A cold weight settles in my chest.
“I don’t want to,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I . . . I don’t want to hear it, whatever it is. I’m scared you’re about to say something that changes everything.”
His expression softens instantly.
“Eden,” he says gently, reaching for my hand. “Everything will be okay.”
I hesitate, glancing back at the stand, at the line starting to form again.
“I can’t just leave.”
“I’ll bring you back,” he promises. “Five minutes. Please.”
My heart is racing, but I nod.
He takes my hand, something he’s not done in so long. It’s warm and solid, and he leads me away. As we walk, I catch sight of the two women from earlier watching us now, heads tilted together, eyes following his grip on me.
Something inside me straightens, and I stand a bit taller.
He steers me into the pub at the edge of the green, the noise dulling the moment the door closes behind us. It’s cooler inside, dimmer and calmer.
He orders two lemonades without asking.
We sit opposite each other, the small round table suddenly feeling too intimate, too loaded.
He wraps his hands around his glass but doesn’t drink.
“I stepped down,” he says.
I blink. “What?”
“As President,” he adds. “I stepped down from the club.”
The words don’t land right away. They float between us, unreal.
“You can’t do that,” I say finally. “Kade, you’re a biker. The club is your life.”
“It was,” he corrects quietly.
My chest tightens. “They won’t let you just—”
“They voted already,” he says. “Diesel’s taking over.”
I shake my head, disbelief flooding me. “You built that club with your father. You fought for it. You bled for it.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you give it up?” My voice cracks. “Why would you walk away from the one place you’ve always belonged?”
He meets my eyes fully now. No armour. No title. Just Kade.
“Because I don’t belong there anymore,” he says softly.
I swallow hard.
“I belong wherever you are,” he finishes, “and wherever my child is.”
The room feels suddenly very still.
