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"I've never—" I stop, start again. "I've never thought about being around kids. Never pictured myself as someone who could be good at that. And you and Luna are a package deal, which is how it should be. But what if I'm shit at it? What if I try and I fuck it up and she ends up hurt because I don't know what I'm doing?"

Daisy's quiet for a long moment before saying, "You know what Luna's father did when I told him I was pregnant?"

"What?"

"He said, 'I'm not ready for this,' and left two weeks later. Never once asked if I was ready. Never asked what I needed or how he could help. Just decided it was too hard and walked away." Her voice is steady but there's steel underneath. "You're standing here worried about being a bad stepfather to a kid you haven't even met. That alone makes you better than him."

"That's a low bar."

"Maybe. But you're the one who set it higher by actually giving a damn." She steps forward, closes the distance I've been trying to maintain. "I'm not asking you to be her father. I'm not asking you to be anything except yourself. But if you're interested in me, in us, then yeah, Luna's part of that eventually. Not tonight, not next week, but eventually. And I need to know if that's something you can handle or if I should stop this before it goes any further."

She's not playing games. Not trying to trap me or manipulate me into something I don't want. Just laying out the reality and asking me to make a choice.

I could walk away right now. Could tell her she's right, that it's too much, that I'm not equipped for this. Could go back to watching from a distance, keeping her at arm's length, protecting both of us from the inevitable disaster of me trying to be something I'm not built for.

But the thought of walking away makes something in my chest seize up.

Because the truth is, I don't want to walk away. Don't want to go back to the empty prospect quarters and the noise in my head that only quiets when she's around. Don't want to lose this, whatever this is, before I've even had a chance to see what it could become.

"I want to try," I say. "I'm fucking terrified I'll screw it up, but I want to try."

Her face softens. "That's all I'm asking."

The song ends, and another one starts, something upbeat again, breaking the moment. But neither of us moves. We're just standing there in the middle of O'Malley's, close enough that I can count the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, and I feel completely insane.

We're on our first fucking date and already talking about me being a stepdad. About Luna being part of this. About future complications neither of us can predict. This is too fast. It's wrong. It's the kind of rushing in that ends badly for everyone involved.

So why does it feel so right?

Why isn't she pushing back? Telling me we're going too fast, that we barely know each other, that we should slow down and figure out what this is before we start planning around a six-year-old's life?

"I'm glad I met you," I say, because it's the only coherent thought I can grab onto. "I know that sounds stupid considering the circumstances, but—"

"It doesn't sound stupid." She's smiling, soft and real. "I'm glad I met you too. I never thought I'd meet someone new. Especially not during a robbery. And definitely not a biker."

"Is that a problem? The biker thing?"

She tilts her head, considering. "It won't be if you're a good biker. If you stay the person you are right now and don't change into something else."

"I won't."

"Then I don't care what you ride or what patch you wear or how many tattoos you have." Her hand comes up to rest against my chest, right over my heart. "I care about this. The man underneath all of it."

I can feel my pulse racing under her palm. Can feel every point of contact between us like a live wire. The noise in my head is so quiet I can barely remember what it usually sounds like.

"What are you waiting for then?" she asks.

I raise an eyebrow. "What am I… What are you talking about?"

"How long is it going to take for you to finally kiss me? Because I've been waiting since we started dancing, and I'm starting to think you might not actually want to."

Every thought in my head goes blank.

She's been waiting. For me. To kiss her.

And I've been standing here like an idiot, trying to maintain distance, trying to be respectful, trying not to push too hard, move too fast or do anything that might scare her away.

"I didn't want to push," I say. "Didn't want to assume…"