The other twin grins and offers me his hand across the table. “Wyatt. Don’t listen to her. I’m the funny one.”
I shake his hand, surprised by how gentle his grip is for someone so big.
The third man stops behind Erica. He’s quieter than the twins, but just as intimidating at first glance, dark eyes, serious face, tattoos running up his neck. He rests a hand on Erica’s shoulder and gives me a small nod. “Steele,” he says simply. His voice is low and rough, but when he looks at Erica, his whole expression softens.
A fourth man appears a moment later and drops into the empty spot beside Tessa like he belongs there. He’s got a crooked smile and kind eyes. “Cole,” he says, reaching over to steal one of Tessa’s cherries. “You must be the famous Lucy. Scarlett’s been talking about you for weeks.”
I blink, caught off guard by how normal they all sound. These men look like they could break someone in half without trying, but they’re teasing their women and making sure I feel included instead of scared.
I expected them to be loud or intense or dismissive of the new girl. Instead, Wyatt asks me how nursing school is going like he actually cares about the answer. Weston makes a dumb joke about how he could never do what I do because he’s “too pretty to handle blood.” Steele doesn’t say much, but he listens when Erica talks and keeps one protective hand on her chair the whole time. Cole keeps stealing Tessa’s food and laughing when she swats at him.
They’re… normal. Big, tattooed bikers who look like they belong in a police lineup, but who treat their women like queens and make a sheltered nineteen-year-old feel welcome without making a big deal about it.
I sit back in the booth, sipping my soda and listening to them all talk over each other. I don’t feel like I’m just visiting anymore. I feel like I might actually want to stay.
Scarlett checks her phone and says “we should probably head out. Rook is getting in soon and I want to be home when he gets there.” She winks and Tessa wiggles her eyebrows.
I’m surprised by how much I don’t want to leave. The bar is still loud and chaotic around us. Hadley is tucked against Weston’s side while Wyatt argues with Cole about something ridiculous. Erica is quietly leaning into Steele, her hand resting on his thigh. Tessa keeps stealing Cole’s fries. These people weren’t what I expected at all.
Scarlett nudges me with her shoulder. “Come on, Cinderella. I’ll drive you back to your car.”
I follow her out into the cool night air. The parking lot is quieter than inside, the low rumble of motorcycles in the distance. Scarlett unlocks her Jeep and we climb in.
“You had fun,” she says as she starts the engine.
I nod, smiling without meaning to. “Yeah. I really did.”
She glances over at me. “Told you.”
The drive back to the clinic is short. We don’t talk much, but it’s a comfortable silence. When she pulls up next to my car, she turns to me. “You can come back anytime, you know. No pressure. But… I want you to know that you’re welcome here.”
I swallow around the sudden tightness in my throat. “Thanks, Scarlett. For everything. The coffee. Tonight. All of it.”
She grins. “Anytime, kid.”
I get out and wave as she drives away, then slide into my own car. For a minute I just sit there, hands on the steering wheel, letting the night replay in my head.
They all looked so intimidating at first, big, inked, leather and scars, but they were just… normal. The kind of people who make room for you at their table without making you feel like you have to earn it.
I drive home with the windows cracked and the radio low, a small smile still on my face. My chest feels lighter than it has in months. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m just waiting for my real life to start. I feel like maybe I touched something real tonight.
I pull into the driveway and cut the engine, still smiling to myself as I grab my bag. The second I step inside, my smile dies.
Dad is sitting in his chair in the living room, still in his dress shirt and loosened tie even though it’s late. The newspaper is open on his lap, but he’s not reading it. He’s staring at me like he’s been waiting there for hours.
My stomach drops.
“You’re late,” he says. His voice is calm, but I know that tone. It’s the one he uses right before the lecture starts.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s only a little after ten. “I was out with a friend from the clinic. I didn’t realize—”
“You didn’t realize what?” He closes the newspaper with slow, precise movements. “That you have responsibilities? That your mother and I expect you home at a reasonable hour? That you’re supposed to be studying for that test you keep talking about instead of running around at all hours of the night?”
I stand there in the doorway, still holding my bag, the good mood from earlier evaporating like it was never there.
“I was just—”
“You were just what, Lucy?” He stands up now, voice getting sharper. “Disappearing without telling anyone where you were going? Making your mother worry? Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is? You live under this roof. You follow the rules we set. That’s how this family works.”
