Page 4

Kasen

My phone buzzed, jolting me from my daydream. Connor’s name flashed on the screen, along with a message: Looking forward to our date tonight! See you at 7 ?

I stared at the text, my finger hovering over the reply button. Tempest’s face flashed in my mind, his intense eyes boring into me. I shook my head, trying to dispel the image.

“Get it together, Kase.” I tapped out a quick See you then before I could change my mind.

I tossed the phone on my bed and stood, catching my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and I looked like I hadn’t slept in days. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

As I rifled through my closet, my thoughts drifted back to Tempest. The way his jaw clenched when he was angry, the raw power in his stance. I shivered, remembering how it felt to be near him.

“Stop it,” I muttered, yanking a dress off its hanger. “This date is about clarity, not Tempest.”

But even as I slipped on the dress, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was making a mistake. What if Tempest found out? The thought of his anger, that barely contained rage directed at me, sent a thrill down my spine.

I applied my makeup with shaking hands, trying to focus on Connor. Sweet, safe Connor. He was everything Tempest wasn’t -- stable, predictable, uncomplicated.

So why did that thought fill me with disappointment?

I grabbed my purse, pausing at the door. It wasn’t too late to cancel. To stay home, to avoid the mess I was surely walking into.

But I needed answers. And maybe this date would provide them.

With a deep breath, I stepped out into the night, the weight of my decision settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket.

I pushed open the restaurant door, the cheerful hostess greeting me a stark contrast to the knot in my stomach. My eyes swept the room, scanning faces, searching. For what, I wasn’t sure.

The door. My gaze lingered there, half-expecting Tempest to burst through, all barely contained fury and raw intensity. I could almost see him, leather-clad and scowling, demanding to know what the hell I was doing here.

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

“Um, I’m meeting someone.”

“Kasen!”

I jumped, spinning to face Connor’s warm smile. He stood, waving me over to a corner table.

“Hey,” I managed, forcing a smile as I slid into the seat across from him. “Sorry if I’m late.”

“Not at all,” Connor replied, his easygoing nature on full display. “I just got here myself. How are you?”

I nodded, my mind already drifting. “Fine, thanks. You?”

As Connor launched into a story about his day, a waitress approached. I ordered a latte on autopilot, barely hearing Connor’s own order.

“So,” he said once we were alone again, “I was thinking after this we could --”

The restaurant door swung open. My head snapped up, heart racing. But it was just a young couple, laughing as they entered.

“Kasen?” Connor’s voice pulled me back. “Everything okay?”

I blinked, focusing on his concerned face. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thought I saw someone I knew.”

Connor’s easygoing smile returned, and I felt a pang of guilt. He was nice, genuinely nice. The kind of guy who’d remember your coffee order and text you good morning. Nothing like Tempest’s brooding intensity, the way his presence filled a room with electric tension.

“So, tell me about your week,” Connor said, leaning forward with interest. “Any exciting plans coming up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my mind conjured an image of Tempest instead. What the hell was wrong with me? I was the one who’d run out on him.

“Oh, you know,” I heard myself say, the words coming out automatically. “Just the usual. Work, family stuff.”

Connor nodded, seemingly satisfied with my vague answer. “Speaking of family, how are your sisters doing? You mentioned they were thinking of moving, right?”

I blinked, forcing myself to focus. “Yeah, they’re… good. Still deciding.”

Not that my dad would let them move out easily. Which was why all three of us still lived at home.

My gaze drifted to the window, half-expecting to see a motorcycle roaring past. Tempest’s bike, all sleek lines and raw power. Just like him.

“And what about you?” Connor’s voice broke through my reverie. “Any big decisions on the horizon?”

I turned back to him, guilt twisting in my gut. Here was this sweet guy, genuinely interested in my life, and all I could think about was a man who probably saw me as a flake, a pain in the ass, and a child who’d run away.

“I’m… still figuring things out,” I admitted, and it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Connor reached across the table, his touch gentle as he squeezed my hand. “Hey, that’s okay. We’ve all been there.”

