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I smile as I hear the rumble of Gabe’s bike growing louder down the street. Its familiar sound makes this house feel that much more like home. Going out onto the front porch, I greet him there. He looks good as he swings his leg over his Night Train, at ease with his day, which brings me an intense relief I hadn’t known I needed. But this is a big move, and I know Gabe did it for me because I’m the one Athena wanted out of Blackmoor. Changing his whole life’s path for me seems like a big ask. But I would say from the look on his face that today would count as a success.
“Hi,” he says, making his way up the porch steps and snaking his arms around my waist, pulling me close.
“Hi.” With a warm smile, I stand onto my tiptoes so I can press a kiss to his lips.
Gabriel deepens it as he pulls me to him, his body curving to fit mine. Then he breaks the kiss to look me in the eyes. “I could get used to this—my girl greeting me at the front door after a day of work. How was your day?” he asks.
“Good.” Taking his hand, I lead him through the front door. “I got things put away pretty well. And our bed got delivered.”
“Mmm,” he hums suggestively, and I shoot him a coy grin. I can almost hear what he’s thinking before the words come out of his mouth. “We might have to test it out later. Break it in a bit.”
“Put it on the list?” I suggest, referring to his ongoing theme of all the places we’re going to have sex to christen the house.
A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Yes, definitely on the list.”
Turning into his arms once more, I lean against his chest. “I didn’t cook dinner. We’re still a bit short on anything but breakfast foods and sandwiches.”
Gabe combs my hair behind my ear in a surprisingly tender gesture, a smile touching his lips. “That’s all right. Why don’t we try one of the local restaurants? Start to get used to our new town. I hear there’s a diner on the other side of town that’s pretty good.”
“That sounds good. Let’s check it out.”
“You gonna be comfortable on the back of the bike?” he asks, glancing down at my belly.
He’s been worried about it since I started showing, something I find both adorable and slightly frustrating. I might be pregnant, but I haven’t all of a sudden turned into a glass doll. He never used to treat me so delicately, and while I love this new tender side to him, I miss how confident he was in what I could take, the way he used to handle me with all his strength.
“Yes, I’ll be comfortable on the bike.” I smile broadly. “I’m not completely helpless yet, you know.”
“You’ll never be that.” Gabe gives me a chaste kiss. “I’m just gonna change real quick, into something clean. Then we can head out.”
The ride is short, as Whitfield is even smaller than Blackmoor, though not by much. The town has the same colonial style combined with a bit more of a seaside town with brightly colored houses because the beach is less than fifteen minutes away. The main road running through downtown has redbrick buildings with little local shops lining both sides, and only a few other bustling roads on either side, as well as one main cross street. Then it fades into residential houses.
As a whole, Whitfield almost looks like a town forgotten in time, which only benefitted Gabe in his choice of location because no biker clubs really pinpointed it as a spot to claim. That and the fact that it’s the only town for miles means a territory war would be nearly impossible to start. But still, it’s close enough to Boston that he can benefit from the major ports and Mark’s contacts there who have been hauling longer runs for years and can appreciate an earlier dispersal point.
The diner looks like it came straight out of the 1950s. Large windows wrap around a small one-story standalone building, a striped awning covering the front door, red vial booths, and black-and-white-checkered tile floors. It’s not grungy but definitely shabby, like they haven’t remodeled it since its original build. The rips in the vinyl seats have been patched and repatched with matching red duct tape.
“Find an open spot, and we’ll be right over,” the server calls from behind the bar counter.
I half expected her to be wearing roller skates and a poodle skirt. While a bandana is holding her hair in place, she just has an apron covering her polo shirt and jeans. The restaurant is fairly busy for a week night, attesting to the quality of food, and Gabe and I find the only available booth left and slide into the bench seats.
Glancing around, I notice that they still have a jukebox in operation. Not one of the classic jukeboxes, though they have one of those as well that looks non-operational, purely for decoration, along one wall. At one point in my life, I would have looked down on a place like this, considered it beneath me because it’s in need of a facelift and clearly lacks caviar or cloth napkins. But now, after all the good memories I’ve made with Gabe at little holes in the wall just like this, I don’t mind the atmosphere so much. There’s something sweet, homey, and intimate about it.
“How’d the meeting go?” I ask, refocusing on Gabe across from me as he fiddles with the laminated one-page menu.
“Good. I think we’ll have a solid working relationship. Mark’s contact, John, is one of those old-school guys, so I just had to stand my ground to earn respect.” Gabe shrugs a shoulder as if it’s common sense to stand your ground with someone older and more established in the biking world than Gabe himself.
I bark a laugh. “Well, I’m glad you knew how to handle him.”
Gabe smiles. “I was raised in this culture. It’s nothing new to me. And whether or not Mark intended it to be this way, he’s taught me all I need to know to make this move a success. Don’t you worry. This is a good move, Winter. I promise.” Reaching across the table, Gabe takes my hands, brushing the tops of my fingers with the rough pads of his thumbs. “How about you? Did you have any luck finding a possible car to buy?”
“Actually, I kind of wanted to talk to you about that.” I hesitate, unsure of exactly how I want to pose my concerns and suggestions. I know Gabe wants to be able to provide for our family, that he considers it his responsibility as well as his role as my future husband, but I don’t want to sit around being useless when I know I could be of some help.
“What’s up?” Gabe frowns, seeming to read my hesitation and thinking the worst.
“What would you think about me getting a job?” I ask, dipping my toes into the subject rather than just coming out and saying I want to get one.
“You don’t need to do that,” he objects. “I promise the club will take care of all our needs. It’s just getting up and running, but once we’re rolling, everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
“I know—I mean, I do trust you. It’s not that. It’s just… I would feel more comfortable if we weren’t quite so tight right now while you’re establishing things. And… well, I’ve never had a job before. I would kind of like the experience. I want to do something to contribute to society. You know? Not just live in it.”
