Page 20 of My Protective Biker

Carina nods. "That's probably good for her. Being with people who understand."

"Yeah."

Silence settles between us, weighted. I can see her thinking, processing, and I should probably wait. Give her space to work through whatever she's working through.

I'm done waiting.

"I want you to stay," I tell her.

Her eyes go wide.

"Not just today. Permanently."

I watch her process that. See fear and want war in her expression, see her trying to figure out how to respond.

"Roan, I'm scared," she says finally. "Of the violence. Of what I saw last night. Of losing myself the way I did in Harrisburg. Of making a decision this fast when I've known you three days."

I nod because those fears are real and I'm not going to dismiss them. "The danger isn't going away. Last night is what this life looks like sometimes. The club comes first in certain situations and that's not negotiable."

She flinches slightly but holds my gaze.

"I can't promise you'll never see me bleeding again," I continue. "Can't promise there won't be more calls at four in the morning. Can't promise easy or safe or simple. This world is violent and illegal and most people would run from it."

"Then why are you asking me to stay?"

"Because I've been alone for twenty years." I shift to face her more fully despite the pull in my shoulder. "Built my whole life around being what Zoe needed and what the club needed. Stopped asking if there was anything I wanted for myself because there wasn't room for it. Then you walked into that clinic and I want things again. Want you here when I wake up. Want to not carry everything by myself anymore."

She's quiet, looking at me with an expression I can't entirely read.

"But you need to decide if you can handle this," I tell her. "If entering this world is worth it. And I won't push you either way. I'm laying out what it is and you get to choose."

"And if I decide it's not worth it?"

The question hits hard but I keep my voice steady. "Then I'll respect that. Won't make it harder than it needs to be."

She stands abruptly, wrapping her arms around herself. Walks to the window and looks out at nothing, her back to me.

"I need to think," she says without turning around. "Really think, not just react to everything that's happened in the last six hours."

"Okay."

"Can I use your shower? I need a minute to clear my head."

"Yeah. Towels are in the cabinet."

She leaves the bedroom and I hear her footsteps in the hallway, the bathroom door closing, the water starting a moment later.

And then I'm alone in my bed with a gunshot wound in my shoulder and no idea which way this is going to go.

I force myself up. The movement pulls at the injury and I have to stop for a second and breathe through it before I can keep going. Get to the kitchen and start the coffee, leaning against the counter while it brews because standing fully upright is taking more effort than I want to admit.

The house is quiet except for the coffee maker and the distant sound of the shower running.

Zoe's not here. Carina's in my bathroom trying to decide whether I'm worth the risk.

And I'm standing in my kitchen realizing that I've already decided she's worth it to me, but that doesn't mean I get a vote in what she decides.

The coffee finishes. I pour two cups, add cream to one because I noticed she took cream at dinner.