Page 24

"She also makes killer coffee," Dex added. "Kept the shelter's donation records straighter than they'd been in years."

I stared at him. I hadn't realized he'd paid such close attention to what I did there. The casual way he listed my abilities made my throat tight.

"Sounds like exactly what the Kowalskis need," Duke said thoughtfully. "You know Sweet Dreams Bakery on Maple?"

I nodded. The little Polish bakery with the hand-painted window signs and the smell of fresh bread that made you want to cry. I'd walked past it a hundred times, pressing my nose to the glass like a kid.

"Older couple, been there forty years. Their daughter just moved to Denver for her fancy tech job, and they're struggling to keep up with the front counter." Duke took a sip of his beer, considering. "They pay protection fees to the club. Good people. They'd listen if I vouched for you."

The words didn't fully register at first. Then they hit all at once—a real job, at a real place, with people who Duke personally endorsed. Not charity, but an introduction. A foot in the door based on someone believing I was worth the recommendation.

"You'd do that?" The question came out smaller than intended, threaded with disbelief.

Duke's expression softened. "Family takes care of family, sweetheart. And you're family now."

Family. There it was again, stated like fact rather than possibility. Like I'd already passed some test I didn't know I was taking.

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked hard, focusing on my plate. I would not cry in a biker bar. I would not cry over basic human kindness just because I'd gone so long without it.

"The Kowalskis are good employers," Mia added softly. "Mrs. K brings Duke babka every Sunday even though he pretends he doesn't have a sweet tooth. And Mr. K fixes everyone's broken things without being asked. They take care of their people."

"Babka," Duke muttered. "Woman's trying to make me soft."

"Too late," Mia said innocently, then squeaked when he tugged her braid gently.

I’d always thought bikers were monsters—heartless criminals who ruled with fear and violence. But these were just people who'd found their tribe, their family, their way of living authentically.

"When could I . . ." I stopped, afraid of seeming too eager.

"I'll call them tonight," Duke said easily. "See if you can stop by tomorrow afternoon. Dex can take you over, make the introduction."

"I'd appreciate that." My voice stayed steady, but under the table, my hand found Dex's thigh. His fingers covered mine immediately, warm and solid.

"Just be yourself," Duke continued. "Mrs. K has a soft spot for shy girls. Reminds her of her daughter at that age. And if you can handle the morning rush without crying, you'll be hired."

"Duke," Mia scolded gently. "Don't scare her."

"Not scaring. Preparing." But his wink took any sting out of the words. "Besides, something tells me Cleo's tougher than she looks. Has to be, to handle this one's moods."

He nodded at Dex, who just grunted in response. But I caught the slight smile tugging at his lips.

"He's not moody," I defended, then immediately wanted to sink through the floor. "I mean—"

"She's right," Tyson called from the bar, that purple-haired woman tucked under his arm. "Dex isn't moody. He's consistently grumpy. Very reliable that way."

"Fuck off, Monroe," Dex said without heat.

"Language," Thor rumbled automatically, then pointed at Mandy. "Little ears."

"My ears aren't little!" Mandy protested. "They're perfectly normal-sized!"

Family.

That’s what this felt like.

Warmth and longing washed over me, as I felt suddenly desperate to belong.

T he men had shifted to discussing club business—something about security rotations that made Dex's expression go carefully blank. I was pretending to focus on my fries when Mia appeared at my elbow, dark eyes bright with mischief.

"Want to see something cool?" She bounced slightly on her toes, energy barely contained. "I promise it's not scary."

I glanced at Dex, who gave me a subtle nod. Whatever Mia wanted to show me, he trusted her. That was enough.

"Okay," I said, wiping my hands on my napkin.

"Yay!" She grabbed my hand like we'd been friends for years instead of an hour. "Duke, I'm stealing Cleo for girl time!"

Duke's expression softened as he looked at her. "Don't overwhelm her, baby girl."

"I’m gonna whelm her, nothing more!" She was already tugging me away from the table, through the bar toward a narrow staircase I hadn't noticed before.

The steps creaked under our feet as we climbed. The noise from the bar faded, replaced by something quieter. More intimate. My heart hammered as Mia led me down a hallway lined with photos—the club through the years, bikes and brothers and history I didn't understand yet.

