Page 47 of 12 Months of Mayhem

We’re the perfect pair.

Chapter Eight

St. Patrick’s Day is the one day of the year that always seems to bring out the best and the worst in people. For me, it’s always been a mix of celebration, tension, and anticipation. It’s a day when everything feels bigger, louder, and more alive, especially when it’s tied to the Outlaws MC.

This year is a little different. I’m not working at the bar. It is closed, and Brandy isn’t touring. Instead, the whole club is gearing up for a run, heading out on the open road with the wind in our faces. But this time, it’s not just about the club. It’s about Brandy.

I can feel her before I see her, like some kind of magnetic pull. She’s always been like that, a force of nature, impossible to ignore. The night we first met feels like it was just yesterday, and yet, here we are, still going strong despite all the chaos, danger, and constant challenges of living this life and her career.

Taking a deep breath, the smell of leather mixes with the crisp bite of the morning air. The sun has barely risen, but the town’s streets are already buzzing with life. There’s a quiet energy around St. Patrick’s Day, as if the city knows something big is coming. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the chaos, but either way, it’s always been a day of fun for the Outlaws.

I’m not sure what I’m looking forward to more, the run or the ride itself. Either way, it’s going to be one hell of a day.

Brandy climbs onto the back of my bike behind me. A shiver runs down my spine like it’s the first time. Her touch, scent, and familiar presence ease any tension within me. It’s been like that from the very moment we met.

“You ready for this, Whiskey?” Her voice is low, teasing, but there’s a hint of excitement in it too. She knows what today and this ride means.

Glancing back at her for a split second, I nod. “Ready when you are, babe.”

She laughs softly, her fingers curling around my waist, just like they always do. She fits against me like she was made to. The connection has always been instant, effortless. We’ve had our share of ups and downs, but this is something else.

I fire up the engine, the bike’s roar filling the air, and we take off. The wind picks up as we hit the open road, and Brandy shifts behind me, pressing herself closer as if she’s trying to absorb every inch of the ride. I don’t need to look at her to know she’s loving it—the feel of the road, the power of the bike, the freedom that comes with it all. It’s why we both love this life. Why St. Patrick’s Day has always been more than just a holiday for us—it’s a celebration of everything we’ve built, of everything we’ve survived.

The first few miles pass by in a blur. The road stretches out before us, and all I can focus on is the ride, the thrum of the engine beneath me, and Brandy’s arms around my waist, holding me tight. It’s a feeling of belonging, of knowing this moment is ours and no one else’s. Just her and me against the world.

As we ride farther into the hills, the city fades into the background, and the air grows cooler. We’re heading toward one of the Outlaws’ compounds for the start of the run tomorrow, and it’s got the usual mix of excitement and anticipation building in my gut.

I can hear her voice in my ear as she leans forward, her breath warm against the back of my neck. “You know, Whiskey,” she says, her words playful but laced with something deeper. “I’ve always loved St. Patrick’s Day. It’s always been… ours, hasn’t it?”

There’s no question about it—this day, this ride, it’s ours.

“Always,” I mutter, my hand tightening on the throttle as we speed down the road.

She chuckles, and I can practically feel the smile on her lips. “Good. Because I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

The rest of the ride is a blur, the landscape shifting around us as we speed down the winding roads. The Outlaws are gearing up for a big celebration, and I can already hear the roar of the engines and the guys’ laughter.

When we finally roll in, the familiar sounds of the club fill the air. There’s a buzz of activity as the rest of the crew gets ready for the festivities ahead. But for now, it’s just Brandy and me.

I shut off the engine and swing my leg off the bike, Brandy following my lead. She pulls off her helmet and shakes out her hair, letting the cool air catch it. She looks like she’s made for this life, made for me.

I reach for her, my hand finding hers instinctively. She doesn’t hesitate, slipping her fingers through mine like she was born to be here beside me.

“You good?” I ask, needing to hear it from her.

She meets my gaze, her eyes soft but steady. “I’m perfect.”

We walk together, hand in hand, as we head toward the center of the compound. The guys are already celebrating with laughter, music, and the sound of clinking glasses.

We find our place by the fire, the warmth of the flames offering a contrast to the crisp spring air. I sit down first, pulling her onto my lap, and we settle into the rhythm of the day. Brandy leans back against me, her head resting on my shoulder. I can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest, the beat of her heart syncing with mine.

This is everything I’ve ever wanted.

And it’s happening right here, right now.

We don’t need words. Not really. Not when everything between us is already understood.

We’ve survived the worst. We’ve fought our demons, faced the dangers head-on, and come out the other side stronger. And now, as another St. Patrick’s Day draws to a close, I know one thing for sure…

This is my happily ever after.

With her.

The End

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