Page 13 of My Hotshot

And I… wasn’t.

I turned back to the kitchen island and leaned on my elbows, letting out a long breath.

Life had been changing fast lately.

The divorce had knocked the wind out of me. Not because I didn’t see it coming, but because even when you’re braced for impact, it still hurts when you hit the ground.

Then Maggie died. My best friend. My constant. That loss hadn’t been braced for at all. It had just been a blindside, and I was still reeling from it.

Now Lottie was growing up faster than I could process. She was making friends, asking to go to movies and sleepovers, ready to drive and leave the nest, piece by piece.

And I was still… me.

Still figuring out who I was when I wasn’t someone’s wife or someone’s daughter or even just Lottie’s mom. I wouldalwaysbe her mom, but I was realizing I needed something else too. A hobby. A passion. A way to feel like I wasn’t just watching life from the sidelines.

I looked around our kitchen—bright and airy, the fruit bowl full, the paint samples still taped to the wall. It was a good house. A good start.

But it was time I figured out what came next forme.

Chapter Five

Dice

“You ever think things are gonna go back to the way they were before this whole Boone and Gibbs shit?” Aero dropped onto the barstool next to me with a tired groan.

Pirate was behind the bar, drying a glass with a rag that had seen better days. He didn’t say anything—just grabbed two beers from the fridge and popped the tops before sliding them across the bar to us.

“Dinner in ten minutes!” Adalee called from the kitchen. I could already smell the tacos. My stomach answered before I did.

I grabbed my beer and took a long pull before answering Aero. “You mean normal when we ate frozen pizza every night?”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, I don’t want to gothatfar back. I just mean back to where we could leave the clubhouse without making sure we’re packing and lookin’ over our shoulders every step.”

I glanced around the clubhouse. The walls were the same, the bar was the same, hell, even Yarder’s “No puking in the sink” sign was the same—but we weren’t. Not after everything with Boone and Gibbs. “Yeah,” I said with a nod. “That would be nice to get away from. But I’d still like to keep the three meals a day cooked by Adalee.”

“Facts,” Aero muttered with a grin. “I’m also pretty fond of Sloane keeping my bed warm.”

Pirate, ever the wiseass, leaned on the bar. “Seeing as she is yourwife,you might want to move that above having home-cooked meals.”

I shrugged and smiled into my beer. “Food is at the top of my list.”

“That’s because you’re the only one here who doesn’t have an ol’ lady,” Pirate said pointedly.

And I was more than okay with that.

Right now, all I could think about was Stretch and whatever hell he’d crawled into to try and save the club. I didn’t know what kind of deal he’d made or what line he’d crossed, but I couldn’t get it out of my head that he was doing it to protect us. Protect the club.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t tearing me apart.

I hadn’t called him again. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. I had no idea if that last call had gotten him in deeper or maybe painted a target on his back.

“Dice!”

Yarder’s voice thundered across the common room. I turned on the stool and dreaded whatever fresh hell was coming my way.

“Oh hell,” I muttered and took a long sip before I turned fully to face him. “Yeah?” I called.

“You’re off the hook with Leo and Brynn,” he said and crossed his arms as he stood in the doorway to the hallway. “Leo was only available to text, so I let him know what you did.”

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