51. Rae
51
RAE
"I can't believe this is real." Maddie slides her palms into the back pockets of her jeans, shoulders rising with a sigh. "It's not like Daddy was always president, but I guess when he took over, I assumed it would be the grave that made him quit."
“Well, I’m glad that wasn’t the reason,” I deadpan, checking my pockets for everything I need. Cards, keys, phone—check. “Am I forgetting something?”
She chuckles, dragging her gaze from where Tyke climbs astride his bike. The worn leather of his vest is freshly conditioned, the black a little darker. But it can't erase the one small rectangle that isn't as weathered as the rest—the space where his President badge sat for so many years.
“Other than this.” Maddie lifts the gleaming new helmet from the table and hands it to me. “Nope.” She collects hers as well and leads us toward the garage. “You nervous?”
"What do you think?" I've known this day is coming for weeks, and I still struggle to fathom its reality.
We’re heading out to pick up a new bike from the dealership. My new bike.
“You’ll be fine,” Mads assures as we reach Tyke’s position before the open roller doors. “Remember to breathe.”
It's been her mantra since her uncle took her before Christmas—so much so that she had it inked along her forearm a few weeks back.
I fill my lungs, locking gazes with the man who quietly waits on me to get my shit together. As though that job ever stops. “Hey.”
"You sure you got everything?" He hitches an eyebrow, his tone teasing.
"If we get there and I'm missing something crucial, I blame you."
“Blame Digger.” He chuckles. “He’s the reason you’re runnin’ late today, not me.”
"Yeah, well, he had to make up for not coming along somehow." I get it. They have club business to take care of, but I hoped to ride home with both my men by my side. "Anyway. It would have been quicker if I'd remembered where I'd left these." I lift the gloves I found behind the bar—stashed there by whoever cleaned up last night. It still feels so surreal.
Ask me what I saw myself doing a year ago, and playing house with two broody bikers would not have been on my bingo card.
Tyke presses the starter on his bike, bringing the rumbling engine to life as Maddie kicks hers over, adding to the echoing noise that reverberates off the steel garage. I tug my helmet over my head, relishing the smell of new, untouched liner, and slip the quick release together with a series of clicks as she idles into the yard to wait beside her father. One foot on the closest pillion peg, I brace myself on Tyke's shoulders and climb behind him. He gives my thigh a stroke, from hip to knee, then a squeeze, and I slide closer, curling my arms around his waist to rest them at the creases of his thigh and hip. He turns to glance over his shoulder, and I lean forward, touching my helmet to his.
It's our process, and it still gives me a little thrill each time we complete the small gestures in their specific order.
The weather's eased since the holiday snow season—the roads clearer yet not wholly devoid of winter's touch as we ease out toward town. I take in the crisp smells beneath my helmet, the slight bite to the air still where it touches me about my neck once we hit the open road. Maddie cruises behind at a safe distance, lazily weaving in the lane when I twist my head to check on her.
She's excited—giddy at the thought of finally having a girlfriend to ride with. I love that for her, and I love that it got to be me.
My heart rate picks up the closer we get to the dealership, and I steal glances at Tyke and me when we ride past the plate-glass windows down the main street. The tips of the patch on my back are visible, snaking their points around my shoulder to contrast against the black leather. Some days, when I wake, it still seems like a dream that not one but two incredible men would want to claim me as theirs. Yet I give gratitude every day that they did.
It’s my mind’s favorite thing to catastrophize when I hit my pre-period depression: what would have happened if Tyke had said no? If Maddie hadn't cut her date with Deo short and come to help me out.
If I’d just given in and let Connor have me.
The bike's back tire hits the curb as we turn into the dealership driveway, jolting me from my thoughts. I tighten my grip on Tyke, eager to get off and check out my new baby but content to stay here a little longer—until the nerves subside. At least, that's what I tell myself.
“There she is,” Tyke says as soon as his engine cuts off.
I pop my visor and follow his line of sight around the back of the building and spot the front forks and wheel poking out from behind a bulky Street Glide. My chest tightens, fingertips tingling, and legs charged to carry me across to the brand new Nightster.
Nobody else has ridden her. Nobody but me when I did a one-mile test loop around the neighboring block just to be sure. Three miles on the clock, two of those from transport from the factory to here.
“Oh, my God.” I lean back yet stay on the bike. “Why am I so nervous?”
Tyke chuckles. “Probably because you slid the witch’s broom across the yard.” He sighs, settling his helmet on the bars. “You’ve had fifteen hours of lessons since then. Fifteen hours where you stayed upright and showed yourself you can do this.” He gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this. And we’ll be right there with you.”
I exhale heavily out of my nose and unclip my helmet. Tyke takes it from me as soon as I've slipped it off and nods toward the salesman exiting the sliding glass doors to the showroom.
“Rae!” he exclaims, hands wide. “Are you excited?”
“Ready to shit myself, more like,” I mumble, slipping off the pillion seat.
Tyke grins and pats my ass. "You don't need me for the formalities. We'll wait here."
I squash the immediate disappointment at not sharing the moment with him and remind myself I'm a strong, independent woman. If he thinks I can do this alone, I can. Tyke believes in me, and I will, too.
“You okay?” Maddie calls from her spot parked behind Tyke.
I nod. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
I've faced worse than this. I witnessed a murder, was taken hostage by the jealous property, got stalked by my ex, and was mentally abused by my family.
