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Chapter Seven
LORE
Being held in Dirt’s comforting embrace while we share laughter, I feel a sense of belonging. In contrast, Brooks never made me feel this way. Our relationship had always been fraught with difficulties. With him, I never felt like I belonged. I wore the wrong clothes and said the wrong things. He was an amazing father to Tobias, but over the years, whatever he felt for me turned toxic. From the moment I met Dirt, we fell into an easy relationship until we didn’t. I wanted more for him and wanted him to leave the Savage Angels. That was when the cracks started to appear in our once-strong bond. Dirt understood me like no man ever has, but he was content in this small town with his MC.
Thinking back, I didn’t trust him enough to tell him who Tobias was, and Tobias, for whatever reason, kept my secret. He knew how much I loved Dirt and how hard it was for me to leave.
Brooks clears his throat. I lock eyes with Dirt for a moment before stepping out of his comforting hold. Dirt’s expression darkens, but he remains silent.
“I need to talk to Brooks. Will you be okay to wait here?”
Dirt scowls and glances at Brooks, but he nods. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
Reaching out, I squeeze his hand and whisper, “Thank you.” Turning to Brooks, I suggest, “There’s a cafeteria downstairs. Let’s go get some coffee.”
Brooks hesitates before he replies, “I don’t want to leave Tobias.”
I put on a reassuring smile and coax him gently, “Come on, Brooks. It’ll only take a minute. Let’s give the doctor some space to do her job. The coffee is awful, but it’s on me.”
Brooks looks past me to Dirt and Zeke, then turns and walks to the elevator. Smiling at Dirt, I roll my eyes and then follow Brooks.
Inside the elevator, Brooks breaks the silence, “Found another biker?”
Sighing, I say, “You make it sound like I dated a whole MC. There was only ever one biker, and it was Dirt.”
“Great name,” he replies sarcastically.
I roll my eyes. “It’s a club name.”
Brooks scoffs, his disapproval written all over his face. “Well, I didn’t think his mother gave him that name.”
The doors open, and he steps out ahead of me, walking in the wrong direction.
“It’s this way.”
Brooks makes a sharp turn and once again strides ahead, not offering any acknowledgment of my guidance. When I catch up with him, he’s standing in line, waiting to be served, so I stand next to him.
“Do you still like your coffee black, no sugar?” Brooks asks, surprising me with his recollection after all these years.
Nodding, I say, “Yes.”
He casts a glance at me, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“It’s been years, Brooks. I’m a little surprised you remember.”
Brooks’ gaze softens as he looks at me. “Some things are hard to forget, Lore.”
His words hang in the air, a reminder of the complicated past we share and the emotions that still linger beneath the surface.
Brooks’ gaze drops to the floor as we inch forward in the coffee line. “Do you know how it happened?”
“He was at a party. The gunmen were aiming for someone else, and he got in the way.”
Brooks rubs his forehead. “I’ll never understand why he chooses to work with these people.”
As I study Brooks, I notice the signs of aging on his face—the crease marks around his eyes, evidence of a man who has laughed a lot in his life, and his once-blond hair has turned mostly gray, but it suits him, adding a touch of wisdom to his appearance. On his left hand, I spot a silver band, and curiosity gets the best of me.
Reaching out, I tap the metal. “When did you get married?”
