Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
I walk away before she has a chance to respond wondering what the hell I’m doing.
Toon raises an eyebrow when I toss my duffel into the back of the truck with a little more edge than usual.
“You good?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You sure? You look like you’ve been chewing nails all morning.”
I hesitate, then say, “I’m thinking about bringing someone back with us.”
Toon straightens. “Wait. What?”
I glance back at the motel, my eyes flicking toward her room. “The girl from the other night. Cambria.”
“You serious?”
“She needs an out. And I’m giving it to her.”
Toon whistles low. “Little Foot, I’m your boy, but are you sure this is smart? I mean, you know the club ain’t gonna roll out a welcome mat.”
“They will see. She’s not coming as a stray. She’s coming as my old lady.”
Toon stares like I just spoke another language. “You mean—?”
I cut him off, “Yeah, I’m saying she’s mine. I introduce her that way, they don’t ask questions. She’s claimed.”
“You know Axel’s gonna flip. He trusts no outsiders.”
“Let him flip. I’m fully patched. I know the rules, I know the deal. She’s mine. They can’t and won’t deny her.”
He shakes his head slowly. “This ain’t about her. This is about you making a move.”
“It’s both. This is me, feeling something other than doubt. This is me trusting my gut.”
Toon studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Alright. You sure about her?”
“I’m not sure about anything. But I’m not leaving her in that hellhole.”
He sighs, grabs his pack. “Well, shit. Let’s hope she’s as tough as you think.”
Back at her door, I knock again. Nervous energy consumes me. Will she take a risk on me?
This time when Cambria opens the door, she already has her bag packed.
I blink. “You knew I was coming back.”
She shrugs. “You don’t strike me as a liar.”
“I’m a lot of things, a liar isn’t one of them,” I smile. “You ready?”
“I don’t know.” She glances at her mom—still passed out—and for a second, I see the war in her eyes. Guilt. Fear. Hope. All crashing into each other.
“You talk to your mom?”
She nods, “She told me not to come back,” she says quietly. “Said this life’s gonna eat me alive if I stay.”
“Then don’t stay.”
“I don’t know anything but this.”
“You like this life? You feel safe, comfortable?”
She shakes her head. “Momma said this is my only chance, don’t let her down. Make a life for myself like she never had.” She lifts her bag onto her shoulder taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
I get her bag loaded and she climbs into the rig, tucking herself into the sleeper area. We don’t speak much on the road. We don’t have to.
It’s not until we’re halfway through Tennessee that I glance back and see her face—eyes closed, relaxed into the bed, a soft, content smile on her lips.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her look like she wasn’t carrying the weight of the world.
And that’s when I know—bringing her back isn’t just about making a statement. It’s about giving her something she never had.
A fucking chance.
We pull into the edge of Catawba close to midnight. I can feel the weight of it as we near the compound—my past, my future, everything crashing together. Cambria clutches my hand tighter, nervous now, as we park the truck and move to my bike. I can feel it in the way her hand trembles in mine.
“You okay?” I ask genuinely concerned. I don’t want her to have regret already.
“I don’t know anyone,” she says.
“You’re mine. You’re family. They will get to know you.”
“You make it sound easy. What if I’m not what your family expects?
“They don’t need to expect you. They just need to accept you.”
“And if they don’t?”
“They will. It’s the code and life we live by.” And if they don’t—then I’ve got a whole new reason to burn this place down. “Let’s go home, shower and sleep. You can meet everyone when it’s a more reasonable hour.”
The door clicks shut behind us, the soft sound swallowed up by the quiet of my place. Cambria lingers just inside, her fingers brushing the hem of her t-shirt, eyes moving across the room like she’s memorizing the layout. Or maybe gauging the escape routes. She’s unreadable like that sometimes—still and beautiful, like a painting right before it tells you its story
“I know it’s not much,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, suddenly hyper-aware of every smudge on the wall, every corner that never quite gets enough light. “But it’s home.
She glances over her shoulder and smiles. “It’s you. That’s enough.
Something about the way she says it hits low in my stomach. I look away before it shows on my face, motioning toward the bathroom. “Shower’s yours first if you want it.
“Are you sure?
“Ladies first,” I say, half-teasing. “I’ve got towels in the cabinet. Help yourself.”