Her small hands pat my chest. “I hope you’re right.”

“There ain’t no other option, darlin’.”

Twenty-five minutes later, and Sonya leads Ryan down the stairs after helping her out with where to shower and finding what she needed. Knowing the woman, she probably stood guard at the bathroom door while Ryan cleaned up, just to make her feel at ease.

Sonya steps aside, a face-splitting grin on her mug, and watches for my reaction as Ryan walks over to where I’m leaning on the wall beside the pool table, waiting on my shot. I shift between my feet and try not to give away how affected I am seeing her like she is.

Her hair’s washed and pulled up into a high ponytail, showing off her long neck and the ink that adorns her skin. Sonya’s found her some clothes that fit her and instead of her usual all-black attire, she’s wearing a pair of dark denim jeans and a loose white T-shirt that shows the faint outline of her bra underneath. Fuck me. Her face has none of the usual smoky makeup, or the cherry red lips. Instead, she’s fresh-faced and her. Until now I’ve only seen her behind the tough façade she puts up for everybody’s benefit but her own. But like this? She’s just Ryan.

And Ryan’s beautiful.

“You look so different,” I blurt when she comes to a stop beside me.

Her eyes go to Callum, who’s watching us patiently, waiting on me to take my shot. He can keep waiting.

“I feel naked,” she whispers, moving her focus back to me. “I’ve never left the house without makeup before.”

“You look amazin’,” I tell her, leaning in and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Her face is flushed when I pull back, and her eyes dart nervously to Callum who’s not even watching anymore.

“She looks great in white, doesn’t she?” Sonya asks, giving me a wink behind Ryan’s back. “Had to wrestle the black sweatshirt out of her hands.”

Ryan turns and gives Sonya a smile. “Time for a fresh start, huh?”

Sonya laughs and steps over to pull Ryan in for a hug. She squeezes the life out of her, and then pulls back to hold her with both hands on her shoulders. “You remind me of myself a long, long time ago, which may or may not be a good thing, depending on how you like it.” She smiles and, letting go of Ryan, she heads toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “I’m prepping lunch for you lot if anyone wants to find me.”

“She’s lovely,” Ryan says, watching Sonya leave. “She made me tear up a couple of times.”

I look down, surprised. Sonya’s not usually the sort to upset people.

“In a good way,” she reassures. “She made me feel a lot better about my decision to do this. I told her how I felt about getting you in the shit, screwing everything up and that. She told me a few stories about things she’d done and that her ex-husband did, which made me feel better. I guess this kind of conflict isn’t out of the ordinary for you guys.”

I shrug, reaching out and running my finger along her exposed collarbone. “No, it’s not. But there’s a lot of variables that complicate this.”

“Like what?” she asks, turning her head to rest her cheek on my hand when my fingers creep closer to her neck.

“For starters, we’re talkin’ about me, a non-member, messin’ shit up for the club. It’s a bit different than when Sonya and her old man screwed up; they’re part of the place. Secondly, we need to work out how else we’re goin’ to achieve what I was there for, given I’ve kind of fucked the original plan up.” She closes her eyes briefly, wincing at my last point. “And third, now that King’s callin’ in Tuck, I can only guess that’s goin’ to put a fuckin’ huge spanner in things, mixin’ up two clubs who obviously don’t get along.”

“What does it mean for you though? They must be livid with you for getting me involved in this.”

“Yeah, they are.” I turn away and fidget with a cue on the wall rack. “And to tell you the truth, I don’t know what they’ll do. I messed up huge this time.”

“I don’t care what their fucking rules are around here,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve got a few things to say if they take this out on you unfairly. They can damn well listen, too.”

“Darlin’, it’s cute that you want to stand up for me, but I’ll take whatever they feel is fair punishment.”

“Puppies are cute, too . . . until the little fuckers are hanging off your pinkie finger with those sharp teeth.” She pouts, and it’s all I can do not to laugh at her.

“You’re fuckin’ adorable like a puppy, too.” I lean in and tuck a hand under her chin while I steal a kiss.

Callum clears his throat from the far side of the table. “A man could die old waitin’ for his next shot.”

“And a man could die young in our game, brother, so I’m takin’ what I can get while I can.”

Ryan smiles and backs away to lean on the wall and watch us play. She’s got mere minutes before her uncle arrives, and he’ll more than likely wipe that smile from her face. So I relish it, tickling her between shots and soaking up every damn musical note that comes out of her mouth when she laughs.

Because this right here? This is what it feels like to belong with someone.

I just hope she feels it, too.

CONFIRMATION

Ryan

The moment’s nice, as fleeting as it is. For a few brief minutes I feel like the woman I could have been. Watching the men circle the table taking shots, it’s easy to imagine that this is what my teenage years could have been.

If I hadn’t been too busy running from myself.

Bronx and the other guy, whose name I’ve since learnt is Callum, are down to the last two balls each before somebody has to sink the eight. Bronx leans over the table, his arm extended out along the cue, and I’d be stupid not to use the moment to admire his trim form. Well, trim isn’t quite the word for it. He’s built, and he clearly works out, but the width of his shoulders, the bulk under his T-shirt, and the narrow taper of his waist before his thighs fill out the denim he’s wearing tell me he’s serious about his sport. Working out isn’t just a hobby for him, or a necessity—it’s a passion.

It makes me wonder if he has room for anything else in his life. He says he does, but I guess we’ll only know for sure when this blows over . . . if it ever does.

His arm pulls back, and the sharp crack of the pool balls follows. His number four collides with the corner of the pocket, and bounces off the cushion as he rears back, snarling at the failed shot. “You sink this next one,” he tells Callum, “and I’m bringing in a distraction.”

The blond guy chuckles, rounding the table as he decides which ball he’ll take on first. “She ain’t here today, brother, so you’re out of luck.”

We never find out who wins. King breaks the moment, barreling out of his office and marching toward the entrance hall. “Eyes up. We have company.”

A young guy in a prospect vest runs across the common room, making ground to catch up to King as he disappears out the front of the building. I’m consumed with the activity that’s broken out around the place. Men snap to attention, their earlier relaxed demeanor replaced with keen focus as they move to clear the women and kids from the room. Within seconds it’s me, the only female left, and a handful of leather-clad men all standing with their heads high and chests pushed out.

“Are you ready?” Bronx asks close to my ear, his hand wrapped gently around my upper arm. “This is it.”

“I can’t believe he’s here,” I near whisper. “Twelve years and this is where I’ll get to see him. What if I don’t like what he has to say?”

“You deal, that’s what.” Bronx wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me around so I’m tucked into his side with my face against his T-shirt. “You say thanks to the guy for frontin’ up, and you deal.”