I nodded, trying to smile, but all I could think was how different it would feel if it were Tempest’s calloused hand gripping mine. The intensity, the danger, the thrill.

I cleared my throat, determined to give Connor a fair chance. “So, tell me about your work. Any exciting projects lately?”

Connor’s face lit up, and he launched into a description of his latest architectural design. I nodded along, trying to focus on his words, but my mind wandered. I couldn’t help but imagine how Tempest would react in this situation.

He’d probably scoff, those intense eyes narrowing. “Buildin’ fancy houses for rich folks? Waste of time,” I could almost hear him growl. “Real men build with their hands, not fancy computers.”

The restaurant buzzed around us, the clatter of dishes and hum of conversation a stark contrast to my inner turmoil. A server told someone at a nearby table about the specials, her voice sharp and clear, cutting through the din. It reminded me of how Tempest’s commands always rang out over the chaos of the clubhouse.

I glanced around, taking in the sleek modern decor, all clean lines and muted colors. It was nice, objectively speaking, but it felt… sterile. Nothing like the raw, lived-in feel of the Dixie Reapers’ clubhouse. There, every scuff and dent told a story. Here, everything felt too polished, too perfect.

A couple at the next table laughed, the sound grating on my nerves. I shifted in my seat, suddenly hyperaware of how out of place I felt. This wasn’t my world. These weren’t my people.

“Kasen?” Connor’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You okay? You seemed a million miles away for a second there.”

I forced a smile, guilt gnawing at me. “Yeah, sorry. Just… lost in thought, I guess.”

A server came over and took our order. It wasn’t long before our food and drinks arrived at the table. But I could barely taste anything.

I nodded mechanically as Connor launched into another story about a project he’d just finished. His words washed over me, barely registering. If Tempest were here listening to this, he’d probably be drumming his fingers on the table, impatient. Those dark eyes scanning the room, always on alert. Maybe he’d lean in close, his voice a low rumble. “This place ain’t us, darlin’. Let’s ride.”

“… and then the client decided to change the entire floor plan!” Connor chuckled, oblivious to my wandering thoughts.

“Mm-hmm,” I murmured, fighting to keep my expression neutral. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. My heart wasn’t in this. It wasn’t fair to Connor, and it definitely wasn’t fair to me.

Silence fell between us, heavy and awkward. I fidgeted with my napkin, tearing it into tiny pieces. The tick of the wall clock seemed impossibly loud.

“I should…” I started, then faltered. How could I explain? That every second here felt wrong? That my entire being ached to be somewhere else, with someone else?

Connor tilted his head, concern flickering across his face. “Everything all right?”

I opened my mouth, closed it again. The words wouldn’t come. I was stuck, caught between politeness and the overwhelming urge to bolt.

Connor cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. “Listen, Kasen, I’ve really enjoyed tonight. How about we do this again next week? Maybe that new Italian place downtown?”

My stomach tightened. The suggestion hung in the air, demanding a response. I could feel my pulse quickening, trapped between two impossible choices.

“I…” I started, my voice barely above a whisper. Tempest’s face flashed in my mind, but then guilt crept in. Connor was nice, normal. Safe. Everything Tempest wasn’t.

“Sure,” I heard myself say, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. “That sounds… nice.”

Connor beamed, oblivious to the war raging inside me. “Great! I’ll text you the details.”

I nodded, forcing a smile even though it felt more like a grimace. “Looking forward to it,” I lied, the words tasting bitter.

As Connor chatted about the restaurant, my mind drifted. I pictured Tempest, probably at the clubhouse right now. Would he be thinking of me? Did he even care that I was out with someone else?

I knew, with a certainty that scared me, no matter how many dates I went on with Connor or anyone else, my heart belonged to Tempest. It always had. But I needed time -- time to figure out if there was any hope for us, or if I was just chasing an impossible dream. I didn’t feel brave enough to face my father, or the rest of the club. And I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to stand beside the club’s Sergeant-at-Arms.

“Kasen?” Connor’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You seem distracted.”

I plastered on another fake smile. “Just tired,” I said. “It’s been a long week.”

