Page 29 of Claimed By My Biker Daddies
She comes to me without complaint, oversized sweater swinging.
Marisa’s fingers trail over Isla’s hair as we pass.
The touch is careful. It makes my heart feel too big to fit under my shirt.
Upstairs the hall is warm and shadowed.
The quilts smell like cedar and winter.
I settle Isla into bed, tuck the llama under her arm, and hum until her breathing settles into that small steady rhythm I love.
The lamp blinks.
Once. Twice. It holds.
Deacon’s voice comes through the dresser radio, calm as a level line. “Freezing rain advisory just hit.
Thirty to forty minutes until glaze.
Grady is at the south lane with the plow.
Mae has the generator on and two extra beds made. Your call.”
I look at my girl, rosy and drowsy, then at the window where snow is starting to shine like glass.
This is why we plan in clear weather.
The Jackals keep a kid protocol every winter.
If ice moves in and we expect to run storm checks or pull a roof line, children sleep at Mae and Grady’s farmhouse in the valley.
They have the big generator, the wood stove that never quits, and a beagle that snores like a motorboat.
“Copy,” I say into the radio. “We move her now while the road is still safe. Tell Grady to hold at the porch.”
Roman answers from downstairs, voice low and certain. “We will run perimeter and roof after drop. Get her settled.”
Isla peeks up at me, eyes bright. “Night adventure,” she whispers, already awake again. “Like last winter.”
“Wake-up adventure,” I correct, kneeling by the bed. “Sleepover at Mae and Grady’s. Pancakes in the morning. Beagle patrol. You in, guerrera?”
She sits up solemn as a contract. “I am in. Do they still have the syrup that tastes like trees?”
“They do.”
I pull the small canvas bag from her dresser.
It lives there from November to March because the mountains do not care about best intentions. Pajamas with stars.
Wool socks.
Toothbrush with glitter.
The tiny flashlight she calls her saber.
I zip the bag and help her into boots.
She bounces once on the rug, then goes still so I can zip her jacket.
