Page 31 of Rebel

“Terrified.”She looked me dead in the eye.“Thought I’d lose myself in him.In this life.At the same time, I knew I didn’t want to be without him.”

That hit close to home.“And did you?Lose yourself?”

“No.Found myself instead.”She reached across and touched my hand briefly.“Never been happier than when I’m with him.It’s not perfect.It’s not easy.But it’s real.”

“How do you deal with… everything else?The club stuff?”

Jordan leaned back.“You find your place in it.Your boundaries.They respect that more than you’d think.”

“You heard Rebel.He says he can be patient.”

“And do you believe him?”she asked.

I thought about it.“Yeah.I do.”

“Then trust your gut.”She stood up.“These men aren’t saints.But the good ones -- the ones worth keeping -- they love differently than other men.Completely.When they decide you’re theirs, they’ll move heaven and earth for you.”

I nodded, absorbing her words.“Thanks, Jordan.”

“Anytime.”She picked up her thermos.“And, Rio?I meant what I said the other day.If you need to talk, about anything, you know where to find me.”

I watched her walk away, her shoulders straight, her steps confident.Havoc was a lucky man.

I sat there a while longer, letting Jordan’s story settle inside me.She’d gone from dying on the side of a road to finding a home, a family, a love that had lasted decades.I’d seen their kids around the compound.Pretty much grown-ass adults.It told me they’d been together a long while.

Maybe there was hope for someone like me too.

Standing, I continued my walk through the compound, feeling a strange new peace.The fear was still there.The doubts.But something else had taken root alongside them.

Hope.

* * *

I stood outside Rebel’s house for a minute, gathering my courage.The porch light cast a warm glow against the gathering darkness.

I knocked once, quick and decisive before I could second-guess myself.The door opened almost immediately.Had he been waiting?

“Rio.”My name sounded different on his lips.Softer.“You know you don’t have to knock.”

Rebel stood there in a black T-shirt and jeans, looking more approachable than the cocky guy he seemed to project around most people.Not that the danger had disappeared.It never did with him.It just simmered beneath the surface, controlled but present.

“Come in.”He stepped aside, and I felt his eyes on me as I passed.

We walked into the dining area where he’d set the table.Two plates.Two glasses.A bottle of whiskey alongside a bottle of wine.

“Wasn’t sure what you’d prefer,” he explained, following my gaze.

“Whiskey,” I answered.“Tonight feels like a whiskey night.”

A small smile touched his lips.“Woman after my own heart.”

He gestured for me to sit, then moved to the chair opposite mine.I sat with my back straight, shoulders tight.My hands found the edge of the table, fingers curling around it like I might fly away without something to anchor me.Across from me, Rebel leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, gaze never leaving mine.He poured two fingers of whiskey into each glass, sliding one toward me.

“You look ready to bolt,” he said, his voice low.

“I’m still here.”I took a sip, welcoming the burn.

“Why is that, Rio?”His question cut straight to the chase.That was Rebel -- no bullshit, no games.

---