Page 130 of What Lies Within

"I can't believe this is real." Maddie slides her palms into the back pockets of her jeans, shoulders rising with a sigh. "It's not like Daddy was always president, but I guess when he took over, I assumed it would be the grave that made him quit."

“Well, I’m glad that wasn’t the reason,” I deadpan, checking my pockets for everything I need.Cards, keys, phone—check.“Am I forgetting something?”

She chuckles, dragging her gaze from where Tyke climbs astride his bike. The worn leather of his vest is freshly conditioned, the black a little darker. But it can't erase the one small rectangle that isn't as weathered as the rest—the space where hisPresidentbadge sat for so many years.

“Other than this.” Maddie lifts the gleaming new helmet from the table and hands it to me. “Nope.” She collects hers as well and leads us toward the garage. “You nervous?”

"What do you think?" I've known this day is coming for weeks, and I still struggle to fathom its reality.

We’re heading out to pick up a new bike from the dealership.Mynew bike.

“You’ll be fine,” Mads assures as we reach Tyke’s position before the open roller doors. “Remember to breathe.”

It's been her mantra since her uncle took her before Christmas—so much so that she had it inked along her forearm a few weeks back.

I fill my lungs, locking gazes with the man who quietly waits on me to get my shit together.As though that job ever stops.“Hey.”

"You sure you got everything?" He hitches an eyebrow, his tone teasing.

"If we get there and I'm missing something crucial, I blame you."

“Blame Digger.” He chuckles. “He’s the reason you’re runnin’ late today, not me.”

"Yeah, well, he had to make up for not coming along somehow." I get it. They have club business to take care of, but I hoped to ride home withbothmy men by my side. "Anyway. It would have been quicker if I'd remembered where I'd left these." I lift the gloves I found behind the bar—stashed there by whoever cleaned up last night. It still feels so surreal.

Ask me what I saw myself doing a year ago, and playing house with two broody bikers would not have been on my bingo card.

Tyke presses the starter on his bike, bringing the rumbling engine to life as Maddie kicks hers over, adding to the echoing noise that reverberates off the steel garage. I tug my helmet over my head, relishing the smell of new, untouched liner, and slip the quick release together with a series of clicks as she idles into the yard to wait beside her father. One foot on the closest pillion peg, I brace myself on Tyke's shoulders and climb behind him. He gives my thigh a stroke, from hip to knee, then a squeeze, and I slide closer, curling my arms around his waist to rest themat the creases of his thigh and hip. He turns to glance over his shoulder, and I lean forward, touching my helmet to his.

It's our process, and it still gives me a little thrill each time we complete the small gestures in their specific order.

The weather's eased since the holiday snow season—the roads clearer yet not wholly devoid of winter's touch as we ease out toward town. I take in the crisp smells beneath my helmet, the slight bite to the air still where it touches me about my neck once we hit the open road. Maddie cruises behind at a safe distance, lazily weaving in the lane when I twist my head to check on her.

She's excited—giddy at the thought of finally having a girlfriend to ride with. I love that for her, and I love that it got to be me.

My heart rate picks up the closer we get to the dealership, and I steal glances at Tyke and me when we ride past the plate-glass windows down the main street. The tips of the patch on my back are visible, snaking their points around my shoulder to contrast against the black leather. Some days, when I wake, it still seems like a dream that not one but two incredible men would want to claim me as theirs. Yet I give gratitude every day that they did.

It’s my mind’s favorite thing to catastrophize when I hit my pre-period depression: what would have happened if Tyke had said no? If Maddie hadn't cut her date with Deo short and come to help me out.

If I’d just given in and let Connor have me.

The bike's back tire hits the curb as we turn into the dealership driveway, jolting me from my thoughts. I tighten my grip on Tyke, eager to get off and check out my new baby but content to stay here a little longer—until the nerves subside. At least, that's what I tell myself.

“There she is,” Tyke says as soon as his engine cuts off.

I pop my visor and follow his line of sight around the back of the building and spot the front forks and wheel poking out from behind a bulky Street Glide. My chest tightens, fingertips tingling, and legs charged to carry me across to the brand new Nightster.

Nobody else has ridden her. Nobody but me when I did a one-mile test loop around the neighboring block just to be sure. Three miles on the clock, two of those from transport from the factory to here.

“Oh, my God.” I lean back yet stay on the bike. “Why am I so nervous?”

Tyke chuckles. “Probably because you slid the witch’s broom across the yard.” He sighs, settling his helmet on the bars. “You’ve had fifteen hours of lessons since then. Fifteen hours where you stayed upright and showed yourself you can do this.” He gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this. And we’ll be right there with you.”

I exhale heavily out of my nose and unclip my helmet. Tyke takes it from me as soon as I've slipped it off and nods toward the salesman exiting the sliding glass doors to the showroom.

“Rae!” he exclaims, hands wide. “Are you excited?”

“Ready to shit myself, more like,” I mumble, slipping off the pillion seat.

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