Page 10 of Clay

Morning comes fast, the sun slicing through the blinds too damn early. I’m up, though, adrenaline buzzing under my skin. I throw on my jeans, a black tee, my leather jacket, and I’m out the door, the Harley rumbling to life beneath me.

The ride into town is quick, the cool air waking me up, the road stretching out like an old friend. I don’t know what I’m doing, not really—just following the pull.

The diner’s my first stop, same as always, and I pull into the lot just as a beat-up blue Toyota rolls in from the other side.

Dylan steps out, and my heart kicks hard. The boy is in jeans and a faded green t-shirt, his dark hair loose and catching the light, and he looks like he belongs here—soft against the hard edges of this town.

He freezes when he sees me, those hazel eyes locking on mine, and I swing off the bike, boots hitting the gravel with a crunch.

“Hey,” I say, walking toward him, hands shoved in my pockets to keep from reaching out. “You, uh, grabbing breakfast?”

Dylan blinks, then nods, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. Just a coffee, maybe a muffin. You?”

“Same.” I hesitate, then take the plunge. “Wanna eattogether?”

His smile grows, just a little, but it’s enough to make my chest tighten. “Sure.”

We head inside, the bell jingling behind us, and grab a booth near the back. Jenny’s there, smirking like she’s got a front-row seat to a soap opera, but she takes our order—coffee and a blueberry muffin for him, coffee and eggs for me—and leaves us be.

Dylan’s across from me, stirring sugar into his cup, and I can’t stop watching him. The way his fingers move, the curve of his neck, the way he glances up at me through his lashes.

The spark’s still there, electric and undeniable, humming between us like it never left.

“So,” Dylan says, breaking the silence, his voice soft but steady. “You’re back in town for good?”

“Yeah,” I reply, leaning back, trying to play it cool even though my pulse is racing. “Been out two years now. The Wolf Riders keep me here. You?”

“Three months,” he says, sipping his coffee. “Left the city. Needed a change.”

I nod, and we fall into an easy rhythm—small talk about the town, the weather, nothing heavy. But under it, there’s more. Every look, every brush of his hand against the table, sets me off. He’s beautiful—more than that, he’sDylan, the boy I’d kill to protect, the one I let slip away.

I know one thing to be true. Our kiss wasn’t a fluke.

It was a fuse lighting up something I’ve buried too long…

I want him. Bad. Not just his body—though Christ, the thought of him under me, all that heat and softness, is enough to drive me crazy—but him.Allof him.

The laugh he used to let out when we’d ride too fast, the way he’d call me out when I was being an ass, the quiet moments when it was just us against the world.

I fucked it up once, cutting him off, thinking it was noble. But he’s here now, close enough to touch, and I’m not letting him go again without a fight.

Our food comes, and we eat, the conversation flowing, but my mind’s racing ahead. I need to tell him—about prison, aboutwhy I did what I did, about how he’s still the only thing that’s ever made sense.

Not here, though.

Not with Jenny eavesdropping and the morning crowd trickling in.

Soon though.

Dylan finishes his muffin, wipes his hands, and looks at me, that spark flaring in his eyes. “This was nice,” he says, and I hear the unspoken question—what now?

“Yeah,” I say, voice low. “It was.”

I want him. And I’m damn sure he feels it too.

But one of us is going to need to make the next move. And make it soon…

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