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“Eliot, carry this home for Lilah. I made you and the boys a separate batch. Hurry up, now. It’s late. Make sure my girl gets home safe now, you hear?” she commanded before reaching for Lilah, pulling her into a tight hug.

“This was so much fun. I’ll come by the bakery tomorrow. I get to pick the craft for this week,” she commanded. Lilah smiled.

“Looking forward to it. Text me so I can set aside the scone you like,” she assured her as she slipped into her sneakers and shrugged her jacket on.

“Blueberry, dear. Never mess with a good thing. Now…Out, damned spot, out, I say!” Lilah paused, and I sighed.

“Breaking out the Macbeth? Should I be concerned with how eager you are to get me out of here?” I teased. But we were already out the door.

“I’ll see you soon. Have a good night, Lilah. I’ll call you tomorrow!” She gave a wave before closing the door, only to move to a nearby window to watch us pass. Subtlety wasn’t exactly Mom’s strongest suit.

“She’s a riot.” Lilah broke the silence. I was grateful to see her amused rather than upset with Mom’s over-the-top goodbye.

“You bring it out in her. She feels comfortable around you. It’s nice to see,” I replied honestly.

“I’m comfortable around her, too, so it works out.” She shrugged. There was a moment of silence. The only sounds were our breathing in the night air.

“Beth said you’re part of a motorcycle club? She talks about them all the time. They sound pretty amazing.” My gaze shot up, instantly evaluating her expression. She looked curious but honest, no sarcasm or judgment behind the statement.

“Yeah. We’re called The Reaper’s Guard. I’ve been a brother for a while now. Live at the clubhouse off Route 80,” I told her, unsure where to go from there.

“That’s nice. I have a sister, but we don’t get along. Never really did. Sounds like your club brothers have really been there for both you and Beth throughout the years. That’s a rare thing—where I come from, at least. Takes more than blood to make someone family, ya know?” she said, tucking a strand of blue hair behind her ear and peeking up at me from under dark lashes.

“I have a confession,” I spit out, hating myself for even bringing it up. Memories of Bash and Fiona’s blowout over background checks were haunting me. I knew fuck all about relationships, but I knew that I had already crossed too many lines, cared too much, looked too deeply. I didn’t want to lie or hide things from Lilah, but maybe I could ease her into it.

“Alright…Way to make me anxious. What is it?” she asked, her eyes big and nervous.

“Mom…With her condition, there have been a lot of people who have tried to take advantage of her situation. Like the aid who was supposed to be watching her on the day she wandered onto your property.” She frowned, her dark brows furrowed, eyes watching me nervously.

“I run background checks on anyone who is going to be around her. I have to know she’s okay, protect her how I can. I ran a basic check on you. Nothing crazy, but I just wanted you to know.” I finally managed to spit it out. And I watched as a series of emotions crossed her face. Eventually, she nodded before walking back toward her house, the silence once again stretched between us.

“You care about Beth a lot. I get that. Part of me feels invaded, but I don’t have anything to hide. Plus, both my jobs ran checks on me, so I guess it makes sense. Not that I see myself as an aid or anything for Beth, but I get that you would be in the habit of checking backgrounds,” she replied. I nodded.

“What did you find out?” she asked, watching my expression to judge my response.

“Born and raised in Villanova, PA to parents Peter and Cynthia Wright. One sibling. Younger sister Lissette, age twenty-five. Your house is a rental. No criminal record. Nothing suspicious.” She stopped walking again, those blue eyes looking at me.

“What else? I may not know you that well, but I’m pretty sure when you do something, you’re pretty thorough about it. Even a basic check would include more than that. Might as well tell me now.” She had a small smile on her face, her voice teasing. A blue strand had fallen loose, and I reached out and tucked it back behind her ear.

“Are you sure? I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy.” The touch was foreign. I yanked my hand away as I realized I was the one to initiate it.

“Tell me. Once I know everything, I can figure out exactly what to ask you back. You have to answer honestly, of course. Quid pro quo and all that. I may not have a PI or whatever you used to check on me, but I know your mom. I’m pretty sure that’s just as good.” I laughed, the sound foreign and rusty.

“Alright, age twenty-seven. Graduated with a dual degree in business and marketing before working your way up the ranks at Granger-Wright Corporation. Briefly engaged to a man named Kyle before canceling the wedding and moving here. Now, you work two jobs while taking courses to get a degree in fine arts from the Pennsylvania College of Art & Design,” I told her, watching her profile for any signs of discomfort as we walked. She nodded, as if physically digesting the information.

“So…Do you like where you work? I’ve been to the cafe, but the bar isn’t really my scene,” I asked, both acknowledging what I did know and trying to take the conversation in a different direction. I had my own assumptions about what she was doing and why she was working herself into the ground in a way that wasn’t sustainable. She hadn’t crashed yet, thank god. I was hoping she wouldn’t—or at the very least, that she would let me in enough to be there to catch her.

“I don’t mind it. Especially the cafe. My boss is friendly, and so are the customers. I get free coffee all morning, and they always send me home with pastries,” she replied, a soft smile on her face.

“And the bar?” I followed up. That was the one that bothered me. Drunk and rowdy were a bad combination, especially around someone as magnetic as Lilah. She didn’t understand the appeal she had, the mix of intelligence and vulnerability.

“It’s fine. I don’t love it. I mean, in general, I prefer getting up early to staying up late. The tips are great, though. Better than anything I could get at the cafe. The floor manager, Marc, isn’t so bad. He keeps an eye out on all the girls as best he can. Regardless, you can imagine what it’s like. Mix alcohol with any situation, and it makes it worse. Especially now that I’m the one getting paid to fuel the fire.” She shrugged, and I hated the slouch in her posture, the visible shut down.

“It won’t be forever, Blue Jay. You’re doing this for a purpose. It’s all a part of a bigger plan, a bigger picture. You’re gonna get there.” The words came rushing out of me before I could stop them. I meant every word. And in the meantime, I would do whatever was needed to make sure she didn’t feel unsafe—at home or at work.

“Alright. My turn, then. What do you do for work? Or do you work for ‘The Club?’” Her exaggerated finger quotes had me smiling more times in one night than ever before.

“Both, I guess? Technically, I’m an electrician. I work for a security firm the MC owns, installing alarm systems and all that, but I also have specific responsibilities at the club.”