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“Tyler has been abusing me!” I yelled. My mother didn’t even look up. “You’re overreacting. He loves you.” That was how my first escape failed. Then that night, the demon lost control again. Just because I smiled at a male customer. So I ran again. No goodbye, no trail. With just a dying Honda and several dollars. "Car trouble, sweetheart? I can help." The biker’s hoarse voice snapped me back from the memory. I nodded slowly. Dark night. Empty highway. One bar of service. I didn’t want to be trapped here, especially when Tyler had been looking for me these five months. “There’s a bar in Crosswell. They're hiring waitresses. I can give you a ride there,” he said, staring at the fading yellow marks on my wrist. I don't know why I got on his bike. Maybe because at that moment, anything was better than being caught. Ridge of the Devil's Reach MC. I knew his name later. For the first time, I slept without fear. But tonight, my phone lit up. [Unknown Number] I forgive you. Just come home. I scratched the car key and rushed out, heart pounding. Did he find me? "What happened? You look scared." Ridge grabbed my wrist. "He... He probably has found me. I must leave." My teeth chattered. "Relax," he pressed me down on the chair. "You're in my town now, that makes you my business. No one can take you away, I promise." —————————— The glass hit the wall two inches from my head. I didn't move. I'd learned not to. Moving made things worse. "I saw you," Tyler said. "Don't tell me I didn't." "I was at work." My voice came out even. "You know that's where I was." "You were smiling at him." "He's a regular customer. I smile at customers. That's what waitresses do." He crossed the kitchen in three steps. He was fast for a big man. I'd made the mistake of underestimating that once. Just the once. I backed up until the counter pressed into my spine. Nowhere to go. "You think I'm stupid." Low and controlled. That was almost scarier than the yelling. "You think I don't see what's right in front of me." "Tyler, nothing happened. You're imagining things." Wrong thing to say. He pressed one hand flat against the wall beside my head. Not touching me. Not yet. Just making sure I understood there was nowhere to go. "You're mine," he said. "You understand that? You don't smile at other men. You don't talk to them. You don't look at them." I stared at a point past his ear. Kept my face blank. It was the only armor I had left after two years of this. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." I looked at him. His eyes were brown. I used to think they were kind. I couldn't remember what kind looked like anymore when I looked at him. "I'll quit," I said. "If that's what you want, I'll quit the job." His expression shifted. I watched it happen and knew I'd said the wrong thing. "So now you think I can't take care of you." His voice dropped. "You think you have to work because I don't provide enough." "That's not what I said." "It's what you meant." I tried to find a way through it. Some path that didn't end with me on the floor. But I was already too late. I was always too late with Tyler. The first hit sent me sideways into the counter. I grabbed the edge and held on. Pain tore through my side where last week's bruise hadn't healed yet. I heard myself make a sound I hated. Small and trapped. "You bring this on yourself," Tyler said. Calm. Like he was talking about nothing. "You know that. I don't want to be like this. You make me like this." I'd heard that so many times I'd lost count. I'd believed it for a while too. I spent months cutting myself down, trying to become the version of myself that didn't set him off. I quit the job I'd had long before I met him. I stopped seeing my friends because their presence made him suspicious. I put the red dress in a donation bag because he said it was inappropriate. And I still ended up here. Still ended up in the ER telling a doctor I fell down the stairs. "I know," I said. "You're right. I'm sorry." That was the fastest way to end it. Agree. Apologize. Say whatever he needed to hear until he was satisfied. He went to bed an hour later. Forgiven. Like none of it had happened. I sat on the bathroom floor with a bag of frozen peas pressed to my side and stared at my reflection in the mirror across from me. No marks on my face. He was careful about that now, after the ER staff started asking questions the last time. I looked at myself for a long time. Then I got up. Put the peas back in the freezer. Stood outside the bedroom door and listened until his breathing evened out. Then I went to the kitchen and pulled my bag from under the sink. (FIVE MONTHS LATER) The Honda died three miles outside Crosswell. One minute the engine was running fine, the next it just cut out. I pulled over to the side of the road and watched steam rise from under the hood. Perfect. Just perfect. I tried the ignition again. Nothing. Not even a click. My phone showed one bar of service and exactly seventeen