Page 59 of Brazen Being It

She laughs, low and sweet, and I press my lips to hers, slow and deep. We get lost in each other, moving slow, the kind of love that blurs the line between bodies and souls. She whispers things against my skin—broken pieces of her past, her fears, her hopes. I catch every word, every tear, every tremor.

Afterward, we lie together, hearts still thudding, her head on my chest. The candle burns low, shadows dancing on the ceiling.

Toon leaves on a Sunday morning.

The sun’s barely up, mist hugging the grass, but every brother’s here, bikes lined up in the yard. There’s a weight to the air—a mix of pride, sorrow, and respect. Toon stands in the middle, his cut over his shoulder, helmet dangling from his fingers. Rex pulls him into a bear hug, Axel shakes his hand like he’s passing a torch. Even the prospects hang their heads, knowing something’s shifting.

Cambria slips her arm around my waist. I pull her close, grounding myself in her warmth.

Toon walks up, meeting my gaze head-on.

“You sure?” I ask, voice low so the others don’t hear.

He nods. “Gotta be.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Same, brother.” He hugs me—quick, rough, and real—then punches my shoulder hard enough to sting. “Take care of that girl.”

“Always.”

He slings a leg over his bike, throws on his helmet, and fires up the engine. The sound is thunderous, echoing through the yard. We watch him ride out, the sun glinting off his chrome until he’s just a memory and the wind.

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.

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