If I don’t feed it, maybe it will burn out. If I treat it like nothing, maybe the club will too. If I don’t reach for her, maybe I won’t fuck up her life.
That’s the lie I tell myself while my chest tightens every time I pass that cabin and don’t go in.
That is the lie I tell myself while Bethany watches from across camp like she’s taking notes.
And that’s the lie that breaks, quietly, when I hear Brittany’s laugh die off behind me and realize I hate the sound of that more than I hate Bethany’s voice.
Because the truth is simple.
I can act like last night meant nothing.
The club might even believe me if I do it long enough.
But Brittany will not.
And neither will I.
Chapter 29
Brittany
Last night felt like something out of a dream.
Not just the sex. Not just the way Oaks looked at me like he’d been starving and I was the only thing he trusted enough to bite.
It was the normal part that stuck.
After, we drifted back into camp. Like nothing in the world had changed. Like I hadn’t spent weeks being watched, whispered about, treated like a warning label in a town that loves to punish women for being visible.
Lottie and Holler were still up, a small fire burning low, cards slapped onto a folding table with the kind of lazy rhythm that makes you forget danger for a minute. Holler told ridiculous stories about early days in the club, about busted runs and nights they hid bikes in barns, about Legend being young and mean and already acting like a president even when he didn’t have the title.
Lottie burned the first batch of marshmallows and blamed it on the men distracting her. She called the space between the two bikers which I was occupying, the taint, and it made Holler laugh so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
Oaks sat beside me, not touching at first. He acted like he was letting the camp air cool him off, like his body wasn’t still wound tight from what we did.
Then his hand found my knee.
Just a casual press. A steadying weight. Like he was anchoring me.
Then it slid to my waist when I shifted, and his fingers flexed once like he couldn’t help it.
Then my hand found his under the table, and my fingers laced through his as though it were second nature.
He kissed my temple when he thought no one was looking.
Holler absolutely saw.
He just pretended he didn’t.
For a few hours, it didn’t feel like a scandal. It didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like belonging. It felt like a small circle of friends. Normal.
That was the dangerous part.
This morning I wake up reaching for him.
And he’s gone.
The bed’s cold on his side, the sheet pulled tight like he never slept there, like last night didn’t happen, like we didn’t leave Holler and Lottie and recreate what happened earlier that day. Like I didn’t fall asleep with my cheek pressed to his chest and his hand resting on my back.