I stood up, grabbing my purse. “Thanks for tonight, Connor. It was… nice.” The word felt hollow, but I forced it out anyway.

Connor rose, his smile genuine. “I had a great time, Kasen. Can’t wait for our next date.”

My stomach twisted. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. We walked to the restaurant exit, the cool night air hitting my face as we stepped outside.

“Let me walk you to your car,” Connor offered.

“No need,” I said quickly. “I’m just over there.”

I gestured vaguely, already backing away. Connor looked disappointed but didn’t push it.

“All right, drive safe. I’ll text you.”

“Sure thing,” I mumbled, turning away.

With each step toward my car, Tempest’s image grew clearer in my mind. His brooding eyes, the tension in his jaw, the raw power he exuded. My heart raced, and it had nothing to do with the man I’d just left behind.

I collapsed into the driver’s seat, letting out a shaky breath. The silence in the car was deafening.

“What the hell am I doing?” I whispered, gripping the steering wheel.

I closed my eyes, seeing Tempest’s face. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. The electricity crackling between us whenever we were close.

But then reality crashed in. He was the club’s Sergeant-at-Arms. Dangerous. Volatile. My dad would lose it if he knew how I felt.

I started the engine, my mind a battlefield of desire and doubt.

“I can’t keep living like this,” I muttered, pulling out of the parking lot.

As I drove home, all I could think about was Tempest. I needed to talk to him, but what would I say? After the way I’d run off, what if he’d decided he was done with me? It would break my heart if he rejected me, even though I’d essentially done that to him the day I’d driven off from his house. Technically, I’d said we needed to slow down. Then he hadn’t done anything more than follow me around. Not once had he tried to talk to me about our relationship. Living in this limbo was slowly killing me.

I turned toward the clubhouse. Whatever happened next, I needed to know where I stood with him. If I’d completely blown it, or still had a chance. The familiar rumble of motorcycles grew louder as I approached the clubhouse. It looked like Owen was showing off his new ride to Atlas and Reed. Naturally the three had to rev their engines, trying to see who had the bigger dick.

My hands shook on the steering wheel. What was I doing? This was insane.

I parked, heart pounding. The lot was full of bikes. Music and laughter spilled from inside. Looked like the guys were cutting loose.

I stepped out, legs unsteady. A few Prospects lounged by the door, eyeing me curiously. They’d only recently joined. Lucas, Caden, and Landon. All three were a bit younger than me. Since it was club business, I wasn’t entirely sure why they’d been allowed to prospect, but I wondered if it was the club’s way of making sure the Dixie Reapers would never die out.

I lifted my chin, striding past them with more confidence than I felt.

Inside was chaos. Bodies everywhere, drinking, laughing, yelling over the blaring music. The air thick with smoke and tension. Looked like more than just Reapers were present tonight. I saw a few people I didn’t recognize, and they weren’t wearing cuts, which meant they’d likely come from town. But if they were allowed inside, then Wire or Lavender had vetted them and Tempest had given his permission for them to come through the gates.

My eyes scanned the crowd, searching. There -- by the bar. Tempest.

He stood alone, nursing a beer. His posture rigid, eyes alert. Always on guard.

I pushed through the throng, pulse racing. Tempest’s gaze locked on me. His eyes widened, then narrowed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as I approached.

I swallowed hard. “We need to talk.”

He set down his beer, grabbing my arm. “Not here.”

He led me through the crowd, and out the door. The cool night air hit my flushed skin.

Tempest released me once we’d gone a few feet from the building, crossing his arms. “Talk.”

I opened my mouth, but words failed me. How could I explain the storm of emotions inside me?

“I can’t do this anymore,” I finally blurted. It hadn’t come out the way I’d meant, which I knew when he spoke.

“Yeah, you made that clear when you took off the other day. Go home, Kasen. Before someone tells your daddy you’re here talking to me.”

Before I could say anything else, he went back inside, leaving me alone in the parking lot. I hadn’t even had the chance to explain what I meant. The ache in my chest grew, and I had a feeling I’d just destroyed my relationship with him before it even began.