"Because I've had months to process it. You're just now saying it out loud." I run my fingers through his hair. "And because I meant what I said. I love you. All of you. Grant and Dime. Cop and outlaw. Every version of you that exists."
"Even if I choose the outlaw life over being a cop?"
"Even then." I pull back to look at him. "I'll support you no matter what you choose, Grant. Because at the end of the day, what matters to me is that you're happy and you're safe and you're mine."
He kisses me then. It's deep and desperate, and I can taste the bourbon on his lips mixed with salt from tears I didn't see him cry. When we break apart, he's looking at me like I'm the most precious thing in the world.
"I love you," he says. "So fucking much, Allison."
"I love you too. Both versions of you."
We sit there for a long time, just holding each other. Eventually, Whiskers comes over and jumps into my lap, purring loudly as she settles between us. It makes us both laugh, and some of the tension eases.
"So what happens now?" I ask.
"Now we keep going. I keep working the case." He strokes Whiskers absently. "And you keep being the amazing woman you are while I try not to fuck everything up."
"You're not going to fuck everything up."
"You don't know that."
"I do." I kiss his cheek. "Because you have me, and I have you, and together we can handle whatever comes next."
"Together," he repeats, and there's wonder in his voice.
"Together," I confirm.
We stay like that for the rest of the evening, talking about his past and his fears and his hopes for the future. He tells me about his mom, about the cases he's worked, about the people in the club he's come to care about. And I listen, asking questions when I need to, offering comfort when he needs it, and loving him through every revelation.
Because that's what you do when you love someone. You stand by them, even when things get complicated. Even when they've been lying to you. Even when the future is uncertain and scary.
You stand by them anyway.
And as I fall asleep that night in Grant's arms, with Whiskers purring between us, I know that no matter what happens next, we're going to face it together.
That's all that matters.
Seventeen
Dime
Devil, Lee, and I are sitting on the outskirts of Laurel Springs, waiting for Ethan, the leader of the Rebels to meet us.
It wasn't as hard as we thought it would be to get in touch with them.
"You think they'll be on time?" Devil asks, as we all sit on our bikes.
"I'm gonna be real fucking surprised if they even show up," I admit, looking around at our surroundings.
Right when I say that, we hear motorcycles in the distance.
The sound grows louder, and I exchange a look with Devil. Lee's hand twitches toward his cut, and I can see the tension in his shoulders. Kid's nervous, and he has every right to be. This meeting could go sideways in about a hundred different ways.
Three bikes come into view, and I recognize Ethan immediately. He's in his early thirties, with gray already streaking through his beard and hard eyes that have seen too much. The two guys with him are younger, both wearing the Rebels patch on their backs. I don't know their names, and that's probably intentional on Ethan's part.
They pull up about twenty feet away, killing their engines but not getting off their bikes. Smart. Keeps them mobile if this turns into something they need to run from.
"Devil," Ethan calls out, his voice carrying across the distance. "Didn't expect to hear from you."