"This is mine and Duke's apartment," she explained, stopping at a door at the end of the hall. "But this room . . . this is special."

She opened the door, and my breath caught hard enough to hurt.

Soft lavender walls with white trim that looked like frosting.

Shelves lined with stuffed animals—bears and bunnies and unicorns arranged with careful precision.

A daybed drowning in pillows and blankets that looked soft enough to melt into.

The gentle glow of fairy lights strung across the ceiling turned everything magical, like stepping into a dream.

A small white table held coloring supplies organized in rainbow order. A toy chest painted with delicate flowers sat beneath the window. Everything was soft, gentle, safe in a way that made my chest ache with wanting.

"This is my little space," Mia said, voice dropping to something vulnerable.

She moved into the room with the ease of someone who belonged there, picking up a stuffed unicorn from the bed.

Her whole posture changed—shoulders relaxing, face softening, like she could finally breathe.

"Duke had it made for me when we got together.

I had to stay her for a while, because of .

. . reasons. But, anyway, this is somewhere I can just . . . be."

I stood frozen in the doorway, afraid to enter. Afraid to want this. Afraid to believe it was real.

"You can come in," Mia said gently. "It's okay."

My feet moved without permission, carrying me into this sacred space. Everything smelled like vanilla and fabric softener. Safe smells. Comforting smells.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, running my fingers along the edge of the toy chest. The wood was smooth, polished with care.

"Duke says I needed somewhere that was just mine.

Where the world couldn't get in." She hugged the unicorn to her chest, and for a moment she looked younger.

Fragile in a way she hadn't been downstairs.

"You're like me, aren't you? I can tell.

The way you watch us, the way Dex looks at you.

Like you're something precious that needs protecting. "

The words hit like a physical blow. I sank onto the edge of the daybed, the softness immediately trying to swallow me whole.

"I don't know if I'm brave enough," I admitted, picking at a loose thread on my jeans. "To be that vulnerable with someone."

Mia sat beside me, still clutching her unicorn. This close, I could see the faint scar on her temple, the tiny lines around her eyes that said her life hadn't always been fairy lights and stuffed animals.

"It's not about being brave," she said. "It's about trusting someone enough to let them see all of you. The parts that need protecting, the parts that need guidance, the parts that just need love."

"What if he gets tired of taking care of me?" The fear slipped out before I could stop it. "What if I'm too much work?"

"Oh, honey." Mia's hand found mine, squeezing gently. "That's not how it works. Not with the good ones. And Dex? He's one of the best."

She set the unicorn carefully back on its shelf, movements precise like it mattered where everything lived.

"You know what he did last month? Built an entire playhouse for the Anderson kids down the street.

Spent every evening for two weeks sawing and hammering, and when their mom tried to pay him, he just grunted and walked away. "

"He did?"

"That's who he is. A caretaker who doesn't know how to ask for care back." She smiled, soft and knowing. "Until you."

My throat burned with unshed tears. "I don't know how to do this. Be little. Be vulnerable. I've been taking care of myself for so long . . ."

"That's the beautiful part," Mia said. "You don't have to know. That's what Daddies are for. To hold you when you fall apart. To make rules that keep you safe. To love all the pieces of you, even the ones you think are too broken or too needy or too much."

She stood, moving to the bookshelf and pulling out a well-worn picture book. "Duke reads to me every night. Even when I insist I'm too grown up for stories. He says everyone needs stories, needs someone to tuck them in and tell them they're loved."

The casual way she said it, like it was normal to be read to, to be tucked in, to be little—it made everything I'd been afraid to want suddenly seem possible.

"Does everyone know?" I asked. "About . . . this?"

"The club knows we have our own dynamic. They respect it. Protect it." She put the book back carefully. "There's no shame in needing what we need, Cleo. No shame in wanting to feel small and safe and cared for."

I thought about Dex's careful hands as he helped me off his bike. The way he cut my food without being asked. How he knew I was too anxious to eat before I said a word. All the ways he already took care of me without making me feel weak for needing it.

"Dex is a good man," Mia said simply. "If you let him, he'll take care of you in ways you didn't even know you needed. He'll make you feel safe enough to be exactly who you are."

"I want that," I whispered, the admission scraping my throat raw. "I want it so much it scares me."