2. Rev
REV
Danny’s Sportster is sitting on the lift, waiting for me to finish the valve adjustment I started two hours ago.
I haven’t touched it since she left.
Angel Medina. Wheels’ little sister. Standing in my garage with fear in her eyes and her jaw set like she were daring the world to knock her down. She looked at me, said my name, and then bolted like I was the thing she was running from.
I should get back to work. Danny’s picking the bike up tomorrow, and I’ve got three other jobs lined up behind his. The garage doesn’t run itself. Bills don’t pay themselves. Sitting here staring at the door she walked out of isn’t going to fix anything.
I pick up my wrench. Put it down again.
Fuck.
Five years. Five years since I’ve seen her, and it took her about thirty seconds to wreck me all over again.
I noticed her the first time Wheels brought her around.
Barbecue at the clubhouse, summer, maybe six years ago now.
She was wearing cutoffs and a tank top and giving Lock shit about his burger being burned, completely unafraid of a man twice her size who could snap her in half.
Wheels was laughing his ass off. And I was standing by the grill thinking who the hell is that?
His sister. Off limits. End of story.
Except it wasn’t the end. She kept showing up.
Birthdays, cookouts, the occasional Friday night when Wheels wanted to shoot pool and she wanted free beer.
I learned things about her without meaning to.
The way she laughed—loud and real, nothing held back.
The way she argued with her brother about everything and nothing.
The way she looked at me sometimes, quick glances she probably thought I didn’t catch.
I caught every single one.
I was working up to something. I don’t even know what—a conversation, maybe. A reason to talk to her that didn’t involve handing her a drink or nodding when she said hey. Something that would let me figure out if those glances meant what I wanted them to mean.
Then Wheels went down.
Blown tire on the highway. Dead before the ambulance got there. I was one of the guys who went to the scene. I saw the bike. I saw what was left of her brother.
After the funeral, I pulled the wreck into the garage and went over every inch of it.
Needed to know if it was something I missed.
Something I could have caught if I’d looked harder the last time he brought it in for service.
Spent three days taking it apart, checking every bolt, every line, every component.
It wasn’t mechanical. Just bad luck. Just a piece of rubber that gave out at the wrong second on the wrong stretch of road at speed.
That didn’t make me feel better. Nothing made me feel better.
And Angel—she fell apart. I saw it happen.
Watched her go from that loud, laughing woman to someone hollowed out, moving through the funeral like a ghost. The club tried to be there for her.
She couldn’t take it. Every time she looked at us, she saw him.
Every cut, every bike, every brother who wasn’t the one she wanted.
She stopped coming around. Stopped answering calls. Disappeared so completely that it was like she’d never existed.
I told myself to let her go. She needed space. She needed to grieve without a bunch of bikers reminding her of everything she’d lost. And I had no right to her anyway—never had. She was Wheels’ sister, not mine.
So I buried it. Shoved whatever I was feeling into a hole and piled work on top of it until I couldn’t feel it anymore. Five years of keeping busy. Five years of convincing myself I’d moved on.
She walked into my garage today and I found out that was bullshit.
I’m not over her. I was never over her. I just got good at pretending.
The wrench is still in my hand. I put it down again and scrub my palm over my face.
Get your shit together. She came here for help, not for you to lose your mind over her.
I don’t even know what kind of help. She didn’t get that far before she ran. Something scared her enough to walk back into the world she’s been avoiding for five years, and something about being here—about seeing me, maybe, or the cut, or all of it—scared her worse.
She’ll come back. I know she will. Whatever drove her here isn’t going away just because she lost her nerve once.
And when she does, I’m going to help her. Whatever she needs. No questions, no hesitation.
That’s what brothers do for family. And she’s still family, even after five years. She’s still Wheels’ sister.
I’m just going to have to ignore the part of me that wants her to be something else.
I end up at the clubhouse that night because the alternative is sitting alone in my apartment thinking about her, and that’s not going to do anyone any good.
The main room is loud. Rogue’s holding court at the pool table, running his mouth while he runs the table.
Lock’s at the bar, quiet as always, watching everything and saying nothing.
King and Demi are in the corner booth, her tucked under his arm, loved up as usual.
She’s really softened our president, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
It feels like everyone’s paired off now. That’s the thing I keep noticing lately, even when I try not to.
King and Demi, married and still looking at each other like the honeymoon never ended.
Rogue and Bella, playing house. Lock and Josie, who shows up most weekends with that look in her eye like she can’t believe she gets to have this.
Diesel and Gracie, expecting their first kid any day now—she’s been waddling around the clubhouse for weeks, hand on her belly, Diesel hovering like he’s afraid she’ll break if he looks away.
Even Ghost found someone. India, the pop star. They split their time between here and wherever her career takes her, but when she’s in town, he’s a different man. Still quiet, still intense, but there’s something softer underneath.
And then there’s me.
It feels like I’m last one without an old lady. The guy who shows up, does his job, and goes home alone.