dollars in my bank account. Not enough for a tow. Not enough for anything, really. I'd spent the last of my cash on gas two hours ago. I got out and looked around. Empty highway. Fields on both sides. No houses in sight. The sun was setting and I didn't want to be stuck out here in the dark. Not with Tyler still looking for me. I popped the hood and stared at the engine. I didn't know the first thing about cars, but maybe something obvious would jump out at me. It didn't. A motorcycle rumbled in the distance, getting closer. I straightened up and waited. The bike slowed as it approached, then pulled onto the shoulder behind me. The rider was big. Leather vest over a black t shirt, dark jeans, boots. He killed the engine and swung off the bike. As he walked toward me, I saw the patch on his back. A skull with wings. "Devil's Reach MC" curved over it in bold letters. A biker gang. Great. "Car trouble?" His voice was deep, rough around the edges. "Looks like it." I crossed my arms and stayed where I was. He stopped a few feet away. Up close, he was even bigger than I'd thought. Tall, broad, with dark hair and a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. His eyes weren't mean though. Just watching me. "You know anything about cars?" he asked. "No." "Mind if I take a look?" I stepped aside. "Go ahead." He moved to the hood and bent over the engine. I watched him check a few things, touch some wires, then straighten up. "Your alternator's shot," he said. "Battery's dead too. This car's not going anywhere tonight." I let out a breath. "How much would that cost to fix?" "Few hundred, probably. You got AAA?" "No." He studied me for a moment. I met his eyes and didn't look away. I was tired and broke and running from a man who'd put me in the hospital twice, but I wasn't going to act like some helpless damsel. "There's a motel in Crosswell," he said. "About three miles up the road. I can give you a ride." "I don't really have money for a motel right now." "There's also a bar. They're hiring waitresses. Owner's a friend of mine." I looked at the darkening sky, then at my dead car, then back at him. A biker offering to help me. Probably stupid to trust him. But staying out here all night was worse. "What's in it for you?" I asked. He shrugged. "Nothing. You need help." "People don't usually help for nothing." "I do." He walked back toward his bike, then glanced over his shoulder. "You coming or not?" I grabbed my backpack from the passenger seat. It held everything I owned now. Three changes of clothes, my toothbrush. That was it. He handed me a helmet when I reached the bike. "Ever been on one of these?" "No." "Hold on to me. Lean when I lean. Don't put your feet down when we stop." I climbed on behind him. The seat vibrated when he started the engine. I wrapped my arms around his waist. He was warm and solid, and I tried not to think about how long it had been since I'd touched another person without flinching. We pulled back onto the highway. The wind whipped past us and I held on. He didn't go too fast. Crosswell appeared ahead, a small town with a main street and not much else. He turned down a side road and pulled up in front of a bar called The Spoke. Motorcycles lined the front. Lots of them. All with the same patch I'd seen on his back. I climbed off and handed him the helmet. "Come on," he said, heading for the door. Inside, the bar was busy. Music played from a jukebox in the corner. Men in leather vests sat at tables drinking beer and playing pool. A few women too, some with their own vests. Everyone looked up when we walked in. I looked right back at them. I'd worked in bars before. I knew how to handle myself. The biker led me past them to the bar where an older man with gray hair and a thick beard was pouring drinks. "Hank," the biker said. "This is..." He looked at me. "Mira," I said. "Her car broke down outside town. You still need a waitress?" Hank looked me over. "You got experience?" "Yes." "You got a place to stay?" "Not yet." Hank rubbed his beard, thinking. "There's a room upstairs. Used to be storage. You can stay there if you work the evening shift. Tips are yours to keep. I'll pay you cash at the end of each week." It sounded too good to be true. But I needed this. "What's the catch?" "No catch," Hank said. "Ridge vouched for you. That's good enough for me." Ridge. So that was his name. I looked at him. He was watching me with those dark eyes, waiting. "When do I start?" I asked Hank. "Right now if you want. Apron's in the back." I nodded and followed Hank through a door behind the bar. Before it closed, I glanced back at Ridge. He was still watching me. He lifted his beer in a small gesture, then turned away. I took a breath and went to get the apron. This town, this bar, these bikers. I didn't know what I'd just walked into. But it had to be better than what I'd left behind. It had to be. II The spoke (Mira) The apron Hank gave me was stained and smelled like old beer, but I tied it on anyway. He showed me where the