Page 7 of Rampage

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I'm used to men who want something from me—my foster father and his sick desires, customers who think a smile means I'm interested, boys who see my vulnerability as an invitation. Reid's interest feels different, and that's what makes it dangerous.

"Good night, Reid," I say, taking a step back.

He nods, understanding my retreat. "Good night, Lily." He revs the engine once more. "Sweet dreams."

I watch him ride away, the taillight of his motorcycle growing smaller until it disappears around the corner. Only then do I climb the back stairs to my small apartment above the diner.

Inside, I lean against the closed door, my heart still racing. This is stupid. I can't afford to be attracted to anyone, let alone someone connected to an MC. My life is finally stable. I have a job—two jobs. A roof over my head. People who care about me without wanting to own me.

I can't risk any of that for a pair of blue eyes and a handsome smile.

But as I get ready for bed, I can't help remembering the feel of Reid's solid presence, the security of his arms as he handled the motorcycle, the way he seemed to understand my boundaries without me having to explain them.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. A text from Jeremy.

Still planning to come to the wedding? Ben's asking about final headcount.

I stare at the message, guilt gnawing at me. Jeremy has been nothing but kind, and I want to be there for his special day. But the wedding is back in my hometown.

Where Frank still lives.

Instead of answering, I put the phone down and crawl into bed. Tomorrow. I'll figure it out tomorrow.

As I drift off to sleep, my dreams are a confusing mix of motorcycles, apple turnovers, and Frank's angry face. I wake several times, startled by phantom sounds, before finally falling into a deep slumber just before dawn.

Morning comes too soon. Sunlight filters through the thin curtains, and I groan, reaching for my phone. It's Sunday, my one day off from both jobs. The text from Jeremy still waits for an answer.

I sit up, running a hand through my tangled hair. The wedding is in a few weeks. If I don't commit now, Jeremy will understand I'm not coming. He'll be disappointed, but he'll understand.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard. What's the worst that could happen? Frank might be there, might even see me. But I'm legally an adult now. He has no power over me anymore.

Except the power of fear. The power of memories that still wake me in the night.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I type, I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it for anything.

The relief I feel after sending it surprises me. Maybe it's time to stop running. To face the past, so I can truly move forward.

I spend the morning cleaning my small apartment, then treat myself to a long shower. The rest of the day stretches before me, empty of obligations. Usually, I'd stay in, maybe read or watch something on my laptop. Safe. Predictable.

Today, though, something feels different. Maybe it's the decision about the wedding, or maybe it's the lingering memory of the wind in my hair and strong arms.

I pull on jeans and a simple t-shirt and head downstairs. The diner is busy with the Sunday lunch crowd, and Deb raises an eyebrow when she sees me.

"Day off means day off, kiddo," she says, expertly balancing plates as she passes.

"Just grabbing some lunch," I assure her, sliding onto a stool at the counter. "Then I thought I might walk down to the bookstore."

She nods approvingly. "Good. You need to get out more." She glances around, then leans closer. "Heard you got a ride home last night from a certain Sinner."

Heat rushes to my face. "News travels fast."

"Small town," she says with a shrug. "For what it's worth, Reid's one of the good ones. Quiet, but solid."

I pick at the sandwich she sets in front of me, not sure how to respond. "I barely know him."

"That's generally how relationships start," she points out, her tone soft. "Look, I'm not saying to jump into anything. Just… don't close yourself off to possibilities.

This is the second person in two days to tell me to be open.