Rowan’s jaw tightened. “This is not what agreed too. This was not the deal.”
Lock replied his voice even. “Deals off. There will be no trade.”
Rowan’s gaze dropped to our hands. To the way Lock didn’t let go. To the way I didn’t pull back.
“You don’t get to make that decision, take something of mine,” Rowan said, frustration and anger bleeding through now, “and expect there won’t be consequences.”
Lock didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t even threaten.
“He’s not something,” he said. “And you don’t get a say anymore.”
The space shifted. I felt it before I saw it, the men were recalculating, when they realized this wasn’t a negotiation. It was a line drawn.
Rowan looked at me again, this time over Lock’s shoulder. The anger was still there. So was the disappointment. But underneath it, something gave way, recognition, maybe. Or the understanding that pushing this further would cost more than he was willing to pay.
“You’re choosing this,” he said.
I didn’t hesitate. “I am.”
No explanation. No defense. Just truth.
Rowan exhaled slowly. His hands curled at his sides, then loosened again. He looked at Lock like he wanted to rip him apart piece by piece, but he didn’t move.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
Lock met his stare. “For him, it is.”
Rowan held the look for another moment, then stepped back. You could tell he was angry, boxed in by the reality that no matter how furious he was, I was still his kid, and crossing that line wasn’t something he’d do.
He turned and walked away.
Lock didn’t watch him go. He turned to me instead.
“You okay?” he asked, softer now.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
His thumb brushed my knuckles, slow and grounding. “Let’s go.”
We walked back to the bikes together, shoulders brushing, steps in sync. No one rushed us or stopped us.
I climbed on behind him first, then reached for him. This time, he leaned back just slightly, like he was thanking me.
It occurred to me that he hadn’t known what I would say and he’d let me choose.
My arms around him tightened and he just started the engine and took us home.
17
LOCK
I didn’t go lookingfor anyone when we got back. We’d taken a longer route, just the two of us.
I like having him on my bike. Holding on to me.
I rode through the gates with Kellan pressed to my back, his arms around my waist like he owned me because he did, because he’d decided that was where he belonged now. Not because he had to. Because he chose it.
Even though I certainly didn’t deserve it.
