It’s on the back edge of the compound. Barely six months old. Small and mine.
Pops had it built when I started coming home more often. Didn't ask me. Just had Thunder and a couple prospects frame it out one weekend and told me the key was under the mat.
That's how Pops loves—he doesn't say it, he builds it.
A cabin with a lock, a porch, and enough distance from the clubhouse that his daughter doesn't have to sleep in the bunkhouse with a bunch of bikers.
One bedroom. One bathroom. A kitchen I never use and a couch I always end up falling asleep on. The bed isn’t bad, but it’s too comfortable.
I'm lying on that bed now. On my back.
Boots off, jeans still on, tank top still on, hair fanned out on the pillow in a way that would look good in a photo and looks like a mess in real life.
The ceiling is wood. Pine. I've been staring at it for forty minutes.
My hand is still warm.
That's the thing I can't stop thinking about. Not the bet. Not the words. Not the way every brother at that table watched me walk across the yard like I was either the bravest or the dumbest woman in Texas.
His hand.
The calluses. The grip. The quarter-inch shift of his thumb across the back of my hand that said more than eight years of silence ever did.
I press my palm flat against my stomach and close my eyes.
Feel the ghost of his grip on my skin and the heat that went through me when he held on past those few moments—not a handshake, not a deal, something else.
Something that started in my fingers and went straight down through my gut and settled in a place I haven't let a man reach in longer than I want to admit.
I think about his hands on the reins. On a rope. On a horse's neck, steady and sure.
I think about his hands on me.
I don't let myself finish the thought. Not tonight. Tonight I just hold the warmth of his grip against my belly and breathe.
My phone is on the nightstand. I pick it up.
Three new texts.
Brynn:
DID YOU DO IT?!?!?!?!
Cassidy:
Give me the tea, girl!
Presley:
Night, D. Sleep well.
I ignore all three, swipe to the camera roll, and scroll to the top.
She's there. She's always there.
Sorry kids but I had to leave. I'm going to visit some family and get a break from here.
Twenty-two words. Words that I feel like are lies now.
