Page 103 of Collect the Pieces

Like the way I need to buy a house with a lot of acreage so I can hunt her down and fuck her outside every day for the rest of our lives.

Ow.I better save that last thought for later.

I stand on the pegs, lifting and repositioning myself, then sit farther back in my seat.

This isn’t an aimless joyride.

Today, I know exactly where I’m headed.

To find clarity with the only blood relative I give a shit about?

Maybe.

Although my relationship with my sister is hardly smooth and uncomplicated.

Jezzie said she was free this afternoon. I’m hoping we can actually enjoy some time together instead of squaring off like opponents in a cage match.

I back my bike into a spot near her apartment and kill the engine. The courtyard outside her building is full of college-age kids sprawled across the grass, soaking up the sun like reptiles while staring at their phones. A few glance my way, widen their eyes, then quickly return to their incessant doom-scrolling.

I yank out my own phone.

Me: Here.

I hit the button for her apartment once and she buzzes me in right away. At least the building’s safe.

I jog up the stairs, yanking off my riding gloves, and wrinkle my nose at the thick, skunky scent of weed clinging to the hallway. My clubhouse usually reeks about the same, but we’re not spending thousands on tuition while we’re getting baked.

Her apartment door swings open as I approach and an excited smile spreads over Jezzie’s face.

“Jensen!” she squeals and rushes into the hallway. I barely have time to brace myself before she’s throwing her arms around my neck and squeezing tight.

Hey, look at that. She’s happy to see me.

“Hey, kiddo.” I return the hug. Coconut and pineapple shampoo or perfume clings to her hair, fresh and sweet—at least it’s not weed. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” She releases me, bouncing on her toes a few times, then backs up into the apartment. “Come in. Come in. How was the ride?”

“Not too bad.”

She eyes my black leather cut. “You wore your colors?”

“I rode here. Why? Worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your college friends?”

Her smile falters. “No. I worry aboutyousince you’re riding alone.”

“I told you this is a…gray area between us and another club. We’re friends with them. It’s fine.”

She nods quickly but her forehead remains wrinkled. Is she really worried about my safety, or is she worried her fancy college friends will find out she has a dirty biker brother? The one who funds her lifestyle, but whatever.

“You want something to drink?” she asks, already moving toward the small kitchen. “It was a long trip.”

“Sure.” I walk up to the counter dividing the living room from the kitchen.

“Is iced tea okay?” she asks.

“That’s fine.”

She pulls a glass pitcher out of the fridge and two glasses from a cabinet and stands facing me on the other side of the counter. She pours and slides a glass my way.

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