Page 47 of Wings
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, her acceptance washing over me like warm water. The collar seemed to pulseagainst my throat, reminding me that this was real. That I was claimed and cherished and safe.
"So," Stephanie said, grin turning wicked. "Hot biker Daddy, huh? How's that working out in other departments?"
"Steph!" But I was laughing, face burning.
"What? I need details! For science!"
"He's . . ." I bit my lip, searching for words that wouldn't combust on contact. "Attentive."
"Attentive," she repeated, deadpan. "Girl, you're glowing like you've been thoroughly attended to."
Seven AM finally arrived, the end of my first shift back blurring into the gray morning light that leaked through the hospital's glass doors. My feet ached in their sensible shoes, my lower back protested twelve hours of constant motion, and I could feel my ponytail listing severely to the left. But I was smiling. Actually smiling after a night shift, which felt like its own kind of miracle.
I pushed through the exit doors, breathing in air that didn't smell like disinfectant and desperation. The employee parking lot stretched before me, mostly empty at this hour except for the day shift starting to trickle in. And there, parked in the closest motorcycle spot like he'd claimed it by divine right, was Gabe.
He leaned against his Harley like every bad boy fantasy I'd ever pretended not to have. Black leather jacket despite the warming morning, dark jeans that fit in ways that should be illegal, boots planted wide. But it was his face that stopped me—the way it transformed when he spotted me, going from vigilant to soft in a heartbeat.
"There's my baby girl," he said as I approached, voice carrying that particular morning roughness that made my stomach flip.
"Hi, Daddy." The title still felt new on my tongue in public, even whispered, but the way his eyes darkened made it worth the blush.
He studied me with that intense focus, cataloging everything. "Good shift?"
"Really good," I said, and meant it. "Busy but manageable. Ate lunch and dinner. Even got a fifteen-minute break around four."
"That's my good girl." He pulled me in for a hug, and I melted into him, breathing in leather and soap and that scent that was just inherently Gabe. "Proud of you for taking care of yourself."
Into his chest, I mumbled, "The collar helped. Every time things got crazy, I'd touch it and remember."
His arms tightened. "Remember what?"
"That someone's waiting for me. That I matter."
He made a sound low in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a purr. "You ready to go home?"
Home. Not my apartment, not the clubhouse, just . . . home. Where he was.
"Beyond ready."
He helped me onto the bike, hands steady on my waist as I swung my leg over. Even exhausted, the position sent a thrill through me. There was something about being on his bike, pressed against his back, entirely at his mercy as we flew through the streets. Vulnerability and safety wrapped into one.
I wound my arms around his waist, cheek resting against the leather of his jacket. The engine roared to life beneath us, vibration traveling up through my thighs. He kicked off, and we were moving, leaving the hospital and its controlled chaos behind.
The morning air whipped past, cool enough to wake me up despite my exhaustion. I closed my eyes, trusting him completely as we leaned into turns. My hands found their wayunder his jacket, seeking warmth and the solid reassurance of his body.
We'd been riding for maybe ten minutes when he leaned back slightly, his voice carrying over the engine noise. "Been thinking."
"Yeah?" I had to speak directly into his ear, lips almost brushing the shell of it.
"My baby girl deserves a proper date."
My heart stuttered. "A date?"
"Not just clubhouse dinners and takeout in the nursery. A real date, out in the world." He paused at a red light, turning his head so I could see his profile. "Want to show you off."
The words hit me in competing waves—warmth at being wanted, terror at being visible. Going out in public as a couple meant risking recognition. Meant someone might see us and report back to Alex. Meant leaving the safety of Heavy Kings territory.
"Where would we go?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