glasses were kept, how to work the ancient register, and pointed out the regulars I needed to watch out for. "That's Crash," he said, nodding toward a bald man with tattoos covering both arms. "He gets handsy when he's drunk. You tell him to back off, he will. If he doesn't, you tell me." "Got it." "Those two over there are Axel and Jace. Brothers. They'll try to get free drinks by being charming. Don't fall for it." I looked at the two men playing pool. One had long dark hair tied back, the other was shorter with a crooked grin. "Noted." "And Ridge is the president. What he says goes around here. You have any problems, you go to him first." President. So that's why everyone listened when he brought me in. Hank studied me for a moment. "You in some kind of trouble?" "No more than usual." He didn't push. "We close at eleven most nights. Might stay open later on weekends if it's busy." "Okay." "About the room upstairs. You can stay there as long as you need. No rent. Just work hard and we're square." I stared at him. "You serious?" "Dead serious. Been empty for years. Might as well have someone in it." "I can pay something." "Don't want your money. Just want a good worker who shows up on time." He looked at me. "That something you can do?" "Yeah." "Then we're good. Get out there." The bar was loud. Country music played from the jukebox, competing with pool balls cracking and voices talking over each other. I grabbed a tray and started making rounds. The first few tables were easy. Bikers drinking beer, barely looking up when I took their orders. I brought them their drinks and collected empty bottles without any trouble. Then I got to Crash's table. "Well, hello there." He looked me up and down. "You're new." "I am." I pulled out my pad. "What can I get you?" "How about your number?" "How about a beer instead?" The guy sitting across from him laughed. Crash stared at me for a long moment, then grinned. "Yeah. Beer. Make it two." I walked away before he could say anything else. When I got back to the bar, Hank was watching. "Handled that well," he said. "Not my first rodeo." I put in the order and moved to the next table. The brothers, Axel and Jace, were arguing about their pool game. "I'm telling you, that was a scratch," Axel said. "Your eyes going bad in your old age?" Jace shot back. "I'm two years older than you." "Exactly. Old." I cleared my throat. "You guys need anything?" Jace turned to me with that crooked grin. "Depends. You serving?" "Drinks. That's what I'm serving." Axel laughed. "She's got your number already, little brother." "Two beers," Jace said, still grinning. "Please." "Coming up." I liked them better than Crash. They were playing around, not being creeps about it. The night went on like that. I took orders, delivered drinks, and learned the rhythm of the place. Some of the guys tried to flirt. Most of them backed off when I didn't flirt back. The ones who didn't got a warning look from Hank or one of the other members. Ridge sat at the end of the bar nursing the same beer for over an hour. He didn't talk much, just watched. A few people came up to him, said a few words, and left. He had the kind of presence that made people pay attention even when he wasn't doing anything. Around nine, a woman with short red hair and her own club vest came in. She walked straight to Ridge and kissed his cheek. My chest did something weird. I ignored it. "Heard you picked up a stray," she said loud enough for me to hear. "News travels fast." "Small town, Ridge. And you brought a strange woman to the club bar. People talk." He didn't respond to that. She looked over at me. "She's pretty, I'll give you that." "Cassidy," Ridge said. It was a warning. She held up her hands. "I'm just saying. You don't usually do the knight in shining armor thing." "Her car broke down." "Right." She didn't sound convinced. "Well, I'm gonna go say hi. See if she's worth all this." She walked over before Ridge could stop her. Up close, she was older than I'd thought. Maybe forty. She had smile lines around her eyes and a scar on her chin. "I'm Cassidy. VP's old lady." "Mira." "You know what an old lady is?" "Girlfriend?" "Close enough. Wife without the paperwork." She leaned against the bar. "So. Where you from?" "Around." "That's specific." I didn't say anything. Cassidy smiled. "You don't trust easy. Smart. You'll fit in here just fine." "I'm just working." "For now." She glanced back at Ridge. "But he's already got that look." "What look?" "The one that says he's decided you're his problem to solve." She picked up a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the bar. "Fair warning, once Ridge decides something, he doesn't back down. Ever." "I don't need anyone to solve my problems." "Yeah, I said that too once. Fifteen years ago. Look how that turned out." She walked away before I could ask what she meant. I went back to work, but I kept thinking about what she'd said. Ridge didn't seem like the type to get involved in other people's business for no