When I walk toward the bar, his gaze burns across my back. Frankie and Darla are already posted up, but Candace is behind the bar. I almost stop walking. Three days ago she was curled on a borrowed bed letting me check her for fractures. Now she's upright, working, jaw set. Her shoulders are tense, hair piled in a hurried knot, the brace still on her wrist. She's wiping down glasses like they've personally offended her.
Ruby is beside her, a chaotic comet weaving between taps and bottles, bumping hips with Candace.
Maggie and James hover in the background. Maggie fusses with a foil-covered tray, and James leans against the counter with one big, steady hand on Kyle's shoulder.
"Look at you," Frankie says, eyes flicking over me. "You look five minutes from passing out."
"Thank you for your kindness," I deadpan, sliding onto the stool beside her.
"Hey," Darla says, squeezing my hand. Her rings glint under the lights. "How was work?"
"Long." I shrug. "We coded twice. One we got back. One…" I swallow. "We might be withdrawing care."
Candace's eyes soften in that way that makes her look younger. "That sucks."
"Yeah." Quieter than I mean it to be.
Ruby pops up with water. "Hydrate or die-drate," she says cheerfully.
"Please never say those words again."
She grins like she absolutely will.
The three of them start bickering about whether Darla should order mozzarella sticks, then Candace says, "Your tattoos are gorgeous."
I blink, caught off guard. "Thank you."
She nods toward Frankie. "Did Frankie do all of them?"
"Every single one."
Frankie lifts her chin proudly. "I'll do yours too."
Candace flushes. "I've… never gotten one."
Frankie leans in, voice wicked. "Then I'll pop your tattoo cherry."
Ruby, passing with a pitcher, cackles. "Malachi's popping something else!"
Candace nearly dies. Darla wheezes. I laugh so hard my eyes water.
"I hate all of you," Candace mutters into her hands.
"You love us," Ruby calls over her shoulder, then leans dramatically across the bar to whisper loudly, "I've heard once you've got a biker, you never go back."
"True," I say. "Trust me."
Ruby turns gleeful. "Let's ask Knox—"
"Ruby," I warn.
She wiggles her eyebrows.
We fall into a comfortable rhythm, louder and messier than girls' night but with the same warmth underneath. Drinks are poured, Maggie scolds East for stealing food, James laughs like it's the best thing he's seen in months. The guys filter in until the entire clubhouse smells of wood polish, smoke, and sweat.
The door opens again, and this time it's Victor. Dark suit that probably costs more than my first car, phone tucked against his ear, moving through the crowd like he owns the oxygen. Behind him, Leo and Arden are in their usual formation. Leo's loose and easy; Arden is silent as death.
"Kyle's big night," Leo says, grinning as he scans the room. His gaze snags on the bar, on Frankie specifically, and something warm flickers across his face. "Wouldn't miss it."
