That is blessing enough in this place.
I head upstairs. The hallway is dim, the air cooler up here, the noise of the clubhouse dulled by old walls. Amelia’s door is closed. Light glows beneath it. I hear her murmuring to August, soft words I can’t make out.
I set the chair against the wall where I can see the stairs and the door without crowding either. Then I sit.
My jeans are damp. My boots are wet. My mood is worse.
Downstairs, the club starts moving around the new plan. Phones. Watches. Patrols. Whiskey digging. Legend thinking.Sophie probably making another list that will end with me buying a stuffed dinosaur like a damn fool.
Behind the door, August’s crying fades.
Amelia’s voice keeps going a little longer.
Then quiet.
I lean back against the wall and stare at the ceiling.
I’m not her man.
I’m not that kid’s anything.
I’m not trading my Harley for a minivan, not learning school schedules, not playing house with a woman whose life is on fire and whose maybe-brother is my president.
I’m only here because I said I would be.
That is all.
The door opens a crack.
I sit up.
Amelia looks out, hair loose around her face, eyes tired and still too bright.
“He’s asleep,” she whispers.
I nod.
She stays there.
I wait.
She looks down the hall, then at me. “Thank you.”
“You already said that.”
“I’m saying it again.”
“Careful. I’ll get spoiled.”
Her mouth curves, but the smile doesn’t last. “Jeremy won’t stop.”
“I know.”
“He gets worse when he’s embarrassed.”
“I figured.”
“He will try to make me look crazy.”