reason. Then again, I didn't really know him at all. Around ten, the crowd started thinning out. Hank sent me upstairs to see the room while things were quiet. "Up the stairs, last door on the right. Key's in the lock." I climbed the narrow staircase at the back of the bar. The second floor was quieter. I could still hear music and voices below, but it was muffled. The hallway smelled like wood and dust. The room was small. A bed, a dresser, a tiny bathroom with a shower that had seen better days. But it was clean, and the lock on the door worked. That was all I needed. I sat on the bed and pulled out my phone. Three missed calls from a number I didn't recognize. Tyler. He'd gotten a new phone. My hands wanted to shake. I didn't let them. I deleted the calls without listening to the voicemails and blocked the number. Then I turned off my phone completely. He couldn't track me if it was off. At least, I didn't think he could. There was a knock on the door. I froze. "It's Ridge." I got up and opened the door but didn't step back to let him in. He held out a bag. "Thought you might be hungry." Inside was a burger and fries from the kitchen downstairs. My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten all day. "Thanks." He nodded. "Hank says you're doing good down there." "I know how to work a bar." "Yeah, I can see that." He looked past me into the room, then back at my face. "You need anything else?" "No." "All right." He started to turn, then stopped. "Mira. You got trouble following you, you tell me. Sooner rather than later." I met his eyes. "I can handle my own trouble." "I'm sure you can. But you're in my town now. That makes it my business too." "I didn't ask for that." "Doesn't matter. Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be busy." He walked away before I could say anything else. I closed the door and locked it. Sat on the bed with the bag of food. Ridge scared me less than he should. Tyler had been charming at first too. Helpful. Protective. Look how that turned out. I ate the burger and told myself I'd leave as soon as I had enough money. This was temporary. Just a place to hide until I figured out my next move. I wasn't staying in Crosswell. I wasn't getting involved with Ridge or his club or any of this. I couldn't afford to. III First shift (Ridge) I walked downstairs and headed straight for the bar. Hank was wiping down glasses, his usual end of night routine even though we still had an hour to go. "She settled in?" he asked. "Yeah." I grabbed a water bottle from the cooler. "Good. She's a hard worker. Already turned down Crash twice and made Jace look like an idi0t. People are gonna come just to watch her work." "As long as nobody gives her trouble." "They won't. Not with you vouching for her." Hank set down the glass. "You sure about this, Ridge? We don't know anything about her." "I know enough." That was a lie, but Hank didn't push it. I finished my water and checked my phone. Two missed calls from my sister, Harlow. I called her back. "Finally," she said when she picked up. "I've been trying to reach you all day." "I've been busy." "Doing what? Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know about club business." She paused. "Mom wants you to come to dinner tomorrow night. She's making that chicken thing you like." "Can't. Got stuff to handle." "Ridge. You've missed the last three family dinners. Mom's starting to think you don't like her cooking anymore." "Tell her I'll come next week." "Tell her yourself. You know she's just going to call you in five minutes anyway." She was right. My mom didn't take no for an answer, especially when it came to family dinners. Growing up meant my parents had always made sure we sat down together at least once a week. That hadn't changed even after I'd taken over the club. "Fine. I'll be there." "Good. Bring someone if you want. Mom keeps asking if you're seeing anyone." "I'm not." "Well, she's not going to believe that unless you show up alone." Harlow laughed. "See you tomorrow. Seven o'clock. Don't be late." She hung up before I could argue. I pocketed my phone and looked around the bar. Things were winding down. A few guys were finishing their drinks. Crash had already left. Axel and Jace were still at the pool table arguing about who owed who money. Mira came down the stairs. She'd changed out of the stained apron into a black t shirt and jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She caught me watching and looked away fast. I needed to stop doing that. The rest of the night passed without incident. Mira worked the floor like she'd been doing it for years. She had a way of shutting down the guys who tried to flirt without being rude about it. Smart. You had to be tough in a place like this, but not so tough that you pissed people off. By eleven, everyone had cleared out except for Hank, me, and a couple of prospects cleaning up. "Go get some sleep," I told Mira. "You did good tonight." "Thanks." She untied the apron and handed it to Hank. "Same time