“It never does. Not at first.” I reach out, touch her arm. “But give it time. Tomorrow, when you wake up and she’s still here—that’s when you’ll feel it. That’s when it gets real.”
She stares at me with those dark, wary eyes. I can see her fighting it—the urge to believe, the fear of hoping.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks.
“Because you saved my life.”
“I hit a guy with a bedpan. It wasn’t exactly medal worthy.”
“You saw someone in danger and you acted. Without hesitation. Without thinking about yourself.” I hold her gaze. “That’s not nothing, Isabel. That’s everything.”
Her eyes glisten.
“The man,” she says quietly. “The one who came for us. Bradley?”
“He prefers Brick. That’s his road name.”
“Brick.” She repeats. “He packed Lily’s things. Her rabbit, her clothes. Before any of it happened. He didn’t even know us, and he—” She stops, shakes her head. “Why?”
I think about Brick’s face when he’s walked through that door. The blood on his knuckles. The way his eyes have tracked Isabel’s every movement.
“Because that’s what this club does,” I say. “They protect people. Even when it doesn’t make sense. Even when they don’t know the full story.” I smile. “Especially then.”
Isabel is quiet for a long moment. Then she exhales, some of the tension bleeding out of her shoulders.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admits. “How to trust people. How to let someone else carry the weight.”
“Neither do I.” I shrug. “But I’m learning. Maybe we can figure it out together.”
“Maybe.”
“Get some rest. Lily’s going to need you tomorrow.”
Isabel nods slowly. Then, surprising us both, she reaches out and squeezes my hand.
“Thank you,” she says. “For everything.”
“Thank me by getting some sleep.”
“Yes ma’am.”
She slips into the room, closing the door softly behind her.
I stand in the hallway for a moment, listening to the quiet of the clubhouse settling around me. Somewhere, voices murmur. Somewhere, boots cross a floor. The sounds of people keeping watch, keeping safe, keeping each other.
This club is a family. It’s nice to be a part of it.
I turn to leave but stop when movement at the far end of the corridor catches my eye.
Brick.
He’s leaning against the wall in the shadows, arms crossed, those sharp blue eyes tracking Isabel until she disappears inside. Standing watch. Whether it’s to keep her safe or keep her from running, I can’t tell—maybe both.
His gaze flicks to me. A brief nod of acknowledgment.
I nod back, then head to my room, smiling.
11
