The living room lamp casts a warm circle of light across the couch and coffee table.My purse sits where I dropped it when I walked in.
For a minute, I just stand here.Breathing.Trying to settle the leftover adrenaline still buzzing under my skin.The anxiety still courses through my body as the fight, flight, or freeze instincts try to settle inside me.My mind just plays it over and over.
The bar.The man grabbing my wrist.The moment everything inside me froze.I hate that part.Hate that even after all this time my body still remembers what it feels like to be trapped.
I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as I drink.
And then, like it’s been waiting patiently all evening, another image slips into my thoughts.
Dark eyes.A scar through one eyebrow.A voice low enough to cut through a crowded bar without shouting.Let.Her.Go.
I close my eyes.That moment replays so clearly it might as well be happening again.The way the drunk man’s hand disappeared from my wrist.The sound of the punch.The crash of wood breaking.
The calm way Tucker—Mellow—stood there afterward like violence was just another language he spoke fluently.
I set the glass down.“Stop it,” I murmur to myself.Men like him are trouble.
Everyone in Freedom Falls knows about motorcycle clubs.Even if you’ve never met one of the members, you’ve heard the stories.
Fights.
Crime.
Chaos.
Freedom Falls apparently is home to the head of the Alabama Kings of Anarchy MC.The same Kings of Anarchy the man had the patches for.
The name alone should be enough warning.And yet, I can still hear the way he asked if I was okay.It was delicate.
Soft.
Careful.
Like the answer actually mattered to him.I rub my temples.This is ridiculous.He helped me.That’s it.A stranger saw someone in trouble and stepped in.End of story.
Except my brain refuses to cooperate.Because the truth is, most strangers don’t step in.Most people look away.I know that better than anyone.My phone buzzes on the coffee table, making me jump.
I grab it quickly so it won’t wake Quinn.Unknown number again.My stomach drops.For a second I consider ignoring it.
But if it’s Quinn’s father again—I answer because I can’t keep running from him.“Hello?”
A pause.Then a voice I don’t recognize.Female.
“Is this Lucy Coe?”
“Yes, what can I help you with?”
“This is Marlaina.I have Quinn twice a week in school.I teach music at the elementary school.”
“Oh—hi.”My shoulders relax slightly.
“I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
“Um,” I answer unsure where this is going.Confusion flickers through me.“I did.”
“Good.”Another pause.“Earl works for Crystal at the Black Rose Tavern.He called my brother said your name.Paul called me after looking into you and realizing you have a kid at my school.”
I blink.“Your brother?And looked into me?”My mind races.
