Page 17 of Held-

“I wasn't expecting the divorce to be quite so...public.” I dig the toe of my boot into the dirt, watching the small indentation it makes. “In Boulder, I was just another woman with a cheating husband. Here, I'm a cautionary tale.”

“Small towns,” Brayden nods. “They love to build you up just so they can tear you down.”

“Is that why you left?” I ask, genuinely curious about what transformed the skinny, troubled teen into this imposing man beside me.

He's quiet for a moment, staring out at the water. “I left because there was nothing here for me. My mom took off when Iwas sixteen, dumped me on my aunt. San Salona made it pretty clear I wasn't welcome.”

“I remember you in school,” I admit. “You were always in the back of the classroom, when you showed up at all.”

A sardonic smile twists his lips. “Surprised you noticed me at all, princess.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“And yet I’m going to keep doing it.” There’s a challenge in his gaze that makes my pulse quicken. “What are you gonna do about it?”

The air between us shifts, charged with something I can’t quite name. I should move away, put some distance between us, but instead I find myself leaning closer. “I could push you in the lake.”

He laughs—a real laugh this time—and the sound does something to my insides. “You could try.”

Our gazes lock, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. There’s something magnetic about him, something that makes the space between us feel charged. It’s been so long since I felt this kind of attraction—immediate, overwhelming, and entirely inappropriate.

“So,” I say, breaking the tension before I do something stupid like touch him. “Heaven’s Rejects. That’s your...club?”

“MC,” he says. “Motorcycle Club. And yeah, that’s us.”

“What exactly does a motorcycle club do?”

His mouth quirks up at one corner. “We ride. We look out for each other. Sometimes we look out for people who need looking out for…”

“And sometimes?”

“Sometimes we do things that good church girls like you don’t need to know about.”

I bristle at that. “I’m not that good.”

“No?” His gaze drifts over me in a way that makes heat bloom across my skin. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, Cece? Forget to put money in the collection plate? Say ‘damn’ in front of your daddy?”

“I married Ethan,” I reply without hesitation. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

Brayden’s expression shifts, the teasing glint replaced by something more serious. “That bad, huh?”

I pick up a small stone from the ground beside the log, turning it over in my palm. “You know what's funny? Everyone in town thinks I'm the victim. Poor Cece, married to a serial cheater. But the truth is, I knew. Maybe not about all of them, but I knew something was wrong, and I stayed anyway.”

“Why?”

I toss the stone into the lake, watching the ripples spread across the surface. “Because leaving meant admitting I'd made a mistake. Because it meant disappointing my father, who performed our wedding ceremony and told everyone what a perfect match we were. Because it meant giving up the life I thought I wanted.”

“What kind of life was that?”

“Safe,” I say immediately. “Predictable. The kind where you know exactly what's expected of you at every moment.” I glance at him sideways. “The opposite of this, I suppose.”

“And how's that working out for you?”

I consider his question, watching a bird skim across the water's surface. “Well, this morning I publicly humiliated the mayor in a coffee shop, and now I'm sitting by a lake with a man whose motorcycle club probably has a file with the FBI. So I'd say it’s going great.”

Brayden throws his head back and laughs—a rich, genuine sound that echoes across the water. “FBI file? Jesus, what do you think we do, rob banks?”

“Don't you?” I ask, only half-joking.