Page 26 of Dagger

He steps back but doesn’t leave right away. “Text me when you’re home, okay? Just so I know you didn’t pass out halfway there.”

I smirk at him, more amused than annoyed. “Alright, Dad. Thanks for looking out.”

“Anytime,” he says, giving me a lazy two-finger salute. “Now go home and crash, Momma Bear.”

As I drive off, his figure disappears in the rearview mirror, but his words stick with me, pulling me back down to earth even as exhaustion tries to take over.

I pull into the driveway and park next to Sophie’s SUV, cutting the engine with a sigh. For a moment, I just sit there, my hands still gripping the steering wheel as I stare at the house. The faint glow from the backyard lights spills over the fence, and I can hear muffled voices through the crisp night air.

Grabbing my bag, I climb out of the car, the chill biting at my skin. Instead of heading inside, I take the familiar path around the house to the backyard. Laughter carries through the night, warm and easy, and when I turn the corner, I see Sophie and Tank sitting together on the patio.

Tank says something that makes Sophie throw her head back, laughing like she doesn’t have a single care in the world. He’s smiling at her like she hung the moon, his arm draped casually over the back of her chair. I pause, my feet rooted to the ground as I watch them.

A pang hits me—sharp and sudden. It’s not that I’m jealous of Sophie, not exactly. It’s more that I wantthat—someone to look at me like that, someone who’s mine. Not just anyone, but my someone.

I shake it off and keep walking, slipping past them as quietly as I can. They don’t notice me, too wrapped up in each other, and that’s fine by me. I make my way to the shed at the edge of the yard—my she-shed. It’s small and cramped, but for now, it’s my space.

I push the door open and step inside, flipping on the string lights that hang overhead. They cast a warm glow over the tinyloveseat, the cluttered desk, and the crib crammed into the corner. I drop my bag on the loveseat and sink down beside it, letting out a long breath.

The crib catches my eye, and my chest tightens. It’s barely squeezed into the space, and I know I can’t stay here much longer. It’s one thing when it’s just me, but me and a baby? There’s no way.

Tank’s been amazing, refusing to take any rent, which has let me save up enough for a deposit on a rental house or maybe an apartment. I should feel excited about starting fresh, but instead, I just feel... torn. Leaving Sophie and Tank feels like losing the only family I’ve got.

The buzz of my phone pulls me from my thoughts. I pull it out of my pocket and see Hawk’s name on the screen.

Hawk:Did you make it home, Momma Bear?

I stare at the message for a second before laughing softly. Whoops, I forgot to text him, like I promised.

“Oops,” I mutter, typing back a quick reply.

Me:Yeah, I’m home. Thanks for checking, Dad.

The response comes almost instantly.

Hawk:Just looking out for you, kid. Go to bed.

I smile, shaking my head as I set the phone down. Despite everything, the text leaves a warmth lingering in my chest. I stretch out on the loveseat, letting the quiet settle over me, and for the first time all day, I feel the smallest flicker of peace.

I push myself up from the bed, the weight of the day pressing down on me, and head to the shower. The hot water streams over me, washing away the tension clinging to my skin. I close my eyes, letting the heat soak into my muscles, but my mind refuses to stay quiet. It drifts back to the clubhouse, to the moment I saw Dagger again.

He looked the same, but different somehow. The sharp lines of his face were still there—the strong jaw, the intense eyesthat always seemed to see right through me—but there was something new. A heaviness in the way he carried himself, a quiet edge that hadn’t been there before. Like life had carved more into him in the months he’d been gone.

My stomach twists as I think about the way he looked at me, his eyes flicking from Hawk to my bump. Did he think Hawk and I were together now? Did he think this baby was his?

I lean my forehead against the cool tile, the questions swirling in my head like a storm I can’t outrun. Why did he leave without a word? Why didn’t he come back sooner? What was he feeling when he saw me standing there?

And then the what-ifs. What if I hadn’t gone to the wedding? What if that night had never happened? Would I still be in this mess of emotions, wondering where I stood with him?

I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they cling stubbornly. By the time I step out of the shower, the bathroom is thick with steam, the mirror completely fogged over. I stare at the blurred outline of my reflection for a moment, as if it might hold some of the answers I can’t seem to find.

Wrapping myself in a towel, I dry off and pull on my softest pajamas, the ones that make everything feel a little less overwhelming. They don’t solve anything, but they make me feel like I can breathe, even if it’s just for a moment.

Climbing into bed, I grab my phone, my fingers hesitating over the screen. I don’t even know what I’m looking for—some distraction, maybe, or a way to quiet my mind. But the memory of Dagger is still there, lingering, refusing to be ignored.

I stare at the ceiling, pulling the covers up to my chin as my thoughts spiral. So many questions, so many what-ifs, and not a single answer.

The quiet wraps around me, but it doesn’t bring peace tonight. It just leaves me with the ache of wondering what happens next—and whether Dagger is part of it.

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