Page 32 of Property of Booker

“I think I’m all out of questions,” I admit, feeling a sudden shyness. “I feel like I know enough to know that I want to keep talking to you.”

He smiles, a slow, genuine expression that reaches his eyes and makes my heart flip. “Good. Because I have a lot more questions for you.”

He gestures for the waitress, tossing a bill onto the table. He stands up, and I do the same, sliding out of the booth. The air outside hits us with a gentle breeze, a contrast to the diner, but as he takes my hand, I don't feel the need to look over my shoulder.

“Ready to go back?” he asks.

I look at the bike waiting in the parking lot, then back at him. “Yeah. I think I am.”

He leads me toward the bike, and as I slide onto the back, I realize my life is finally shifting. I'm not running away from something anymore. I'm riding toward a future I choose. It feels like exactly where I belong.

The ride back feels different. The road seems to shorten under the tires, and the bike hums beneath us with a rhythmic pulse. Booker keeps his speed moderate, and as we take the curves, I find myself leaning into him, trusting the smooth arc of the bike. I’m not clinging to him for dear life anymore. My hold is soft, relaxed, and sure. When we finally pull into the gravel drive of the clubhouse, I notice how the afternoon light is golden, bathing everything in a warm, inviting glow.

Booker kills the engine, and the hum dies away, leaving the compound in a peaceful silence. I unhook my helmet, shaking out my hair. I look at the familiar structure of the clubhouse, and a smile breaks free across my face.

We walk across the crunching gravel toward Slayer’s porch, Kolter sitting at his feet, inspecting a small motor part. The sight makes my chest ache in a way that feels surprisingly good. It’s a quiet, domestic scene, miles away from the chaos we left behind in the dark.

“Looks like you two had a productive day,” Booker exclaims as we get closer.

Slayer looks up with a slow grin and stands. Kolter jumps up, his eyes lighting up the moment he spots me. He doesn't bolt toward us this time. Instead, he walks with a new sense of confidence, his posture straighter than it was this morning.

“We did,” Slayer replies. “The kid has a natural mechanical aptitude. He figured out the carburetor linkage on my old bike in ten minutes flat.”

I step forward, a smile hitting my face. “Did you have a good day, Kolter?” I ask, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

He beams up at me, looking healthy and energized. “It was awesome. Slayer showed me how to use a wrench and Jersey made us lunch.”

I look between Kolter, Slayer, and Booker. I feel the warmth of Booker’s arm around my waist as he pulls me into his side. It feels good. It feels solid. I know the next chapter of our lives is starting right here.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Booker

I want to dive into this relationship headfirst, but I have to pump the brakes because Kendall needs time to figure out who she is outside of the chaos—both as a woman and a mother. She’s struggling with the idea of Kolter heading to the schoolhouse. Hell, she had a minor breakdown the day after we brought him back from Slayer’s, convinced she was failing as a mom just because we went on a date the day after he was rescued from that hellhole.

Kolter just rolled his eyes and told her to chill. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his kid-like behavior, but Kendall took it as a sign she was being too overbearing. It took me an hour of talking her down to get her to see that the kid is just tasting freedom for the first time. He’s trying to find his legs, same as her.

Kolter and I eventually teamed up and won that battle. He’s starting his first day, but Kendall is a ball of nerves as we walk toward the school.

“Are you positive we’re doing the right thing?” she asks, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

I lace my fingers with hers, giving her hand a firm squeeze. “We are, Kendall. You have to let him find his own way.”

“He doesn’t need to find a way out,” she counters. “He needs to stay right where I can see him.”

I nudge her shoulder with mine, a small smirk playing on my lips. “Mama bear is out in full force today.”

“I can’t help it, Booker. I just got him back. I’m not ready to let go yet,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

“Look at him, though,” I say, nodding toward the boy. “He’s been skipping since we left the clubhouse. He needs to be around other kids, babe. He needs to learn so he can grow up to be his own man. Can’t do that if he’s stuck inside all day.”

As soon as the porch comes into view, Kolter breaks into a full sprint. He leaps onto the wood with a heavy thud that echoes through the yard. He spins around to face us, his face split by a grin so big it actually looks like it belongs on a kid.

He throws his arms out and screams at the top of his lungs, “I’m finally going to school!” It’s the sound of pure, unfiltered joy.

Kendall stops in her tracks, her grip tightening on my hand as she watches him bounce. He isn't a soldier or a victim right now—he’s just a boy who’s excited to learn. I see the tears welling in her eyes, but she’s smiling. She looks at me, and I know she’s finally giving in.