Footsteps scuff behind me. Knox's presence fills the doorway without effort.
"You disappear and they all start hovering," he says to James.
"You brought home a stray," James replies. "We check on strays."
The word stings. Then settles.
Knox closes the distance. "How's your head?" he asks me.
"Crowded," I say. "But better."
He searches my face. Whatever he finds confirms what he needed, and the tension in his shoulders eases a fraction.
"We'll finish eating, then I'll get you out of the noise for a while," he says.
"To… your house?"
"Yeah. You met the club. Now you get to see where I sleep."
James pushes off the wall. "I'll have Maggie pack you leftovers," he offers. "She'll say it's for court day. Really she just likes knowing her food is in your fridge."
"She's going to text pictures of pies, isn't she?" Knox says.
James grins. "Already picked which ones." He slips inside, leaving me alone with Knox and the hum of the fan.
"You're quiet," Knox says.
"Everyone in there looked at me like I was already part of it. And I keep—" I stop. Start again. "I keep waiting for the other version. The one where somebody tells me what it costs."
His jaw flexes. "Nobody in that room charges for giving a shit, Sloane."
"I know that. Up here." I tap my temple. "The rest of me is still running the old math."
He watches me for a long moment, then takes a breath and lets it go through his teeth. Knox doesn't try to fix it. He just stands there.
From inside, Maggie's voice rises sharply. "If any of you even think about starting a fight before dessert, I will throw this spoon and hit every single one of you."
Frankie laughs. East fires back. Malachi's rumble cuts across them, followed by a hush, then another wave of noise.
"Come on," Knox says gently. "Eat a little more. Then we'll go."
I follow him in. The chili is still warm. Frankie catches my eye from the bar and lifts her drink an inch. In a salute, or a dare, or both. I pick up my spoon.
Chapter 9
Sloane
Wedon'tstaylong;people have places to be.
Maggie shoves a container of chili into my hands, FOR COURT DAY scrawled on the lid, while James tucks in rolls and apples. Frankie points out her shop with a casual voice and serious eyes. East grins and promises to handle whatever we need. Nash tips his chin once, still watching.
By the time Knox steers me out the front door, my arms are full.
The street smells of warm asphalt and bakery sugar. The afternoon hangs sun-soft and slow. Knox opens my door, waits until I settle, then loads the food into the back seat. He pulls away, and the clubhouse shrinks in the rearview. The garagestays snug beside it with a half-open bay and East's laughter trailing after us.
"You okay?" Knox asks once we hit the main street.
"Everything's too bright. Too loud."
