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CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

I FOUND HER outside, perched on one of the weathered picnic tables under the string lights strung across the yard. The soft glow cast jagged shadows across her face, but it didn’t hide the tight set of her jaw, the way her shoulders curled in like she was bracing for impact.

She was staring at the sky, knees pulled up, arms locked around them like she was holding herself together.

She didn’t flinch when I approached. Didn’t even turn her head. But I knew she heard me. Lucy always knew when someone was near.

“Knew you’d still be hidin’ out,” I said, leaning against the table beside her.

She finally looked at me, her eyes like ice shards. “I’m not hiding.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Her expression darkened. She swung her legs over the side of the table, putting space between us—a deliberate move. A warning.

“What do you want, Spinner?”

I dragged a hand down my face, already feeling the headache forming. “To talk.”

Her laugh was brittle, like broken glass. “We’ve got nothing to talk about.” She hopped off the table, turning her back on me like I was already dust in the wind.

I reached out, caught her wrist—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop her.

“Yes, we do.”

She went rigid, muscles locking up like a caged animal ready to snap. Slowly, she turned, her expression cold enough to freeze hell over.

“Let go.”

I did, but I didn’t step back. “I messed up, Lucy. I know that. But you can’t keep runnin’ from this.”

Her breath hitched, but she covered it quick, raking a hand through her hair. “From what?” she snapped. “From you? From your club? I’m not running, Spinner. I’m surviving. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah? Well, your kind of survival’s gonna get you killed.”

Her laugh was rough, unsteady, cutting through the thick night air. “And what the hell do you care?” Her voice sharpened to a blade. “Not after you doubted me. Not after you and your brothers made me feel like the enemy. Not after you—” She swallowed hard, fists clenching at her sides. “Not after you spent the night with Ashlynn.”

The accusation burned, but I held my ground.

“I was wrong to doubt you,” I said, my voice lower now, thick with regret. “You told me I’d regret it, and you were right. But I swear to you, Ashlynn never made it through that door. I didn’t touch her. I was fuckin’ drunk and stupid, but I want to fix this.”

“Fix it?” she scoffed, her laugh cutting and hollow. “You think a half-assed apology is gonna make this go away? That’s not how this works, Spinner. I don’t give a damn how drunk you were. Doubting me put the gun to my chest. Grabbing onto Ashlynn, walking out with her— that pulled the goddamn trigger.”

The words landed heavy, like a boot to the stomach, but I didn’t let it show.

“I can’t change what happened.” I stepped in, closing the space she kept trying to put between us. “I fucked up, Lucy. But you make me crazy. You always have. And I’ll be damned if I let that be the end of us. I’m not givin’ up on you. Not now. Not ever.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, hands trembling before she clenched them into fists. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m not deciding anythin’ for you,” I shot back. “I’m tellin’ you how I feel. But you’re too damn stubborn to listen. I love you, Lucy.”

Her breath hitched. Just barely. But I caught it.

“And what am I supposed to do with that?” she whispered, her voice raw, breaking at the edges.

“Whatever the hell you want.” My chest ached, my voice stretched tight. “But I’m not walkin’ away. Not again.”

The silence between us turned thick, charged. The air smelled like rain, like something about to snap.

Finally, she exhaled, her body sagging like she was exhausted from fighting me, from fighting us. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” she murmured, voice barely there.

“Maybe not,” I admitted, but I didn’t waver. “But I know what I want. And it’s you, Lucy. It’s always been you, and you damn well know it.”

Her eyes shined under the moonlight, but she didn’t let the tears fall. She never did. Instead, she took a slow step back. Then another.

“You don’t get to say that,” she whispered, her eyes glassy. “Not after what you did. Not after what you said in front of the whole damn club. You swore Ashlynn was just a friend, and you lied to me. Then you ran straight to her the second things got hard.”

I gritted my teeth, anger burning beneath my skin. “I never lied,” I growled. “I never wanted her, and I sure as hell didn’t run to her.”

She held my gaze, something flickering behind that guarded stare—hurt, doubt, something else I couldn’t put a name on.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark.

I stood there, fists clenched, cursing the whiskey that loosened my tongue that night, that made me say shit I couldn’t take back.

She wasn’t ready.

But I wasn’t giving up.

STUPID MEN. ALWAYS had an excuse, a reason for the dumb shit they did. Like that somehow made it all better. Well, I wasn’t buying it.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I reached for the door, ready to storm inside and get a hard drink when—just fucking great— she appeared.

I froze, instinct kicking in, and stepped back into the shadows before she could see me.

Ashlynn moved down the same path I’d just taken, head on a swivel, her eyes darting around like she was checking for shadows.

Yeah. She was spying.

The way she carried herself, the way she muttered under her breath, made my gut tighten. This wasn’t just casual sneaking around. She was up to something.

