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EPILOGUE
PEPPERMINT
Three Months Later...
Three months ago,everything changed. I killed a man. Shot him dead. It was weeks before I could fall asleep without having nightmares. Weeks I barely ate a thing, worried the District Attorney was going to change his mind and file charges against me. Self-defense. It’s what it was. The DA knew that. But I still worried.
The day Dash and Ryder — who are now basically best friends —showed up with moving boxes was the day I started to rebuild my life. I was getting out of the trailer park, away from where it all happened. And I was moving in with Dash. We found an apartment together, and it was the right move. No more nightmares. No more worry. I had him, and he made things better.
Ryder has been supportive of our relationship since we sat him down and told him. He and Dash often exchange PS4 gaming tips. Pretty sure he was happier to see me moving out of the trailer park than I was.
Of course, announcing our relationship to the clubs wasn’t all peachy. The Harlots and Bastards are happy for us, but not so much the Fallen Eagles. Our relationship has tested their alliance. Owen assured Mason it stands, but there’s doubt. Because of me.
I tried talking to him, but he simply wished me the best of luck and walked away. I didn’t intend on hurting him again. But I wouldn’t change a thing.
With Officer Whitfield dead, the appeal to reinstate our liquor license was granted. There was no one pushing to keep us suspended. We’ve been officially selling liquor for a month now, and the place is still jam-packed every night. Ryan would be so happy about that.
“On your left, girl!” Bishop yells, standing behind the couch watching us play.
I frantically press my buttons, biting my bottom lip. When I slay the last zombie on my trail, I jump up, shrieking in excitement. I won. I beat Dash at his own game. I lean over and give Bishop a high five while he talks trash to Dash.
“Have I told you how lucky you are?” Dash asks, pulling me down to his lap.
“What you call luck, I call skill.”
He smirks. “Don’t forget who taught you those skills.”
“Speaking of skills, I think we should go celebrate my win.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. Standing up, he throws me over his shoulder and heads to the bedroom. Gah. This man. I had a boundary set before, a limit. I wouldn’t let him cross it. Wouldn’t give in. But he pushed past my limit. Tore my boundary apart. And I’m so glad I let him.
THE END