tomorrow?" "Five o'clock," Hank said. "We get busy around six on Thursdays." She nodded and headed for the stairs. I watched her go, then caught Hank giving me a look. "What?" "Nothing," he said, but he was grinning. I flipped him off and left. The next day I spent most of my time dealing with club business. We had a shipment coming in next week that needed to be coordinated, and one of our suppliers was trying to raise prices. I made some calls, had some conversations, and by the end of it we had a deal that worked. By six o'clock I was back at The Spoke. Mira was already working, moving between tables with that same focused efficiency. She didn't smile much, but she wasn't rude either. Professional. I sat at my usual spot at the bar and ordered food. Hank brought me a burger and fries without asking what I wanted. He knew. "Your sister's here," he said, nodding toward the door. I turned to see Harlow walking in. She spotted me and grinned. "There you are," she said, sliding onto the stool next to mine. "Cassidy told me about the new waitress. I had to come see for myself." "Of course she did." "Don't blame her. You know nothing stays quiet around here." Harlow looked around. "Where is she?" "Working." "Obviously." Harlow ordered a beer from Hank. "So what's the story? Cassidy said you brought her here yourself." "Her car broke down. I gave her a ride." "And a job. And a place to stay." Harlow raised an eyebrow. "That's not like you." "She needed help." Harlow was only a year younger than me, with the same dark hair and our mother's green eyes. She'd always been the fun one in the family. The one who could talk her way out of anything. Mira walked over with her notepad. "What can I get you?" "I'm starving. Whatever he's having," Harlow said, pointing at my burger. "And another beer." Mira wrote it down and started to walk away, but Harlow kept talking. "Hi. I'm Harlow, Ridge's sister." "Mira." "That's a pretty name. Is it short for something?" "No." "Cool. So Cassidy told me your car broke down. That sukks. But hey, at least you found work, right? Hank's great to work for. My brother's not bad either, even though he acts like he's all serious and scary." "Harlow," I said. "What? I'm just being friendly." She turned back to Mira. "We should hang out sometime. I literally know everyone in this town and I'm always looking for new friends." "I'm kind of busy with work," Mira said. "Well, if you change your mind, I'm here all the time. Ridge pretends he doesn't like it, but he does." "I don't," I said. "See? Broody." Harlow waved her hand. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to work. But seriously, if you want to grab coffee or something, just let me know." Mira nodded and walked away to put in the order. "She's cute," Harlow said once Mira was out of earshot. "Single?" "Don't start." "I'm not starting anything. I'm just saying she's cute. And you're single. And you never bring anyone here." I didn't respond. Harlow had always been able to read me better than anyone else. It was annoying. Mira came back with Harlow's food and beer. My sister thanked her and immediately started asking more questions. Where was she from? Did she have family? What kind of music did she like? Mira answered in short sentences, giving away almost nothing. But Harlow didn't seem to mind. She just kept talking, filling in the silence with stories about growing up in Crosswell and all the ridiculous things our parents had done over the years. I watched Mira's face. She was listening, but she wasn't relaxing. She kept one eye on the room like she was expecting something bad to happen. Whatever she was running from, it had her on edge. After Harlow finished eating, she hugged me goodbye and made Mira promise to think about coffee. Mira didn't actually promise anything, but Harlow acted like she had. "She's nice," Mira said after Harlow left. "She's a pain in the @s." "That too." It was the first time I'd heard her joke about anything. I liked it. "She means well," I said. "But if she's bothering you, I can tell her to back off." "It's fine." Mira picked up Harlow's empty plate. "I can handle it." "Yeah. I'm starting to see that." She looked at me for a second longer than necessary, then walked away. I stayed at the bar for another hour, telling myself I was just keeping an eye on things. Making sure everything ran okay. Making sure nobody gave her trouble. Making sure she was settling in. But really, I was watching her. And I needed to stop. Because the more I watched, the more I wanted to know. Where she came from. What she was running from. Why she looked over her shoulder every time the door opened. None of my business. But I was starting to wish it was. IV Welcome to the family (Mira) I made it through the rest of my shift without thinking too much about Ridge watching me, or at least I tried not to think about it, because every time I walked past the bar I could feel his eyes on me, not in a creepy way but more like he was trying to figure something out. Good