Page 3 of Fallen Dove (Fallen Lords MC 2nd Gen #1)

Adley

My feet were on fire.

By the time I dropped my tray on the counter, I was convinced my shoes had turned into medieval torture devices. In Chicago, I sat at a desk most of the day. If I had to move, it was to shuffle to the bathroom, grab a quick lunch, or stand in someone’s office doorway while they explained why my campaign idea wasn’.

“aligned with brand strategy.”

Tonight was nine straight hours of walking, carrying, smiling, dodging, balancing trays, and fielding dumb questions about how many throws were included in the axe package.

I hadn’t sat down once. Not for a sip of water. Not to breathe. And now all I wanted was to crawl down the basement stairs, collapse onto the pullout couch, and not move my body until at least noon tomorrow.

“So?”

Penny’s voice broke into my misery. She leaned on the counter and grinned like she hadn’t just worked the same shift.

“How do you feel after your first day?”

I laughed, though it came out more like a wheeze.

“I feel like I’m thirty-one and not eighteen anymore.”

Penny laughed and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you worked like you weren’t a day over twenty.”

She reached into her apron and pulled out a wad of cash, thumbing through it.

“Just give me a few minutes to split my tips with you.”

I waved her off immediately.

“Don’t worry about it tonight.”

She eyed me suspiciously.

“Are you sure? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

I was more than sure. Standing a minute longer felt like punishment.

“Positive. Keep it. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Honestly, these shoes had always been favorites, but they were not built for nine hours of standing. The balls of my feet throbbed, my arches screamed, and my toes begged for parole.

I tugged the apron over my head, and my ponytail came loose with my hair falling forward and blocking my eyes. I shoved it back just in time to hear the kitchen door swing open.

And there he was.

Mason.

I froze; hair still caught in my fingers. I’d spent the entire night successfully avoiding him. If I was at the pool tables, he was in the kitchen. If I was running drinks to the cornhole boards, he was in the back hallway. We were like magnets flipped the wrong way, close, but never touching. I’d felt him, though. His presence settled over the room even when I couldn’t see him, like he was there without being there there.

And now he was right in front of me.

“How was your first night?”

he asked. His voice was steady but his eyes sharp on me.

“She did good,”

Penny jumped in before I could answer. She pulled a tiny notebook from her apron pocket.

“Only had two guys be jerks, and she shut them down before they could get more than five words out.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I lived in Chicago for fourteen years. The guys there are much worse than the ones in Weston.”

Mason’s gaze never wavered, like he was measuring more than my words.

“I couldn’t imagine living in Chicago,”

Calla said with flipped barstools at the other end of the bar.

“All those people. No, thank you.”

“You get used to it,”

I said. Chicago had been crowded, overwhelming, but impersonal. Nobody cared who I was, and I didn’t care about them. We were all just rats on the same wheel.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hang around and get your tips?”

Penny asked again.

“I’m good,”

I told her.

“Not like I need it between now and tomorrow.”

Sleep was the only thing on my agenda until my next shift. Honestly, the first few paychecks I made here were going to disappear into a black hole of parking tickets and toll fines anyway.

“Same time tomorrow?”

I asked Penny.

She glanced at Mason.

“Ask the bossman. I don’t know if he’s put you on the schedule yet.”

The last thing I wanted to do was look at him, but I forced myself to.

“Same time?”

He nodded slowly.

“If tonight wasn’t too much for you.”

My lip curled before I could stop it.

“I’m more than good.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

“Then same time tomorrow.”

I plastered on my fakest smile. “Great.”

Turning back to Penny, I waved.

“Later, girl.”

She nodded, already bent over her notebook.

I grabbed my jacket and pushed through the front door. The cool night air hit my flushed face, and I exhaled in relief.

Junior was posted by the door with his arms crossed, his presence solid and dependable. He straightened as I stepped outside.

“I got eyes on you until you get to your car.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,”

I told him, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

“I went years on my own without anyone watching out for me.”

“Do it for everyone,”

he said simply.

I didn’t want to argue, not with Junior. He wasn’t pushy, just steady.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Junior. See you later.”

He shadowed me with his eyes while I crossed the lot. I could feel it on my back, but it wasn’t creepy. More like the weight of an older brother making sure I didn’t trip on the way out.

My car sat where I’d left it, silver paint catching in the parking lot lights. I unlocked it, slid into the driver’s seat, and sagged against the worn cushion with a groan. My whole body screamed, but at least I was sitting. I started the engine, and the familiar rumble filled the quiet night.

Pulling out of the lot, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Junior was still at his post. But Mason was standing beside him now, with his hands in his pockets, and eyes locked on my car as I drove away.

Jesus. That was the last thing I needed to see.

Fourteen years, and the man had only gotten better. More handsome, more solid, more Mason. Stoic, unreadable, yet somehow more everything. And damn it if he didn’t still give me butterflies. The kind that twisted my stomach into knots.

Nine minutes later, I turned into mom and dad’s driveway. Mom’s little convertible was parked crooked like always, taking up more space than it needed. I slid my car into the spot beside it, killed the engine, and stepped out quietly while trying not to wake the neighborhood.

Inside, I shut and locked the front door behind me. I turned and nearly jumped out of my skin. Slayer stood in the entryway to the kitchen, with his arms folded, watching.

“Jesus,”

I gasped, and pressed my hand to my chest.

“Just Dad will do,”

he deadpanned.

I rolled my eyes and kicked off my shoes with more force than necessary.

“Ha, ha. You couldn’t save the dad jokes for tomorrow?”

He grunted.

“I wanted to make sure you made it home alright.”

“I’m thirty-one years old, Dad. I think I can handle myself. It was more than enough to have Junior watch me walk to my car.”

Slayer tilted his head.

“He didn’t walk you to your car?”

I frowned.

“Uh, no, Dad. It was already weird enough that he watched. Walking me all the way there would’ve been awkward as hell.”

He didn’t answer right away, just nodded once with his jaw tight.

“Well,”

I said with a yawn.

“I’m going to pass out for twelve hours. You can stand in the kitchen all night like a guard if you want.”

I leaned up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Night.”

“Good night, Ad,”

he said softly.

I went to the basement door, pushed it open, and crept down the stairs without turning on any lights. The shadows were familiar and welcoming. In the bathroom, I washed my face, then stripped off my clothes as I walked back toward the couch. I dug a black shirt out of my bag, tugged it over my head, and faceplanted onto the bed Mom had made while I was at work.

The sheets smelled clean, the pillow was soft, and exhaustion dragged at me. This wasn’t the life I imagined at thirty, but it wasn’t bad. I had a bed. I had food. I had a family who would always have my back, no matter how chaotic.

The only thing that wasn’t ideal was Mason.

But even that hadn’t been so bad tonight. If I could keep avoiding him, keep the distance, I’d be fine. Golden.

I exhaled, heavy and final, but before sleep took me, his face drifted through my mind. Mason, the same and yet more, was still the man who made my stomach flip fourteen years later.

I groaned into the pillow. Butterflies were the last thing I needed.

Sleep swallowed me anyway.