Page 35 of The Bastard's Lily
“No,” I lie.
“Mmhm.” He slaps my shoulder once. “It’s okay to be nervous, brother. You’re not just tryin’ to win a woman. You’re tryin’ to win a mother. That’s some real shit.”
“I’m not gonna fuck this up.”
Grimm’s voice softens. “I know. And just for the record, I always liked her. Even back then. She was tough. Smart. Had that look in her eye like she already knew how the world worked. You sure you’re ready for that?”
I glance down, jaw tight. “No. But I’m gonna be.”
Before he can answer, the clubhouse door creaks open behind us. It’s the prospect—Mikey. He’s got that same squinty-eyed look he wore during church last week. The one that says he’s beenthinking too muchfor someone who hasn’t earned the right to think at all.
“Where you two headed?” he asks, too casual.
Grimm answers first, tone clipped. “Out.”
Mikey hesitates. “Is it about that nurse?”
I freeze mid-step.
Grimm lets out a low whistle. “Boy, you donotwant to finish that sentence.”
But Mikey’s got that special kind of stupid where the warning just doesn’t land. “I’m just saying… disappeared then showed up with a kid claiming he’s yours. Doesn’t add up.”
My boots pivot before my brain can stop them. I'm in his face before he can blink.
“You got a patch yet?” I growl.
He swallows. “Not yet, but—”
“Then you don’t get a fucking opinion. Not about her. Not about me. Not aboutanything.”
He lifts his hands. “Didn’t mean it like that, Rook.”
“No? 'Cause from where I’m standin', sounded exactly likethat.”
Grimm steps up beside me, arms crossed. “This your first day with a death wish, or you been workin’ on it a while?”
Mikey’s face flushes. “Sorry. Seriously. Didn’t mean nothin’.”
I don’t say another word. Just hold his stare until he looks down, all that fake confidence shriveling like a busted tire. Then I turn and climb onto my bike.
Grimm follows, shaking his head. “Prospects these days… all mouth, no sense.” He mounts up beside me, smirk returning. “You sure you’re not nervous?”
I check the mirror, watching Mikey slink back inside. “Not about her,” I say, voice steady now.
Grimm kicks his engine to life. “Good. ’Cause that girl’s been through hell. You fuck this up again,I’mtaking her to dinner.”
I chuckle, low and bitter. “You wouldn’t survive five minutes with her.”
“You’re probably right.”
Our bikes rumble to life, and we pull out onto the road with my pulse hammering, heart in my throat, and her name echoing louder than my exhaust. Tonight’s not just a date. It’s a reckoning.
The gravel crunches under my tires as we roll into the little dirt pull-off in front of Calla’s cabin. It’s tucked back in the trees like it’s trying not to be noticed—quiet, cozy, small. Just like she always said she wanted.
Grimm’s already kicking his kickstand down when the front door flies open. Beau. Little legs pumping like hell, curls bouncing, shoes untied.
“Rook!” he shouts, launching off the porch like a missile.