luck with that because I barely had myself figured out. By the time eleven o'clock rolled around my feet hurt and I smelled like beer and fried food, and Hank counted out my tips and handed me sixty three dollars in cash which wasn't bad for a Thursday night. "You're doing good," he said. “Keep it up and you'll make decent money here.” I headed upstairs, locked my door, and collapsed on the bed. My phone was still off and I'd been checking it every few hours, turning it on just long enough to see if Tyler had tried to call again, but so far nothing new, and I turned it off again and closed my eyes and sleep came fast. The next morning someone knocked on my door and for one second I thought it was Tyler and my heart went crazy before I remembered where I was. It was Harlow, Ridge's sister, standing there holding two coffee cups and a paper bag with donuts inside, walking in without waiting for permission the way people did when they'd already decided they were coming in regardless. "I brought breakfast," she said, setting everything on the dresser. “Hope you like donuts.” “You didn't have to do that.” "I know. But I wanted to." She handed me a coffee and sat on the edge of my bed like we'd known each other for years. “Black, right? You seem like a black coffee person.” She was right but I didn't tell her that. She apologized for bombarding me with questions the night before and said she got excited when someone new came to town, which didn't happen often because Crosswell was tiny and boring, and then before I could respond she told me her mom was having a family dinner that night and wanted Ridge to bring someone. "He's probably going to ask you," she said, pulling a chocolate glazed donut from the bag. “Why would he ask me?” "Because you're new and interesting and my mom's been on his case about dating for like two years. She thinks he works too much." Harlow grinned. “Don't worry, it's not a real date or anything. She just wants to meet you. Free food, and my mom's an amazing cook. She does this thing with chicken that will change your life.” “I barely know Ridge.” "That's the point." She finished her donut and stood up. “Just think about it okay? Ridge will probably ask you later anyway. And if he doesn't I'll drag you there myself.” She left before I could argue and I sat there eating a donut and thinking about it more than I should have for something I was planning to say no to. Ridge showed up at the bar around five while I was wiping down tables and asked if he had a minute and I said sure, and he looked uncomfortable which was strange because Ridge didn't seem like the type to get uncomfortable about anything. He confirmed what Harlow had already told me, that his mom wanted him to bring someone to dinner and Harlow had suggested me, and he delivered it the same way he delivered most things, which was directly and without apology. "It's not really my thing," I said. "Fair enough. Just thought I'd ask." He started to walk away and then stopped. “But my mom makes really good food and Harlow won't shut up about you if you don't show up. She'll probably come here every day until you say yes.” The smart thing would have been to say no, keep my head down, work my shifts, save my money, and leave when I was ready, but I was tired of being alone and maybe just for one night I could pretend things were normal. "Okay," I said. “I'll come.” He looked surprised. “Yeah?” “Yeah. But I don't have anything nice to wear.” “I can get something from one of the old ladies. Cassidy's about your size.” He stepped closer when I started to protest, not threatening but enough that I had to look up to meet his eyes, and he said let me help you in that tone he used when something wasn't actually a question, and my stomach did something I wasn't going to think about. At six, Cassidy showed up with a dark blue dress, simple with long sleeves and a hem just above the knee, and told me to keep it because she had a closet full of things she never wore. I changed and brushed my hair and put on what little makeup I had, and when I looked in the mirror I almost didn't recognize myself. Harlow had been right about one thing from the night before when she'd said Mira was short for something. It was Mirabelle, my grandmother's name, but I'd stopped using it years ago because Tyler had always called me Mirabelle, drawing it out like he was tasting it, and my parents called me Belle, and Mira felt like mine, something clean and separate from all of that. Ridge was waiting by the door at six thirty in dark jeans and a black button down shirt with his vest left behind, which made him look different, less like a biker and more like a regular person, and he looked me over when I walked up and said I looked good and I told him he did too and his mouth almost curved into a smile before he asked if I was ready. His parents' house sat on the edge of town, sprawling with too many rooms and a view of the mountains, and I looked at it through the windshield trying to decide if I could