I can handle signing ownership papers.
The salesman watches me with thin apprehension as I dust my hands off on the ass of my jeans and draw a deep breath. “We can have it delivered if you prefer.”
“Nope.” I nod toward the sales floor. “Let’s do this.”
Twenty minutes later, I have ownership papers tucked inside my jacket and a shop assistant fixing the number plate on my bike. I'm so intently staring at the evidence of ownership that I don't hear Tyke approach until his firm hands on my hips startle me.
“Shit.” I slam a hand to my chest. “You scared me.”
"Keep gettin' lost in your head while you're out in public like that, and I may rethink lettin' you have this freedom."
He teases. I know he does. But there’s an undercurrent of concern attached to the weak threat. It’s been two months since Tyke took down Terry. Two months since his brother kidnapped Maddie and held her as a bargaining chip.
Two months isn't enough to assure him we're okay now. That he can stop searching the shadows and looking in every doorway. Tyke's a protector, through and through, and I would never take that away from him.
“Deep breaths, baby girl.” His arms slide around my waist, and he nuzzles against the top of my ear. “You’ll do fine.”
A bike rumbles into the yard, yet I pay it no mind, considering the shop mechanics have been taking customers' bikes out for test rides the whole time we've been here. I'm too freaking excited. Buzzing with the anticipation and the fear of my upcoming debut ride.
The young guy rises from his haunches and pockets the tool in his hand. “All set to go.”
“You need me to run you through where everything is?” The salesman asks me the question, yet he looks to Tyke for the answer.
Some places will never shake the inherent patriarchy, and a vehicle sales lot is one of those.
“No.” Tyke captures my chin, steering my focus away from the arrogant asshole. “She knows what she’s doin’.” He nods to my Harley Davidson Nightster, the aftermarket Vance and Hines shortshots exhaust and underslung mirrors already fitted, and in my choice of Black Denim. All black everything. Always. “Get your helmet on, baby girl. Your escort’s here.”
I frown at Tyke in confusion, then whip my head to the man approaching from the lot.
"Oh, my God!" Thighs clenched, I hold my fists before me and bop on the spot like a fucking fangirl. "You lied to me!"
Digger grins, running a gloved hand over his tousled hair as he approaches. “No lies, Rae. Just got my shit done quick so I could be here.”
His shit . The mess they're still cleaning with the Devil's Breed. His shit is important, which is why the significance of his gesture isn't lost on me. "Thank you." I melt when he takes my face in his gloved hands, pressing on my toes to kiss him.
The salesman looks between us, then back to Tyke, clearly trying to do the math. He schools his features, then hands me the key with a grin and says, "Start it up."
I pocket the key fob and push the starter button. The engine whirrs twice, then ignites with a growl, the new pipes amplifying the gorgeoussound.
“Like it?” Digger asks.
“I fucking love it.” Hands clasped before me, I do another little dance.
Tyke hands me my helmet as Maddie rounds the building, hands in the air. "Fuck yeah!" She dance-walks toward me, a grin splitting her face. "That's my girl!"
"That's whose girl?" Tyke teases, snagging me by the hip to bump me against him.
“Ours,” Digger growls, stealing me for himself.
The poor salesman and shop hand look like they want to melt into the ground. Not like they'd have any doubt about what's going on before their eyes—the damn proof lies emblazoned across my back.
I slip my helmet on, clasp the chin strap, and then fit my gloves, still humming at the pretty rumble from my new obsession. The pressure when I throw a leg over is intense; I don’t need to glance around to know I’ve got three pairs of eager eyes on me as I right the bike and kick the stand in. Hands to the bars, I feel out the seat position again, familiarizing myself with where everything is. Turn signal, horn in case of emergency, gauges… I stretch two fingers out to test the clutch, then repeat the same on the other side with the brake.
"Don't overthink it, babe." Maddie raises her phone, recording the momentous occasion.
No pressure, Rae. It’s not as though I have a best friend who’s the kind to capture me falling on my ass and then share it with the club for laughs. Fuck me. Nobody’s perfect.
Everybody makes mistakes.
What sets some of us apart is our willingness to make those mistakes in the pursuit of progress.
I draw a deep breath, pull in the clutch, and tap the gear lever down to first, then ease on the throttle.
My heartbeat pulsates in my ears, thumping in my fingertips. Even my goddamn lips thrum with nervous energy as I idle the bike out into the yard. My balance feels good, and my position makes it easy to reach everything I need. I smile a goddamn mile wide beneath my helmet, giggling as I bring the Nightster to a stop and glance behind me.
Maddie tracks my progress with her phone, a dozen paces behind her father and uncle heading for their bikes parked to my left and right.
I know, without a doubt, I'll bug her for the clip later so I can steal a still shot of this moment. The three of us, our patches nold on our backs, doing the thing we love.
Fuck. There’s so much love.
And I couldn’t be happier.
I may carry scars from the events that brought me here, but as Tyke and Digger wait for me to leave the yard before them, sliding into formation behind me to begin the journey home, I know without a shadow of a doubt that all the pain was worth it.
Every tear. Every sleepless night.
Every moment that I feared I wouldn't survive.
Because no matter how dark the night, I understand now. I get it.
There'll always be enough light in the world to conquer it.
You just have to look for it.