He looks at me for a long moment.“I don’t know,” he murmurs.“But I’ll be right there if you do.”
Heat blooms in my chest.And for the first time since the accident, I’m not scared of remembering bits and pieces.But I have a fear.I’m scared of rememberingeverything.
Especially him.
Thirteen
Ledger
I want her.God help me, I want her.Just not like this.
The new safe house isn’t much to look at from the outside — a plain one-story place tucked behind a storage facility on the far edge of Freedom Falls.No one outside the club knows it exists.Hell, some of thebrothersdon’t know it exists.
That’s the point.
The Kings learned a long time ago that big threats don’t announce themselves.They slither.They wait.They hunt quiet.
So we built places for hiding.For regrouping.For protecting our own when the world turned sideways.
Right now, Kelly is exactly that, someone we protect.SomeoneIprotect.
I kill the engine, scan the yard, and circle the truck before I even get her door open.The air tastes wrong.Heavy, thick with a storm coming.Wind full of that metallic tang that reminds me of nights in the barracks before a mission.
Kelly sits in the passenger seat, hands curled tight in her lap, jaw set even though I can tell she’s exhausted.
She puts on a brave face for me.
She always did.
I open her door and offer a hand.She stares at it for a beat like she can’t decide whether taking it makes her stronger or weaker.
Then she slips her hand into mine.
Warm.
Soft.
Familiar in a way I can’t say out loud.
“You okay?”I ask, keeping my voice low.
She nods.“Just tired.”
Tired.
That’s one word for it.
She’s been quiet since we left the cabin not scared quiet, but thoughtful.Lost in her head.And every time she looked at me, something in me tightened.Was she remembering?Does she know how much I hurt her?
I help her down and keep her tucked close as we move inside.
The moment the door shuts behind us, Kelly’s shoulders drop.She breathes out slowly, sagging against the wall.
“You good?”I ask again.
“I think so,” she whispers.Her eyes scan the room.“I remember something.”
My heart pounds, too loud in my ears.“What kind of something?”
