Chapter 8
SYVANNAH
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the light. Warm, gold, soft enough to make me believe for a moment that everything was just a nightmare. Then I move, and the ache in my muscles proves it wasn’t.
My throat is dry, my skin clammy, my head pounding behind my eyes. But I’m still breathing and that’s something.
I shift slightly, wincing at the pull in my ribs. The blanket slides down, and I see Peanut curled up at the end of the bed, tiny paws twitching in a dream. A low rumble of a purr fills the quiet.
There’s a mug of coffee on the nightstand. Steam still curls from it. I blink at it, then glance at the figure sitting on the edge of the chair beside the bed.
Tiny.
His elbows rest on his knees, his head tilted toward the floor, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, and his hands still stained with grease and blood. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
When he senses me move, he looks up. The relief in his eyes is so intense it hurts to see.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey,” I whisper back. My voice sounds rough but alive. “How long have you been sitting there?”
He shrugs. “Long enough to make bad coffee.”
I glance at the mug and smile weakly. “You made that for me?”
“Didn’t trust anyone else not to screw it up.”
“Right. Because caffeine quality’s top priority after an overdose.”
He huffs out a short laugh, the sound low and warm. “I see sarcasm survived.”
“Barely.” I take a slow sip. It’s bitter, strong, and too hot. Perfect. “You know, you could’ve gone to bed.”
“Could’ve,” he says. “But didn’t.”
I set the mug down and meet his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to babysit me.”
“I wasn’t,” he says. “I just didn’t want you waking up alone.”
The words land somewhere deep, heavy, and gentle all at once. I nod, my throat tightening. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t start that again.”
Peanut stirs, stretches, and pads up toward us. She jumps onto his lap, tail flicking across his chest, then grabs a piece of toast from his plate on the side table and bolts.
“Hey!” Tiny protests, laughing for real now.
I can’t help it. I laugh, too. The sound feels foreign, rusty. “Guess she’s yours, alright.”
He leans back, eyes narrowing playfully. “You taught her that.”
“I taught her class,” I smirk. “You taught her crime.”
“She’s got taste. That’s my breakfast.”
“You’ve got six more slices in the kitchen.”
He smirks. “You gonna make me go get ‘em?”
“Depends. You gonna fight your own cat for food?” That earns a soft chuckle, and something inside me loosens for the first time in days.
The sunlight shifts, falling across Tiny’s face. The kind of light that makes even tough men look human. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I went twelve rounds with my own bad decisions.”
He studies me, unreadable. “You scared me, Syv.”
“I scared myself,” I admit.
“I thought I lost you.”
I look down at my hands. The tremor’s still there, faint but real. “You almost did.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Just sits there, watching me breathe.
Finally, I say what’s been clawing at me since I woke up. “I need to do this. For me.”
His brow furrows. “Do what?”
“Stay clean.”
He nods slowly. “Good.”
“No, I mean…” I draw in a breath. “Not for you. Not because I owe you, or because the club needs me stable, or because I want to prove something. I have to do it for myself. If I don’t, I’ll lose myself all over again.”
He doesn’t interrupt; he just lets me speak. I take another sip of coffee, which now tastes stronger. “I spent years thinking pain was the only thing that made me real. Then I realized numb isn’t living either.”
His voice softens. “So what is?”
I meet his eyes. “Maybe this. Sitting here. Talking. Breathing. Watching your cat steal your breakfast.”
He laughs again, shaking his head. “She’s an opportunist.” Tiny looks at Peanut, who is thoroughly enjoying her toast at the edge of the bed. She gazes up at him, twitches her whiskers, then keeps eating.
“Wonder where she gets it from.”
He smirks, but there’s something softer beneath it. Pride, maybe, or guilt hidden behind humor. “If you’re looking for a sponsor, I can make sure Pearl stays a hundred feet away from you.”
“Pearl’s not the problem.”
“She’s part of it.”
“She’s just…” I take a deep breath. “What happens when people stop fighting their own ghosts?”
He studies me, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “And you?”
“I’m still fighting,” I admit softly.
He nods once. “Good. Don’t stop.”
The silence that follows isn’t heavy this time, it’s peaceful. He reaches for his mug and brushes my fingers by accident. Neither of us moves. The touch lingers, light but electric.
“You look better,” he says quietly.
“Better than dying?”
He gives a half-smile. “Yeah. That.”
“I feel better,” I admit. “Not fixed. Just… breathing.”
“That’s enough for today.”
“Yeah.”
We sit quietly again, a peace that feels earned.
Outside, I hear the brothers moving around.
