“Logan!” she snapped. “I’ve been cooking for an hour.”

“Eat it for lunch,” he replied.

“You need to eat healthier,” she declared. “We both do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good for you and it’s a good habit to teach your daughters.”

“Think Deb’s got that covered, babe.”

She shut her mouth.

He had her there.

He let her go but grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door. “You got some tennis shoes or somethin’ to pull on?”

“Do I look like a woman who owns tennis shoes?”

He stopped and looked down at her. “You wanna get healthy and you don’t own tennis shoes?”

She looked to the wall.

He had her there too.

He started laughing again.

She looked back to him but only to glare.

“Babe, get some shoes,” he demanded.

“You go get Chipotle. I want spring rolls,” she replied.

“Get some shoes,” he repeated.

“Seriously, Low. This might be a disaster but it also might be really good,” she returned.

He pulled her close, bending his neck to get his face in hers.

“Get some shoes.”

“This is the bossy part I’m not fond of,” she announced.

He leaned back and lifted his brows. “You gonna send your man out in the cold alone to get his dinner?”

“And this is the heretofore unmentioned hot biker manipulation I’m not fond of.”

He again started laughing.

“Fortunately for you, I’m fond of that,” she said while he did it.

“What?” he asked, still laughing.

“You laughing.”

He stopped.

Then he remembered.

And once he remembered, he did something about it.

Because he’d come home but he hadn’t greeted his woman properly.

So he tugged her hand hard, felt her body hit his, and he saw to that.

When he was done, he was fighting going hard and had to keep doing it when he saw her face dazed.

“Turn off the shit, baby, get some shoes. Let’s go get dinner. Hear?”

“Hear,” she whispered breathily. Then she held his eyes and something drifted into them that, along with the sudden tightening of her body, made him brace before she said, “I found a counselor. I’m gonna go talk to her about what happened with Valenzuela.”

“You let me know when that shit goes down,” he stated immediately. “I’ll drive you.”

She relaxed in his arms.

She got tight again when he went on to declare, “You gotta know, we’re movin’ and we’re doin’ that soon.”

“We are?” she asked.

“Your neighbors suck.”

He’d told her about her neighbor witnessing her being taken and doing nothing about it.

So when he declared that, she relaxed again and added a smile.

“House hunting,” she murmured. “Fun.”

If she thought that, she was nuts.

He didn’t share that mostly because she rolled up on her toes, touched her mouth to his, then pulled out of his arms to do as he’d asked.

So they could eat it warm, they ate their burritos at Chipotle.

It was cold outside.

But the best she could do was flip-flops.

It was cute.

It was Millie.

And it had made him laugh.

EPILOGUE

Today’s No Different

High

“YOU SURE YOU wanna play it that way?”

Standing alone with Tack and Hound in the Common Room of the Compound, when Tack asked that question after High told him how he wanted things to go down, High only nodded.

Tack studied him for a beat.

Then he said, “Your call, High.”

High looked at him, then he looked at Hound.

It was done.

So he said, “Gotta go look at a house.”

He said it like he’d rather voluntarily be bolted into an iron maiden, which was to say he said it how he felt it.

Tack’s lips twitched.

Hound grinned straight out.

“Later, brothers,” High muttered, and jerking up his chin, he walked away.

Tack

“We gonna play it that way?”

Hound asked this question the instant the door to the Compound closed behind High.

Tack took his eyes from the door and looked to Hound.

“Your call, Hound.”

“They got to Zadie, they took Millie.” Hound told him something he knew.

Tack didn’t reply but he knew where Hound was leading.

“They feel pain,” Hound said low.

That was where he knew Hound was leading.

“High has chosen the righteous path. It’s the right path. But I know you, brother, your path has always been your own,” Tack returned.

“Our world, wrong done to our own, righteous takes a different meaning,” Hound told him.

Yeah.

Hound’s path had always been his own.

“I get you,” Tack replied.

“I’m maverick on this, Tack. Club stays clean.”

Tack turned fully to him, shaking his head. “No, brother. We’re always at your back.”

Hound held his gaze a beat before he whispered, “Not this time.”

Before Tack could say a word, Hound walked away.

He was uncertain if that was good or bad. Knowing what he now knew, he wondered if Hound enjoyed riding the edge because it made him feel something when he knew what he wanted to feel, what he wanted to have, he couldn’t feel and he’d never own.