still back out before he told me his mom was going to ask a lot of questions but I didn't have to answer any I didn't want to. "Is that what you tell all the girls you bring home?" I asked. “I don't bring girls home.” “Ever?” “Not in a long time.” That made me more nervous, not less, and I got out of the truck before he could say anything else. His mother opened the door before we reached it, standing there in an apron with her hair pulled back and a smile like I was exactly who she'd been waiting for, and she hugged me before we were properly introduced and told me to call her Claire and pulled us both inside where the house smelled like roasted chicken and garlic. His father Victor was tall and gray haired and still built like someone who could handle himself, and he shook my hand and said Ridge never brought anyone around so I must be special, which made Ridge say dad in that flat tone people used when they wanted someone to stop talking. Dinner was exactly what I'd expected, Claire asking questions I answered without really answering, where I was from and whether I had family nearby and what brought me to Crosswell, and Harlow kept trying to change the subject while Victor laughed and told her to leave me alone. After dinner Harlow pulled me into the kitchen under the pretense of helping with dessert, and Victor took Ridge onto the back porch and I watched them through the window talking in the way fathers and sons talked when they thought nobody was paying attention. The rest of the evening was easier, pie and coffee and Victor telling stories about Ridge and Harlow as kids that made me smile more than I'd smiled in months, and Claire watched me the whole time with that particular look mothers had when they were deciding something without saying it out loud. When we left she hugged me goodbye and said I was always welcome, and I told her thank you and meant it in a way that surprised me. In the truck on the way back Mira was quiet and so was Ridge until I said thanks for inviting me and that I hadn't realized how much I missed normal until tonight, and he said I could come back anytime and that his mom had meant it. When we got back to The Spoke he walked me to the door and I paused before going in and asked him why he was helping me, because I'd been wondering since the highway and still didn't have an answer I believed. "Because you need it," he said. “That's not a reason.” “It's the only one I've got.” I looked at him for a long moment trying to figure out if he was lying and then I nodded and went inside, and I heard his truck pull away a few minutes later while I was sitting on the edge of my bed in Cassidy's blue dress thinking about chicken and family dinners and a man who pulled over on highways for strangers and called it the only reason he had. V Settling in (Mira) A few days passed since the dinner at Ridge’s parents’ house. Work at The Spoke was getting easier. I knew the regulars now, knew what they ordered, knew which ones tipped well and which ones acted like leaving two dollars made them generous. The routine helped. Pour drinks. Clear tables. Stay busy. Hank trusted me enough to leave me alone during lunch shifts while he handled errands around town. That felt good in a way I wasn’t used to anymore. Like maybe I was finally becoming useful somewhere without somebody holding it over my head afterward. What I still didn’t understand was Ridge. Every night around six, he showed up like clockwork. Same seat at the end of the bar. Same order. Burger, fries, water. He handled club business while he ate, talked to brothers who stopped by the bar, watched the room without making it obvious. But every few minutes his attention always came back to me. Checking. Making sure nobody bothered me. It should’ve made me uncomfortable. Instead it made me feel safer than I had in years. Harlow stopped by yesterday afternoon and stayed almost two hours talking about random things while pretending not to notice I barely spoke at first. Real estate drama, town gossip, her mother trying to redecorate the house again. Easy conversation. No pressure. I liked her. That probably should’ve scared me too. Today was my day off. I was upstairs folding laundry when my phone lit up beside me. Unknown Number. My stomach tightened immediately. I stared at the screen while it rang. Then I let it go to voicemail. The notification appeared less than a minute later. I should’ve ignored it. Instead I pressed play. “Mirabelle.” Tyler’s voice filled the room instantly. Every muscle in my body locked. “I know you’re out there somewhere thinking you got away,” he continued. “But you didn’t, baby. You can’t just leave me like that.” I stopped folding the shirt in my hands without realizing it. “We belong together. You know that. I’ve been asking around. Someone’s gonna know where you went eventually.” My throat tightened. “And when I find you, we’re gonna sit down and talk about this properly. I’m not angry anymore. I forgive you. Just come home.” The message ended. Silence filled the room afterward, but Tyler’s voice still felt stuck inside my head. I deleted the voicemail immediately and blocked the number. Then another text came through less than ten seconds later. Unknown Number. You really think blocking me changes anything? My stomach dropped. Another message appeared before I could breathe properly again. Answer the phone. Then another. I know you heard me. My hands started shaking hard enough that I almost dropped the phone. Jesus Christ. I blocked that number too. Another one appeared. This isn’t funny anymore, Mirabelle. I turned the phone off completely after that and shoved it deep into my bag like that would somehow stop him from existing. