Page 122 of The Oath We Take

“Look, don’t want to talk about it. Let me get home. Get adjusted. See how we go from there.”

“You got two days,” Atom says. “Bottling shit is no way to live.”

“I’m not bottling shit. Tell me what’s happening with the club.”

Atom sighs, accepting, if not agreeing, with the choice I’m making. On the ride home, he fills me in on what I missed. We’d speak periodically while I was away, but club business isn’t something you discuss on public-access Wi-Fi or a phone line that can be traced.

When I get home, there’s a car in the driveway that I don’t recognize.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“I’ll bring the bags in while you figure it out.”

For a moment, I consider arguing, but I know looking out for people is Atom’s love language. I push the front door open and realize my home smells like lemons. Not just a little bit like lemons, but a lot like lemons. There’s not a speck of dust.

Then, I remember, just as she appears around the corner.

“Quinn.”

She’s gotten prettier as she’s gotten older. I remember when I dated her sister, before she went missing, and the town all turned and looked at me because I was a prospect with a motorcycle club.

I wasn’t allowed to grieve the fledgling relationship we had because I was thrust straight into the role of villain.

Quinn saw me in the street about a month later and literally ran up to me, screaming, asking where Melody was. I let her pound her tiny fists into my chest until her father came and pulled her away.

When she got caught up in that whole Bratva thing and asked if she could stay at my house, I did the right thing and said yes…even though every part of my body said no.

Which leaves me confused as to why every part of my body is now saying yes.