Page 44 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)

A lump forms in my throat as I glance toward the door, thinking of Charlotte waiting beyond it.

“I'll miss the day-to-day. The bullshit runs, the all-night parties, even the prospect hazing.” I manage a smile despite the heaviness in my chest. “Upland and the Heaven's Rejects will always be my family, no matter where we land.”

“And we'll always have a place for you. Both of you. Whenever you're ready,” Raze offers with a rare smile. “Visit when you can, huh?”

“I still need to clear out my shit from the clubhouse. And figure out what to do with my truck since my bike's currently a pile of twisted metal in some Vegas junkyard. You guys don't have to start missing me just yet.”

Raze chuckles, shaking his head. “That truck of yours is probably the ugliest thing on four wheels I've ever seen. It would be doing you a favor if we torch it.”

“Hey, that '87 Ford has gotten me through some serious shit.” I defend my rust-bucket with mock indignation. “Besides, it's all I've got until insurance pays out for the Harley.”

“Club is already handling that,” Hero interjects. “New bike is being built as we speak. Consider it a going-away present.”

The generosity catches me off guard. “You serious?”

“Dead serious. Custom Road King. Black with silver detailing. Should be ready in about three weeks.”

“Jesus,” I breathe, genuinely touched. “That's...thank you.”

Raze waves off my gratitude again. “Like I said, family. Now get your ass back out there before your woman thinks we've kidnapped you.”

I turn to leave, but pause with my hand on the door. “What about the Vegas chapter? If I'm not taking it?—”

“You focus on your future,” Hero adds. “Vegas will sort itself out.”

I nod, pushing through the chapel door back into the chaos of the party. I search for Charlotte's familiar silhouette.

I find her exactly where I left her—perched on a barstool with Ratchet gesturing wildly beside her, clearly deep into one of his war stories. I watch as she laughs. Really laughs. Happy looks so fucking good on her.

“—and that's when I told the bastard, 'You picked the wrong biker to fuck with.’”

I slide between them, cutting Ratchet off mid-sentence. “Mind if I steal her away?”

Ratchet's eyebrows shoot up, but his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Be my guest. I was just getting to the good part where I single-handedly saved an orphanage while bleeding out.”

“I'm sure it was riveting,” I say dryly, offering my hand to Charlotte. “Walk with me?”

She takes it without hesitation, sliding off the barstool. “Everything okay with Raze?”

“I'll tell you outside,” I say, taking her hand and leading her through the crowd. Brothers raise their drinks as we pass, a few calling my name, but I keep moving, focused on getting Charlotte out of the noise and chaos.

The night air hits us like a blessing after the smoky clubhouse, crisp and clean against my skin.

The parking lot is packed with bikes, chrome gleaming under the security lights.

I guide Charlotte past them toward the small garden area on the side of the building—just a few benches and some scraggly desert plants, but it's quiet and private.

“You're worrying me. Is it your leg? Are you in pain?”

I pull her closer, tucking her against my side as we reach the farthest bench. “I'm fine, sweetheart. Better than fine.”

“Then what was that meeting about? You look...different.”

I ease down onto the bench, pulling her into my lap despite the twinge in my thigh. Her weight is nothing compared to the burden that's just lifted from my shoulders.

“Raze offered me Vegas,” I say, watching her face carefully. “My own chapter. Everything that was Ace's would be mine.”

“Thor, that's...that's a big step up, right?”

“It was,” I agree, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Was?” Understanding dawning on her. “You turned it down?”

“I did. Vegas isn't where we need to be.”

“We? You made this decision for both of us?”

Fuck. I'm already screwing this up.

“No,” I say quickly, taking her hands in mine.

“That's not what I meant. I turned it down because I didn't want to assume what you wanted. Because this city...” I gesture around us at the neon-lit skyline visible beyond the clubhouse.

“This city is soaked in your blood. In your pain.

And I couldn't bear the thought of asking you to build a life where every street corner might trigger a flashback.”

“So, what happens now? With the club?”

“I'm going nomad,” I tell her, the words still strange on my tongue. “Keep my patch, my brotherhood, but no permanent charter. Free to move wherever we—” I pause, correcting myself. “Wherever I need to go.”

“And where is that exactly?” Charlotte shifts on my lap. “Where does a nomad call home?”

“Wherever you are,” I say simply. “If you'll have me.”

Her breath catches, a small sound that cuts straight through me. “Thor?—”

“I'm not asking you for promises. I'm not asking for forever. I'm just asking for a chance to build something new together, somewhere far from all this. Somewhere you can heal.”

Her fingers trace the outline of my jaw, skimming over stubble and the fading bruises that still mark my face. “What about the club? Your brothers? This has been your life for so long.”

“They'll always be my family,” I say, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “But you're my future, Charlotte. If you want to be.”

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “San Simeon. Oregon coast. Montana mountains. Some little town in the middle of nowhere where nobody knows our names.”

“Just like that? Drop everything and disappear?”

“Just like that. We can be on the road tomorrow if that's what you want.”

Charlotte's laugh is soft, disbelieving. “You'd really leave all this behind? For me?”

“In a heartbeat.” The words come easy because they're true. “This life—the club, the chaos—it gave me purpose when I had none. But you, Charlotte, you've given me something I didn't even know I was missing.”

“I've never had a choice before. Not a real one. Terrance made every decision for me, and then survival made the rest.”

“This is yours,” I tell her, my thumb tracing circles on her wrist. “Whatever you decide, it's yours. No pressure, no expectations.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, eyes fixed on the desert horizon where the city lights bleed into star-streaked darkness. When she looks back at me, something in her face has shifted—a door opening, a wall lowering.

“I think I want to go home. Back to San Simeon. At least for a little while.”

“San Simeon, it is.”

“I miss the ocean. The way it washes everything clean. Makes it new again.”

“Then we'll go tomorrow. Pack up whatever we need and just...go.”

“Just like that?” A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, small but genuine. “No farewell tour? No dramatic goodbyes?”

I shrug, pulling her closer. “We say our goodbyes tonight. We hit the road at dawn.”

Charlotte leans into me, her forehead resting against mine. “What about your stuff in Upland?” she asks, always thinking ahead—even now.

I smile. “We’ll swing by and grab it on our way home.”

That word lingers between us, warm and solid. Home. For so long, it felt like a place I couldn’t reach—like something meant for other people, not men like me. But with her, it’s different. Like breath filling my lungs. Like a key finally turning in the right lock.

She shifts closer, her hand curling around mine like it’s always belonged there.

I’ve spent my life chasing something I couldn’t name—peace, purpose, freedom.

Now, with Charlotte beside me, I don’t have to chase anything.

I’m already home.