Page 28

Hammer

I tightened the carburetor bolt with practiced precision, my weathered hands moving through motions I could perform blindfolded after more than forty years of working on bikes.

The Softail’s engine had been giving Tank fits for weeks, but the problem was obvious to me -- timing was off, fuel mixture too rich.

Simple fixes for simple problems. If only the rest of my life could be diagnosed and repaired so easily.

The thought of Amelia waiting at home -- my home that was somehow now our home -- made my chest tighten in a way no amount of mechanical knowledge could fix.

Pegboards lined the walls, tools hanging in their designated spots.

I’d enforced that system with iron discipline -- any Prospect who put a wrench back in the wrong place quickly learned the error of his ways.

Order in the garage meant safety. Meant control.

Something I felt slipping through my fingers with every passing day of this unexpected marriage.

I glanced at the clock -- just past four.

Amelia would be finishing her shift at the diner soon.

The boys would be home from school. As much as I’d wanted to put them on lockdown, Amelia had argued that they needed things to remain as normal as possible.

And now, they’d be waiting, this ready-made family that had dropped into my life overnight thanks to a hacker kid’s idea of helping.

I still wanted to throttle Atlas for that stunt with the marriage certificate, but I couldn’t deny the results.

The boys were settling in. Amelia was safer. And I…

I was confused as hell.

She’d tried to seduce me the other night -- hell, she’d been trying for quite a few nights -- wearing those shorts that showed off her legs. She deserved better than some worn-out old biker with trouble even getting it up half the time.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, leaving a streak of grease I didn’t bother cleaning. My reflection caught in the chrome of the engine -- silver hair, weathered face lined with too many years of hard living. Christ, I looked every one of my sixty-one years today.

“You look like you’re trying to solve world hunger instead of fixing that carburetor,” a voice commented from behind me.

I didn’t turn around, recognizing Dice’s distinctive drawl. The kid was Spider’s son from the Hades Abyss MC, patched over to us after he fell for Flicker’s sister.

“Just thinking,” I grunted, reaching for the intake manifold.

“Dangerous habit,” Dice replied, moving around to lean against the workbench. His dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, his beard neatly trimmed unlike my wild silver mess. “Sarge was looking for you earlier. Something about parts for the Road King.”

“Already ordered them,” I muttered, focusing on the engine in front of me. “Should be here tomorrow.”

Dice didn’t leave like I’d hoped. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, studying me with an intensity that made my skin itch. “So,” he said finally. “How’s married life treating you?”

My hands stilled for just a moment before resuming their work. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Dice chuckled. “Man, you go from confirmed bachelor to instant family with a hot wife and two teenagers, and all you’ve got is ‘fine’?”

“What do you want me to say?” I growled, tightening a bolt harder than necessary.

“I don’t know. Maybe that you’re happy? Terrified? Ready to run for the hills?” He shrugged. “Anything other than looking like someone shot your dog while you’re supposed to be fixing an easy carburetor job.”

I straightened up, my back protesting after being hunched over the engine for hours. “It’s complicated.”

“Life usually is,” Dice agreed easily. “But Amelia seems good for you. Aura’s over the moon about having her around. And those boys --”

“Those boys need a father who isn’t pushing retirement age,” I interrupted, the words escaping before I could stop them.

Dice’s eyebrows shot up. “That what’s eating you? Your age?”

I grabbed a rag and wiped my hands, buying time.

Dice wasn’t going to let this go -- the younger generation never knew when to mind their own fucking business.

“She’s young, beautiful,” I said finally, my voice gruff.

“One day she’s gonna wake up and realize what it’s like being married to an old man. ”

“You’re not that old,” Dice countered.

“I’m sixty-one. She’s thirty-six.”

“So?”

“So?” I repeated incredulously. “So I was riding with this club before she was born.”

Dice considered this, then shrugged. “My dad and his wife have twenty plus years between them. They couldn’t be happier.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

I turned away, focusing on organizing my tools rather than meeting his eyes. “She didn’t choose this. She needed protection. For her and the boys.”

Understanding dawned on Dice’s face. “Ah. You think she’s just using you.”

