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)
The crowd disperses, brothers drifting back inside or to their bikes. Cambria and I stand for a moment, silent. The day feels emptier without Toon’s laughter, his swagger. But there’s something right about it, too. Like a chapter closing, making room for what comes next.
I take Cambria for a ride that afternoon. Just the two of us, no destination, no plan. The highway rolls out ahead of us like a promise. She wraps her arms around me tight, her head pressed to my back. The wind roars past, stealing every thought except the thrum of the engine and the warmth of her touch.
We end up at a lookout point we used to visit when I was a kid—before life got complicated, before clubs and wars and scars. The valley stretches below, all green and gold, the river winding through it like a piece of sky. Cambria climbs off the bike, walks to the edge, arms crossed against the breeze.
“I used to dream about views like this,” she says, her voice quiet.
I step behind her, wrap my arms around her waist. “You ever imagine you’d see it with a guy like me?”
She laughs, a soft sound. “Honestly? I didn’t think I’d survive long enough to see anything at all.”
“You’re here now.”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I am.”
We stand like that for a long time, watching the sun drift behind the hills, just holding on and breathing. No words needed. No future to plan. Just this moment, this peace.
Back at the trailer, she wears one of my shirts, legs tucked under her at the table, sipping coffee like she’s lived here forever. I watch her, amazed at how right it feels—how natural, how necessary.
“I’ve been thinkin’,” I say, sitting down across from her.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Uh oh.”
I grin. “Smartass.”
She smirks. “What’ve you been thinkin’?”
“I wanna make this real.”
“We have said it is already.” She sets the mug down, eyes wide. “Real? How much more real are you looking for?”
“We played pretend. We lied. Then we fell into somethin’ more than either of us planned for.”
She nods, a smile trembling on her lips.
I reach for her hand, callused fingers brushing hers. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Cambria. You showed me what I was missin’. Gave me family when I thought all I had was history.”
Her eyes shimmer, full of hope and fear and everything in between. “Drew...”
“You think maybe, someday soon... you’d wanna do this for real?”
She grins through her tears. “You gonna ask properly or just talk around it?”
I smirk. “Patience, woman. Barbecue’s comin’. Gotta make it count.”
She laughs, light and real and beautiful. “Then hell yes. I’m in.”
That night, after the sun sets and the club’s gone quiet, I sit outside on the steps of the trailer, Cambria beside me, our fingers entwined. The stars are bright overhead, the night air cool and clean. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I look over at her, the woman who changed everything, and I know—whatever comes, whoever tries to tear us down, we’ll face it together.
Because this? This is home. This is family. And I’m never letting her go.
FIFTEEN
CAMBRIA
Time moves even when we want to savor every second.
One month later, the world has stopped spinning so fast.
It’s not that life is easy—far from it—but something about the way I wake up with Little Foot’s arm wrapped around my waist and the smell of coffee drifting through the trailer makes everything feel… calm. Like I’m finally allowed to breathe.
I used to wake up with my heart already racing. Always worried. Always behind. Always tired.
But now—God, now, I wake up in a quiet that doesn’t feel empty. It feels earned.
I blink my eyes open, stretching slowly so I don’t wake him just yet. He sleeps like he’s fighting off the world in his dreams, brow furrowed, jaw tight, but when he’s awake, he softens. For me.
I still don’t know exactly when we fell in love, but I know the exact moment I stopped pretending and it became more.
It was the night I let him in. Really let him in. No more performance. No more lies.
And he stayed.
He always stays.
By 7:30, I’m out the door in jeans that still don’t quite fit right and a hoodie I stole from his closet. It smells like him even after three washes. I think I secretly like that.
Community college isn’t glamorous. It’s a small brick building off the highway with questionable vending machines and linoleum floors, but when I walk into that GED prep class, I feel like I’m finally doing something that belongs to me. Something that says I’m not giving up on my future just because my past tried to bury me.
The other students are a mix of age, some barely older than high school like me, others pushing forty, but everyone’s got the same look in their eye: determination with a side of don’t-ask-me-why-I’m-here.