Page 20 of Stitch & Steel
She didn’t argue. Just walked over to the far wall—an old built-in hutch lined with dusty cookbooks—and flipped a carved wooden trim piece near the corner.
I blinked.
A false panel popped open with a littleclick.
Out came a 12-gauge shotgun, already loaded, gleaming like it had been cleaned that morning.
She cradled it like a baby.
I damn near spit my tea across the room. “Jesus, Gran!”
She snapped the barrel shut and gave me a look. “What? You boys think I kept that MC secret all those years with prayers and pie crust?”
Bella was frozen, eyebrows damn near in her hairline. “Gran, what the hell?”
“Honey,” Gran said sweetly, “I raised three boys and patched up more bikers than I can count. There’s a reason I sleep like a rock. ‘Cause if trouble knocks, I know how to answer.”
Before she forgot who I was-I snatched the loaded gun from her arms and emptied the chamber.
I sat back, stunned. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
She winked.
After the gun show, Bella handed me a towel from the kitchen drawer. Her hands trembled just enough for me to notice.
I took it slow. Careful.
“You okay?” I asked, voice low.
She nodded. “Areyou?”
“No.”
The word came out before I could spin it.
She looked up, surprised. “No?”
“I can handle ambushes. Gunfire. Hell, I’ve handled a knife in the gut and kept riding.” I paused. “But today? With thoseassholes near your ridge trail? That’s the first time in years I feltscared.”
Her throat worked on a swallow. “Because of me?”
“Because ofyou, Gran, this cabin… it’s the only part of my life that feels like peace. I don’t want anything touching it.”
The words hung there between us like thick smoke.
Bella broke the silence first. “You sound like a man who’s about to catch feelings.”
I cracked a smile. “I think I already caught a few. For Gran of course, she treats me like her own… kin.’
She looked away, flushed. “ Right, of course.”
I stepped closer. “I think… I should hang onto this.”
The shotgun was heavier than I expected.
Not in weight—hell, I carried heavier every day—but in what it meant. In Gran’s hands, it wasn’t just a weapon. It was history. Secrets. Defiance.
And it scared the hell out of me.
