I climb on first and keep the bike steady while she gets on behind me. Her hands land at my waist. Then pause.
I wait.
Her arms slide around me.
Not desperate.
Not terrified.
Intentional.
Hell.
I start Widowmaker because if I sit still much longer, I might turn around and ask questions neither of us can answer in a parking lot full of club eyes.
We ride back through Hell with storm clouds pressing low over the hills and headlights smeared across wet pavement. Amelia’s hold is different again. Not like last night after the almost-kiss. Not like this morning when the bike was a test. Tonight her body leans into mine with a quiet weight that says she is tired of holding herself upright alone.
I ride smooth.
I ride careful.
I hate that careful has become my love language with a woman I ain’t supposed to love.
At my driveway, the prospects wave us through from their shadowed post. I clock the road, the trees, the porch, the garage. Nothing out of place.
Still, I circle once before parking.
Amelia notices.
“You saw something?” she asks when I cut the engine.
“No.”
“Then why did you circle?”
“Because no is only useful after you check.”
She absorbs that, then nods.
Inside the house, the living room is dim except for the moon night-light glowing down the hall and a lamp near the couch. The pillow fort still stands, though barely. A dinosaur courthouse has been built inside it out of blocks, cereal boxes, and one of my motorcycle magazines folded into a ramp. Blue Rex sits in the judge’s seat, which is actually my upside-down boot.
I stare at it.
“My boot is part of the government now.”
Amelia looks over my shoulder and laughs softly.
That sound goes through me cleaner than bourbon.
From the bedroom, August snores.
Not loud. Tiny. Peaceful.
Amelia heads toward the hall immediately, and I let her. After sending Lottie’s niece Orlena home, I lock the front door, then check the back. When I return, Amelia’s standing in the bedroom doorway, one hand on the frame, watching her son sleep.
I stop behind her, leaving space.
The kid is sprawled diagonally across my bed under dinosaur sheets, one arm over Blue Rex, mouth open. The moonlight makes his hair silver at the edges. He looks safe.