I’m fine with that. I’ve been fine with that for years. I’ve got the garage. I’ve got the club. That’s enough. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
“You look like shit,” Rogue says, dropping onto the stool next to me.
“Thanks.”
“Seriously. You’ve got that look. The brooding one. More than usual, I mean.”
“I don’t brood.”
“Brother, you brood like it’s an Olympic sport and you’re going for gold.” He signals the prospect for two beers. “What’s going on?”
I think about telling him. The words are right there, that Wheels’ sister showed up at the garage today. But saying it out loud makes it real in a way I’m not ready for. Makes it something I have to deal with instead of something I can shove back into that hole and pretend doesn’t exist.
“Nothing,” I say. “Long day.”
Rogue gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it drop. That’s the thing about Rogue—he talks too much, but he knows when to shut up. It’s why he’s good at his job.
I drink my beer. Watch my brothers. Try not to think about auburn hair and dark eyes and the way she said this was a mistake before she turned and ran.
I fail.
She came back the next day.
I’m under the hood of a Chevy when I hear her car pull in—same engine, same hesitation before she kills it. I wipe my hands on a rag and straighten up, watching the door.
She walks in slower this time. Shoulders tight, chin up, like she’s bracing for a fight. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt with the name of her café on it, hair pulled back, no makeup. She looks tired. She looks scared.
She looks like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I push the thought deep inside myself.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
Silence. She’s looking at me, working up to something. I wait. I can be patient when it counts.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she finally says. “I shouldn’t have just... I wasn’t ready. For this.” She gestures vaguely at the garage, at me, at everything. “Being back here.”
“I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” I lean against the workbench, keeping a distance between us. Giving her space. “It’s been a while.”
“Five years.” She laughs, nervously. “Five years, and I couldn’t even—” She stops. Shakes her head. “Anyway. I came back because I need help. And I don’t know where else to go.”
“Tell me.”
So she does.
His name is Niall Garrett. He’s been fixated on her for four months.
They never dated—he asked, she said no, and something in him broke.
Now he’s everywhere. Shows up at her café.
Waits in her parking lot. Leaves notes on her car.
He came to her workplace yesterday morning while she was inside and left one on her windshield, just to let her know he could.
The cops won’t help. He hasn’t technically done anything illegal. Her friends don’t believe her—he’s charming, well-liked, everyone thinks he’s a great guy. He’s been telling people they’re together, building a narrative that makes her sound crazy when she denies it.
Four months of this, and she’s been handling it alone.
My hands are curled into fists by the time she finishes. I have to force myself to relax them.
“I don’t need you to fix it,” she says quickly. “I just need... I thought maybe if he saw me with someone. Someone who looks like a threat. Someone dangerous. Maybe he’d back off.”
“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” She winces like she knows how it sounds. “You’d just have to show up. Let people see the cut. Let word get around. He’s a coward at heart—I know he is. If he thinks I’m with someone who could actually hurt him, he’ll move on. Find someone easier to obsess over.”
She’s watching me, waiting for me to say something. Waiting for me to tell her this is stupid, or that I can’t help, or that she should figure it out herself.
“Okay,” I say.
She blinks. “Okay?”
“I’ll do it.”
“You don’t even—I haven’t told you what I’m offering, or how long, or—”
“Don’t care.” I hold her gaze. “Some asshole’s been scaring you for four months. You came here for help. I’m helping. That’s it.”
Her mouth opens. Closes. For a second, she looks like she might cry, and something in my chest twists hard.
“Why?” she asks quietly.
Because I’ve been thinking about you for six years, and I never stopped. Because you’re standing in my garage asking for help, and there’s nothing in the world that could make me say no.
“You’re Wheels’ sister,” I say instead. “You’re family.”
She flinches at his name. Just slightly, just for a second, but I catch it.
“Right,” she says. “Family.”
“So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll come by the café. Morning, afternoon, whenever works. Let people see us together. He hears you’ve got a biker hanging around, he’ll think twice about showing up.”
She nods slowly. “And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we figure out step two.”
I don’t tell her what step two looks like in my head. She doesn’t need to know that yet.
She lets out a breath, and some of the tension bleeds out of her shoulders. “Thank you. I didn’t—I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”
“I’ll always say yes.” The words come out before I can stop them. Too honest. Too much.
She looks at me. Really looks, like she’s trying to read something in my face.
“I should go,” she says. “I’ve got the lunch rush starting soon.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
She turns to leave, then stops at the door. Looks back.
“Rev?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad it was you. That Jonah knew you.” She swallows hard. “He talked about you sometimes. Said you were solid.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m standing alone in my garage with my heart pounding and my hands shaking and the absolute certainty that I am in deep, deep trouble.
This isn’t about Wheels. It was never about Wheels.
It’s about her. It’s always been about her.
And now I have to spend God knows how long pretending to be something I actually want to be, keeping my hands to myself, keeping my distance, while she looks at me like I’m doing her a favor.
You’re a fucking idiot, I tell myself.
But I’m smiling when I pick up the wrench.