“Wouldn’t you?” I challenged. “In her position?”

Dice leaned against the workbench, his expression thoughtful. “Here’s what I think. I think a woman who’s survived what she has doesn’t waste time with bullshit. She wouldn’t be playing house with you if she didn’t want to be there.”

I snorted. “She doesn’t have much choice.”

“Bullshit,” Dice said flatly. “Woman like that always has choices. She could’ve picked someone younger.

Could’ve kept running. Hell, she could’ve stayed in the duplex instead of moving into your place.

I bet she’d have found a way to convince Savior, at least until Piston and the Devil’s Minions are handled. ”

His words hit a nerve I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Amelia had agreed to move in with minimal protest. In fact, she’d asked to be mine.

Had made my house more of a home in three weeks than I had in years.

Had cooked meals, learned my schedule, asked about my day like she genuinely cared about the answer.

“I’ve seen how she looks at you,” Dice continued. “That’s not a woman biding her time until something better comes along.”

“What do you know about it?” I muttered, though the heat had left my voice.

“I know good women don’t come along every day, especially in our world.” Dice straightened up. “Don’t waste this chance at happiness just because you’re scared, old man.”

“I’m not scared,” I protested, the lie bitter on my tongue.

Dice just laughed. “Sure, and I’m the fucking Pope.” He slapped my shoulder as he walked past. “Take it from someone who wasted his chance once. You’ll regret the happiness you talked yourself out of more than any pain that might come from taking the risk.”

I watched him leave, his words echoing in my head. Was I really so transparent that a kid half my age could read me like a manual? The thought was almost as unsettling as the truth he’d laid bare.

I turned back to the Softail, but my focus was shot. All I could think about was Amelia -- the way she’d felt in my arms during that brief kiss in the kitchen, the hurt in her eyes when I’d pulled away, the quiet dignity with which she accepted my distance while making it clear she wanted more.

Maybe Dice was right. Maybe I was sabotaging the first good thing to happen to me in decades because I was scared of eventually losing it.

The thought sat heavy in my chest as I mechanically finished the carburetor adjustment, my hands working on autopilot while my mind wrestled with possibilities I’d refused to consider until now.

* * *

I set my tools back in their proper places, Dice’s words still bouncing around my skull like a stray bullet.

The kid had balls, I’d give him that. Not many brothers would call me out so directly.

I glanced at the ancient calendar hanging by the office door -- more for decoration than function since cell phones had made it obsolete.

A flyer was tacked next to it, bright colors advertising the county fair starting this weekend.

Ferris wheels, carnival games, cotton candy.

Normal family shit that I hadn’t thought about -- ever.

The kind of thing Amelia and her boys had probably missed out on, living under Piston’s control.

The kind of thing I could give them now, if I got my head out of my ass.

I stared at the flyer, something tugging at my chest. When was the last time I’d done anything just for fun?

When had Amelia’s boys last had a normal day out without looking over their shoulders?

The fair would be crowded, public -- my security instincts immediately started cataloging potential threats.

But with proper planning, with brothers watching our backs…

My fingers hesitated over my phone. What if she laughed at the idea? What if she saw it as obligation rather than genuine interest? What if the boys thought it was lame?

“Fuck it,” I muttered to the empty garage. I was overthinking this like some teenage boy asking for a first date. I hit Amelia’s number before I could talk myself out of it.

She answered on the third ring, her voice slightly breathless. “Hammer? Everything okay?”

Of course that was her first question. In our world, unexpected calls usually meant trouble. “Everything’s fine,” I said, my voice automatically softening in a way it only did with her and Aura. “Just finishing up at the garage.”

“Oh. Good.” She sounded relieved but confused. I rarely called just to chat.

I cleared my throat. “Thought maybe you and the kids might want to go to that county fair this weekend,” I said, trying to sound casual, like I suggested family outings every day. “Starts Friday. Runs through Sunday.”

The silence on the other end stretched just long enough for my stomach to tighten with regret. Then came her response -- a warmth in her voice I wasn’t expecting.

“A fair? The boys would love that. And so would I.” She paused. “Are you sure, though? It would be pretty public.”