Page 22 of Diesel’s Second Chance

"What if you don't come back?" The question comes out broken. "What if I let myself have this and you die and I have to bury another person I love?"

"Then at least we had today." His voice is firm. "At least we stopped lying to ourselves for a few hours. That's more than we've had in twenty years, June."

I'm crying now, tears streaming down my face. "I don't know how to do this. How to love you without feeling like I'm erasing him."

"You're not erasing him. You're just making room for something new." Jackson stands, pulls me up with him. "Tommy was your husband. You loved him, built a life with him, and that doesn't disappear just because you're ready to move forward. But you are ready, June. You told me you loved me. That wasn't the guilt talking. That was you."

He's right. Last night in his apartment, in the candlelight and rain, I told him the truth. Not because the storm made me sentimental or because I was caught up in confessions, but because I finally couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I am ready," I whisper. "I'm just scared."

"So am I." He cups my face in his hands. "But I'm here right now. We're both here. And we have until midnight to figure out what this is."

I look up at him, this man who's been my constant for decades, who held me together when I fell apart, who loved me silently while I grieved. This man who might ride out tonight and never come back.

"What do you want to do with the time?" I ask.

Jackson's eyes search mine, and I can see the war in them: the desire, the restraint, the fear of pushing too hard.

"I want to stop wasting it," he tells me. "I want to be with you, really be with you, without the space and the guilt and the running. Just us. For however many hours we have left."

"Then stay." I slide my hands up his chest, feel his heart racing under my palm. "Stay with me. No more running. No more space. Just... this. Whatever this is."

He pulls me against him, wraps his arms around me, and holds me like I'm the only thing keeping him anchored.

"I love you," he murmurs into my hair. "God, June, I love you so much."

"I love you too." The words come easier this time. "I'm still scared, but I love you."

"We'll figure out the scared part together." He pulls back just enough to look at me. "But right now, I just want to hold you. Can I do that?"

I nod, and he leads me to the couch, sits down, and pulls me into his lap. I curl against his chest, my head tucked under his chin, and for the first time in a long time I let myself just feel safe.

We sit like that for a long time. No talking, just breathing together, his hand running slowly up and down my back. The morning light filters through the windows, soft and gray, and I can hear the distant sound of traffic on Main Street.

Normal life continuing while ours shifts into something completely different.

"Tell me about the mission," I finally say. "Not the details if you can't. Just... help me understand what you're riding into."

Jackson's quiet for a moment, his hand stilling on my back. "As you know, we've been at war for months with another MC. They've hurt people we care about, threatened our families, tried to destroy everything we've built. Tonight, we finally have the chance to end it. Take out their leader, scatter what's left of their crew, make sure they can never come after us again."

"It sounds dangerous."

"It is." He doesn't sugarcoat it. "But it's necessary. And I trust my brothers to have my back."

"What happens if..." I can't finish the question.

"Then Phoenix makes sure you're taken care of. The club looks after its own, and that includes the people we love."

"I don't want to be taken care of by your club." My voice breaks. "I want you to come home."

"I will." He tilts my face up, looks me straight in the eye. "I'm coming home to you, June. I promise."

"You can't promise that."

"Watch me." There's a fierceness in his expression that I've never seen before. "I've waited twenty years for you. I'm not dying now that I finally have you."

I kiss him then, and he kisses me back just as hard, his hands sliding into my hair, and for a few perfect moments the fear recedes and there's only this.