Page 14

Tessa

Another Friday night at Savage Steel.

It’s become part of my routine now, something I look forward to all week. Not just because of the music, the drinks, or the excuse to dress up a little, but because it feels like home. Like family.

This is the sixth party I’ve been to, and each one feels more natural than the last. Torrent and I have been together for almost two months already, though it somehow feels like both no time at all and a lifetime.

I still get butterflies when he walks into the diner, all commanding presence and lethal charm. I still crave his touch like an addiction I never want to quit. My heart still races every time his eyes lock with mine across a crowded room, like I’m the only one he sees.

These last two months? They’ve been the happiest of my life.

I feel safe with him, and for someone like me, who’s spent most of her life looking over her shoulder, that feeling is rare. Sacred.

A loud burst of laughter snaps me out of my thoughts.

I glance around and smile. The guys are loud, wild, and borderline inappropriate most of the time, but they’re good.

Loyal. And they’ve welcomed me with open arms. I get it now, what they mean when they say this club is family.

It’s more than a patch on their back or the parties. It’s a bond.

I dance, drink, joke with the guys, completely at ease in a world I never thought I’d belong to.

“Tessa!” Finch calls out, weaving through the crowd with a girl trailing behind him. “Come here. I want you to meet someone.”

He stops in front of me, practically beaming. “This is my best friend, Emerson.”

“So nice to finally meet you,” she says with a warm smile as she pulls me into a quick hug. “And please, call me Em.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I reply, eyes darting between her and Finch. “Finch, why haven’t I met your best friend before?”

Em lets out a laugh and smacks his chest. “Because I just moved here.”

“From where?”

“Georgia. Born and raised. First time away from home. It was time for a change, and Finch, being the softie he is, offered to let me crash with him until I get settled.”

Finch grins down at her, and something about his expression makes my chest tighten a little. I’ve never seen him look at someone like that before. There’s something more in his eyes. Something real.

“That’s really sweet of you, Finch,” I say.

He shrugs and tosses me a wink. “I’m a sweet guy. People forget that.”

Em rolls her eyes and then looks back at me. “So, you’re Torrent’s girl?”

The words make me smile. Torrent’s girl. I’ll never get tired of hearing it. Never stop feeling proud of it.

“Yeah,” I say, a little breathlessly. “I am.”

“I met him once. He seems like a great guy.” She pauses, curious. “How’d you two meet? Have you always been part of the club?”

My eyes drop without meaning to, a familiar reflex. “No. God, no. I’m a waitress at a diner. That’s where we met.”

She lets out a soft, surprised laugh. “Stepping into this world must’ve been a shock to your system.”

“Yeah,” I lie.

It wasn’t. Not really. If anything, it was like slipping into something I’d known once but had long forgotten. Something dangerous and chaotic that felt like home.

She studies me for a beat and then smiles again. “Listen, I love Finch, but I could really use a girlfriend. If you ever want to hang out. You know, coffee, shopping, just not talking about bikes and guns for an hour, I’d love that.”

I blink, then nod quickly. “Yeah, I’d like that too.”

Maybe it’s silly, but the thought of having a real friend, one who doesn’t come with conditions or secrets, is a big deal to me. Bigger than she probably realizes.

We exchange numbers, and just as I slip my phone back into my pocket, a voice rumbles behind me.

“There’s my girl.”

I turn as Torrent slides an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his chest. That familiar heat floods my body like it always does when he touches me.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he says, eyes roaming my face like I’m the only thing that matters.

“I’ve been right here,” I reply with a smile.

Finch clears his throat with a smirk. “Hey, Prez. You remember Em?”

Torrent’s eyes flick to her and soften. “Oh yeah. What are you doing here?”

“Needed a change,” she says simply.

Torrent looks down at me, his hand tightening on my hip, his voice low and meaningful. “I understand that.”

And I know he does. Better than most.

In this moment with his arm around me, surrounded by laughter, music, and new beginnings, I feel it in my bones.

I belong here.

With him.

Girls’ night.

The words still feel strange in my head, like they belong to someone else. Not me. Not the girl who’s spent most of her life keeping people at arm’s length. Not the girl who used to count silence as comfort.

But here I am, sitting across from Emerson in a cozy corner booth at a loud, neon-lit bar downtown, sipping on my second fruity cocktail, and actually laughing. Like real, chest-deep, belly-warming laughter that I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Okay, but you didn’t answer the question,” Em says, leaning in and narrowing her eyes at me over the rim of her drink. “When Torrent stepped into the diner that first time, did he just ooze biker bad-boy energy or was it more like a slow burn?”

I giggle. “Oh, it was full-on smolder. He walked in like he owned the damn place, all tattoos and shadows. Didn’t say much at first, just watched me. Eyes tracking every move I made.”

Em fans herself dramatically. “Damn. I’d have tripped and spilled coffee everywhere.”

“Almost did,” I admit, grinning into my glass. “I was rattled. But curious. He didn’t flirt like other guys do. He stared, like he already knew something I didn’t.”

She raises a brow. “And now?”

I bite my lip, cheeks heating at the flood of thoughts rushing through me. “Now he touches me like I’m a prayer he’s desperate to say out loud.”

Em lets out a soft, dreamy sigh, sinking back into the booth. “Girl, that is poetry. I need to find myself a biker.”

“You’ve got Finch,” I tease.

