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I slip the piece of paper out of the envelope and unfold it. No details, just a balance that makes my eyes bug the fuck out. “How the hell does she plan to ever pay this off?”

He plucks it out of my hand but doesn’t seem as shocked at the number. “If it’s what I think it’s for, the club should be paying it anyway.” He folds the paper and tucks it into his pocket.

Since I agree the club should pay it, I don’t give him shit for stealing my girl’s mail.

He sifts through more papers on the desk. “Most of the important stuff she’ll have on her phone these days,” he mutters. His gaze lands on a corkboard over the desk with dozens of colorful squares of paper. Quotes ranging from cute to profound are scrawled in her neat handwriting over each one.

One corner of Z’s mouth lifts. “‘Never assume loud equals strength and quiet equals weakness.’” He nods. “I like that.”

My gaze lands on another one that freezes me in place.

The strongest souls carry the deepest scars.

“Let’s get going.” I nudge his side with my elbow. “Obviously, she’s not here.”

And I won’t be able to rest until I find her.

Chapter Two

Serena

Free yourself from fear by forgiving your past mistakes.

* * *

The things I’m running from aren’t just in my head.

They’re etched into my soul. Burned into my psyche. My mind is at war with my heart.

Protect my baby.

Gray is nothing like Shadow. He’d never hurt me, even my scarred heart knows that truth. But my brain can’t stop reminding me that it doesn’t mean Gray wants this baby.

Guilt follows me all the way to Emily’s house.

Coward. Rude. An endless stream of scolding words keeps repeating in my head. How can I leave Gray without an explanation? What will he think when he returns to the clubhouse and I’m not there?

I need time to think. Steel myself for the inevitable rejection. Prepare for the worst.

I’ve been broken so many times in my life, I’m now unbreakable.

I tuck my car into a spot at the end of Emily’s street. A large willow tree with long trailing branches shields me from view. I already called Emily and asked if I could stay with her. She didn’t demand an explanation, just told me my room was ready and waiting.

The warm glow of streetlamps illuminates the way to Emily’s house. Her neighborhood’s safe and friendly, but I’m still anxious as I hike my backpack over my shoulder, loop my bag over my arm and sling my purse over my other shoulder. I hurry over the sidewalk that’s actually been cleaned and salted. Barely any trace of the last snowstorm covers the pavement.

The bluestone path to Emily’s front porch is lit up with small solar lights. Another light floods the front yard and porch, almost blinding me. Good burglar deterrent.

I hop onto the porch and jab my finger against the doorbell.

The door swings open, and Emily appears. A screen door still separates us. “Why are you ringing the bell? You know you can just come in.”

“That seemed rude.” I reach for the handle. The screen door lets out a low screech as I swing it open. I step inside, quickly closing and locking it behind me.

Emily’s gaze roams over me from head to toe. Seeking injuries, probably.

“It’s nothing bad, Em.” I set my bags on the bench next to the door and kick my shoes off.

“You had me worried.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I glance around. “Where’s Libby?”

“School. Rehearsal. She’s supposed to get a ride from a friend.” She glances at the clock on the wall. “If she’s not back soon, I’m going to kick her butt.”

For the first time in hours, I actually smile.

“Come here.” Emily pulls me into a hug. “Let me make some tea and you can tell me what’s going on.”

As much as I love coffee, this feels like a tea kind of conversation. Wait, can I even drink coffee anymore? My hand strays to my stomach. I have a lot of things to figure out.

I follow Emily into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” She turns her back to me, standing at the sink to fill a blue enamel tea kettle. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did something happen with Gray?” she asks carefully.

“It’s nothing like that, Emily,” I answer quickly. Emily knows all about my history of shitty boyfriends and I don’t want her thinking Gray is another in the long line.

Her shoulders drop, and she blows out a breath. “Good.”

“How’s work?” I ask to take the attention off me.

“Not bad.” She goes into a lengthy description of her current research project. Most of it goes over my head but I nod, smile, and try to ask the appropriate questions.

“All right.” She sets two mugs of hot water on the table and places a box of tea bags in the middle. I pick through her stash until I find a sachet of chamomile and pop it in my mug. “Tell me why you’re so jumpy?” She perches on the chair across from me and fixes her own tea.

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