Trigger shouting for Red to fix the comms, Dagger laughing with Bones over something silly, Blayze talking to Monica on speakerphone.
The sounds of life fill the compound once more. It’s not chaos. It’s comfort.
Tiny watches the window, his hand resting on his thigh, fingers twitching like he’s still wound too tight to relax. I reach out and place my hand over his.
“Thank you for staying,” I whisper.
He looks at me like he’s trying not to say something he shouldn’t. “Wasn’t going anywhere.”
“You keep saying that.” I tease softly.
“Because it’s true.” The words sit between us, thick and warm, heavy with everything we haven’t said.
“Tiny?”
“Yeah?”
I swallow hard. “Do you ever… forget? Even for a second?”
His jaw tightens. “No. Not the things that matter.”
“Like what?”
He turns toward me fully, eyes locking on mine. “Like the way someone looks when you almost lose them.”
My chest goes tight. “You didn’t.”
“Not for lack of trying.” We stare at each other for a long moment. The air hums with something both tense and tender. His eyes drift to my mouth before he looks away.
Peanut jumps back onto the bed, tail swishing through the space between us, and the spell breaks.
“Cockblocker,” Tiny mutters, deadpan.
I laugh too loud, too real. “Maybe she’s saving you from yourself.”
He grins, slow and crooked. “Wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s tried.”
“You saying you need saving?”
He leans in just enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Not from you.”
The space between us lessens. My heart pounds. Every cell in my body yells, don’t ruin this, but the ache is overwhelming.
When he kisses me, it’s barely there at first. Warm, tentative, uncertain. His lips taste like coffee and smoke, mine like salt and something sweeter I can’t name.
He pulls back too soon, eyes searching mine like he’s afraid he crossed a line. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Don’t be.” My voice is low, unsteady. “Please don’t be.”
He pauses for a breath, then gently cups my jaw with one hand. His thumb slowly traces my lip with reverence. I can feel the restraint trembling through him.
“You sure?” Tiny whispers.
“Yes.” He kisses me again, deeper this time. Not rough, not demanding, just genuine. The kind of kiss that feels like a promise wrapped in an apology.
When he finally pulls away, his forehead presses against mine. We are both breathing too quickly.
“Guess Peanut didn’t save me after all,” he says, voice rough with humor that barely covers the tremor underneath.
I smile, brushing my thumb over the scar on his jaw. “Maybe she just picked her timing.”
He chuckles, soft and low, then straightens. “We should probably join the others before they start rumors.”
“Too late,” I whisper. “Trigger gossips worse than the Bunnies.”
That makes him laugh again, genuinely laugh, and the sound fills the room like sunlight. As he stands, I take his hand. “Tiny?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For more than just staying.”
He squeezes my fingers once before letting go. “You don’t owe me thanks, Syv. You owe yourself a chance.”
He leaves the door open behind him, and light streams in. Peanut crawls back onto my lap, purring as if she knows the world just shifted on its axis.
I sip my warm coffee and whisper into the quiet, “For me, not him.” I thumb open my phone, type a three-word text to Nadia, I’m checking in, and set a reminder for noon. Not a promise to Tiny, but a promise to myself. But when I touch my swollen lips, I’m not so sure.
The clubhouse smells of coffee and bacon, the unholy trinity that somehow feels like home here. By the time I make it out there, the common room is already loud.
I head into the kitchen to avoid the chaos for a few more minutes.
Flipping on the light switch, I unlock the pantry door and step inside.
I’m looking for some bread to make toast when Peanut meows loudly from the top of the shelf, like I disturbed her nap time.
She gives me an exaggerated yawn before climbing to her feet.
“How did you…?” I blink up at her.
Peanut chirps, curling her tail neatly around her paws like this is normal.
Sadie walks in, stopping dead in her tracks. Peanut has unleashed hell on some of the club bunnies. “I swear that cat isn’t a cat. She’s a demon with fur.”
Peanut leaps down, making Sadie jump. She pushes open a cabinet door that should not open from the inside, and struts out like she’s unveiling a magic trick.
I laugh despite myself. “Tiny’s going to lose his mind when she figures out how to hot-wire his bike.”
Sadie smirks. “I give her a week.”
Bones and Dagger are arguing over who tuned the radio to the wrong station. Trigger’s at the table, counting cash as if it insulted him. Red’s glued to his laptop with his son on his hip, and Torch is teaching Peanut to high-five with a strip of bacon, which is a crime, and I tell him so.
“She’s a growing girl,” Torch counters, eyes innocent. “Needs protein.”