That gets me an eye roll. “Finch is complicated. He’s a mess with dimples and too many leather jackets. I’ve known him forever, so hooking up would probably be like kissing my brother.”

“But you’ve thought about it.”

“I plead the fifth,” she says, holding up her hands with a laugh. “Besides, this night is about you and me, not our overly hot, emotionally repressed men.”

“Fair,” I say, clinking my glass to hers.

We settle into an easy rhythm, gossiping, venting about work, trading childhood horror stories, and dissecting every guy in the bar that dares glance our way. It’s light and warm, a kind of comfort I forgot existed. For once, I’m not looking over my shoulder. I’m not worrying about what comes next.

I’m just here. With a friend. Laughing. Living.

Halfway through the night, Em grabs her phone and snaps a picture of us. Two girls, flushed from cocktails and the comfort of each other’s company, smiling wide and real. She types something before texting it to me with a smug grin.

I glance down.

Emerson: We’re officially best friends now. No takebacks. Love you, bitch.

I laugh, heart swelling. I type back one word.

Me: Deal.

When we step outside later, the night air is cool against my flushed skin. I wrap my arms around myself, but before I can even think about how I’m getting home, I spot him.

Leaning against his bike, arms crossed, that unreadable expression on his face until his eyes land on me. Then, he softens. Always for me.

I jog up to him, throwing my arms around his neck. “Hey, stranger.”

His arms cage around my waist, and he leans in to kiss my temple. “You have fun?”

“I did,” I whisper against his throat, breathing him in. “Thanks for letting me go.”

“You never have to thank me for having a life outside of me.” He pulls back, eyes searching mine. “But I’m glad you came back to me.”

I smile, tucking myself against his side. And as Em calls out a drunken goodbye from the sidewalk, I realize something that makes my heart skip.

This isn’t just happiness.

This is belonging.

The ride back to his house is quiet. Not awkward-quiet but comfortable. Torrent has one hand on the throttle, the other resting on my thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against my jeans. The wind whips around us, cool and sharp, but I don’t feel it.

All I feel is him.

When we pull into his driveway, the rumble of his bike fades into silence.

He opens the door and steps back to let me in first. I toe off my boots as the door shuts behind us with a soft click.

And just like that, the world disappears.

He takes my hand and leads me to his bedroom. His bed is rumpled, the sheets still carrying the shape of our last night tangled together. I turn to face him, his presence taking up the whole room, his eyes shadowed and heated as they roam over me.

“You looked happy tonight,” he says, voice low.

“I was happy.” I smile, stepping closer. “It was new. In a good way. Em is great.”

He brushes his fingers along my cheek. “You deserve good people in your life, Tessa.”

“I have them now,” I whisper. “I have her and I have you.”

His jaw flexes, and his hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me forward until our foreheads touch. “You have all of me. You know that, right?”

I nod, swallowing against the emotion tightening my throat. “I do. I really do.”

The air shifts between us, charged with something deeper than just desire, though that’s definitely there, simmering beneath the surface. But tonight, it feels more tender. More us.

He steps back just enough to strip off his cut, laying it gently over the back of the chair, then his shirt follows, revealing ink and muscle and everything that’s mine. I follow suit, tugging off my jacket and tank top until I’m standing in front of him in my jeans and bra, heart racing.

Torrent watches me, eyes hooded, reverent. “You always look at me like you’re seeing something more,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I am,” he says without hesitation. “I see you, Tessa. The real you. And she’s fucking beautiful.”

I step into him again, placing my palms on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “Then show me,” I whisper. “Not just with your words.”

His breath hitches. “You drunk horny?”

“No,” I say, my voice stronger this time. “I need you, Torrent. No distractions. No noise. Just us.”

He kisses me then, soft but sure, fingers threading into my hair, holding me like I might slip away. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. With him. For him.

Clothes fall away between kisses and stolen breaths. We sink into the bed like it’s a world made only for the two of us. He moves over me with worship in every touch, every kiss a vow, every sigh a promise.

“You’re beautiful, Tessa.”

It isn’t rushed. It isn’t wild. It’s slow and intimate.

This isn’t fucking, it’s something more. Something real.

This is love.

He continues at a slow, unhurried rhythm. His hands roam my body, touching me softly.

“Torrent,” I whisper, overcome with emotion.

His eyes lock with mine as he pushes back in slowly, and he presses a soft kiss to my lips.

“I feel it, baby.”

I never take my eyes off his. We stay connected in every way possible. Moving together, feeling everything together.

“I’m close.”

“I know you are. Let go, Tessa. Let go of everything,” he whispers.

My arms wrap around his neck, and I search his eyes, finding my future staring back at me. I’ve never felt like this before, but I know it’s true.

Before I can say anything, my release crashes over me and I fall fast and hard.

“Torrent!”

He continues to move, and before I can catch my breath, his release finds him.

“Oh, Tessa.”

I curl into him, his arms wrapped tight around me, our legs tangled under the sheets. My cheek rests against his chest, listening to the heartbeat that has become my favorite sound.

This is love. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t need to prove itself, it just exists, steady and true, in every caress, every whispered name, every breath shared between us in the quiet dark.

“Torrent?”

He moves just enough so I can see his face.

“I love you, Tessa.”

Tears prick my eyes because he feels the same.

“I love you, too.”

He kisses me and I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

For the first time in my life, I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.