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. I sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed my hands against my knees while trying to steady my breathing. Tyler always got worse when he felt ignored. Worse when he thought he was losing control. And I left him. Of course he wasn’t stopping. I thought about telling Ridge. He told me already that if anybody came looking for me, he needed to know sooner instead of later. But what was I supposed to say? Tyler sent messages. Tyler made calls. Tyler acted obsessed. None of that was new. I’d survived worse than phone calls. Still, my chest felt tight enough that sitting in this room suddenly became impossible. I grabbed my hoodie and headed downstairs. The bar wouldn’t open for another two hours, but Hank was already there setting things up behind the counter when I walked in. He looked up immediately. “Thought today was your day off.” “It is.” His eyes stayed on my face another second. “You look pale.” “Didn’t sleep good.” That wasn’t fully a lie. Hank nodded once without pushing. “Want to help me inventory the stockroom?” “Yeah.” The work helped a little. Counting bottles. Checking boxes. Keeping my hands busy. Hank talked occasionally while we worked, mostly about supplier issues and somebody overordering beer again. Normal things. Safe things. My phone stayed off upstairs. Still didn’t stop me from thinking about it. By the time we finished inventory, my breathing finally felt closer to normal again. “Thanks,” I muttered. Hank shrugged. “Bar opens in an hour. You staying down here?” “Probably.” “Kitchen’s got sandwiches.” I grabbed one and sat at the bar eating slowly while the building stayed mostly quiet around me. For a few minutes things almost felt normal again. Then the front door opened. Ridge walked in earlier than usual. His eyes found me immediately. “Thought you were off today.” “I am.” “Then why are you here?” “Couldn’t stay upstairs.” Something in my voice must’ve given me away because his expression changed slightly afterward. More focused. He walked over and sat beside me without another question. Silence settled between us. Not awkward. Just there. After a minute he glanced toward me again. “You wanna tell me what happened?” “Not really.” “Fair enough.” I stared down at my sandwich another second before speaking anyway. “If somebody was looking for you,” I asked quietly, “how hard would it be to find you here?” Ridge turned toward me fully after that. “That depends who’s looking.” “What if they’re trying really hard?” His jaw shifted slightly. “This about whoever you ran from?” I nodded once. “They contact you?” “Yeah.” “What’d they say?” I swallowed before answering. “That they’re looking for me.” My fingers tightened slightly around the water bottle beside my plate. “That they forgive me for leaving.” Ridge stayed quiet for a second afterward. Then he asked, “They threaten you?” I thought about the messages. Answer the phone. You really think blocking me changes anything? This isn’t funny anymore. “Not directly,” I admitted quietly. “But enough.” I looked toward him after that. He already understood. That somehow made it worse and better at the same time. “You planning to go back?” he asked. “No.” The answer came fast. Certain. Good. Ridge leaned back slightly afterward. “Then we deal with it when they show up.” Not if. When. Like he already knew Tyler wouldn’t stop. Like he was already preparing for it. He stood afterward, grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, and placed it in front of me. “Drink something,” he said. “You still look pale.” I took the bottle slowly. “You don’t have to keep taking care of me.” “I know.” “Then why do you?” His eyes held mine steadily. “Because I want to.” Simple answer. Still hit harder than it should’ve. I looked away first. “Okay,” I murmured. “Okay.” He stayed beside me after that while the bar slowly started filling up around us. Brothers came in first. Then regulars. Music started playing low through the speakers while Hank moved around behind the counter getting things ready. Life kept moving. But my mind stayed stuck on Ridge’s words. We deal with it when they show up. For the first time since leaving home, I stopped feeling like I had to survive everything alone. And honestly? That scared me almost as much as Tyler did.