispered.
Stone nodded once. “Good. Now don’t screw it up.”