Instead of heading into the clubhouse, she veered around the side, slinging her bag higher over her shoulder, lips moving fast, like she was arguing with herself.

Then something slipped from her bag. A small, dark object tumbled onto the dirt path, landing just at the edge of the light from the clubhouse windows.

She didn’t notice.

I could’ve called out. Could’ve told her she dropped something.

But I wasn’t going to.

Ashlynn had never been anything but a bitch in my side. And right now, my gut told me she was the one with secrets.

I waited until she disappeared around the corner, then stepped forward and scooped up whatever she’d dropped.

A photo album.

I frowned, flipping it open under the dim glow spilling from the windows.

The first page was filled with old photographs. At first glance, they looked like childhood pictures, but as I turned the pages, a sick feeling curled in my gut.

Spinner.

Photo after photo, different ages, different places. Some he was alone, others with people—friends, maybe? Family?

But then I saw her.

A girl.

She stood beside him in more than one shot, sometimes younger, sometimes older, her features changing slightly with age, but the resemblance was clear.

If you looked close enough, if you really studied the shape of her face, the curve of her jaw, the shade of her eyes…

She looked an awful lot like Ashlynn.

The blood in my veins turned ice-cold.

Spinner told me he didn’t know her.

Not in any real way.

So why the hell did she have a book full of his pictures?

Footsteps.

I jerked my head up, heart hammering against my ribs. Spinner was coming straight for me, his face set in a hard, unreadable mask.

My anger boiled over. I shoved the album toward him, my voice sharp and demanding.

“Why didn’t you tell me you and Ashlynn were related? Why lie about it?”

He stopped dead, his brows slamming together in confusion. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” he growled. “I’m not related to Ashlynn. Who the hell told you that?”

My pulse kicked harder.

“This fell out of her bag.” I shoved the book into his hands. “Look for yourself.”

Spinner took it, flipping it open with a frown. His eyes moved over the pages, his expression shifting from confusion to something harder, something unreadable.

Then his gaze snapped back to mine, his grip tightening around the album.

“What the fuck is this?” he muttered.

That reaction? That wasn’t guilt.

That was real, raw confusion.

And suddenly, I wasn’t just pissed anymore.

I was uneasy.

MY EYES MOVED over the small photo album, flipping through the pages with stiff fingers, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Pictures of me.

Different ages. Different places.

And then I saw her.

Ashlynn.

Younger. Dark brown hair instead of the bleach blonde she had now. But there was no mistaking it—it was her.

My stomach twisted into a tight, ugly knot.

“That’s you and her, right?” Lucy pressed, her voice sharp, laced with accusation.

I stared at the photos, my mind scrambling to make sense of them, to place her in my past. Then it hit me like a fucking truck, slamming into my ribs with the force of something I should have seen coming.

“Fuck,” I snarled, my grip tightening on the album. “She’s that bastard’s daughter.”

Lucy frowned. “Who?”

I exhaled sharply, every muscle in my body locking up. ‘The man my mom married after my dad died.” The words burned like acid. “He had a daughter. Thea.”

Saying the name tasted foreign, like something I’d long since buried and forgotten.

“I only met her three or four times before I took off. She lived with her mom. I never thought about her again after I left.”

Lucy’s face twisted in horror, realization creeping in like a slow, inevitable poison. “Spinner… then why wouldn’t she tell you?” Her voice dropped, quieter now, edged with surprise. “It’s seriously fucked up that she wants to be your boyfriend.”

A fresh wave of rage crawled under my skin, burning hot and relentless. I clenched my jaw so tight my teeth ached.

“I don’t fuckin’ know what’s going on,” I bit out. “But I know one thing—my mom is stamped all over this mess.”

Lucy stiffened beside me, something shifting in her expression, something clicking into place.

“What does your mom look like?”

I didn’t answer right away. I flipped through the album, turning to the last photo, then held it up for her to see.

“This is her.”

Lucy’s eyes widened, her whole body going still. “I knew it,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

A chill snaked up my spine. “What do you mean, you knew it?”

She exhaled sharply, her grip tightening into fists at her sides. “That woman tried talking to me at a bar a week ago.” She turned, locking eyes with me, her expression hard as steel. “Why the hell would she bother me?’

A cold, humorless laugh ripped from my throat.

“Because she’s a controllin’ bitch.” I slammed the album shut, the sound loud in the heavy silence. My jaw flexed, tension crackling through my body like live wire. “That’s why Ashlynn won’t leave me the hell alone. My mom’s pushin’ us together.’

The realization hit like a slow, creeping poison, curling around us, tightening its grip.

Lucy’s gaze stayed on me, her expression troubled. “Then you better figure out what the hell she’s up to before this gets worse.”

I nodded once, a slow, deliberate motion.

Because Lucy was right.

And something told me this was just the start of what that bitch had done.