Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
The way he touches me, it’s not just about sex, never has been. It’s about every damn thing I’ve survived. It’s about the girl who used to hide behind staying quiet and sleepless nights, who now gets to be a woman with goals and a man who believes in her.
I moan his name, and he smiles against my skin like he’s never heard anything better.
When we’re finally joined—bodies and breath in perfect rhythm—I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on like he’s the only anchor I’ve ever trusted.
And he is.
It’s intense. It’s consuming. It’s everything.
The world narrows to this moment. This bed. This man who’s never once made me feel like too much or not enough.
We move together in a pace that builds slow and hot, growing with each kiss, each whispered word, until we’re both trembling from it.
I cling to him as he thrusts deeper, the edge building inside me like a tidal wave waiting to crash.
“Let go,” he whispers, eyes locked on mine. “Let me see you.”
And I do.
I come undone with a cry, body arching, heart open.
He follows with a groan, burying his face in my neck as he pulses inside me.
It takes a long time for the shaking to stop.
Even longer for my heart to calm down.
But he stays wrapped around me the whole time.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispers again, brushing sweaty hair from my forehead.
“I’m proud of me too.”
We fall asleep wrapped in each other, the scent of sex and love and something earned lingering in the air.
And when I wake up the next morning, I know one thing for sure:
This isn’t just a new chapter.
It’s a whole new life.
And I’m finally living it.
EPILOGUE
DREW
Three months later
Haywood’s Landing smells like salt, pine, and cedar. From the tides rolling in to the trees lining the road, the coastal town is an experience all it’s own.
This town has a way of hanging onto you, even if you leave for years, even if you think you’ve outgrown it. Now, as we roll in, the annual Hellions barbecue’s already in full swing—laughter echoing from the field behind the clubhouse, music thumping through the battered speakers someone duct-taped to a post, and the unmistakable smell of pork and burgers sizzling over an open flame.
Cambria is pressed to my back, her arms locked around my waist, chin hooked over my shoulder as I idle the bike down the lane. Her hair catches the wind, and she’s humming along to some classic rock song I can’t name, just a girl who’s learned to love the wild, loud, simple things that never meant home to her before.
But now? Now it’s different. Now, this is her home, anywhere I am.
I ease the bike into the dirt lot, kicking the stand, and the moment we’re stopped, she swings her leg over, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. She’s in cutoff shorts, a black Hellions tank tied tight over her stomach, and a look in her eye that says she’s ready to take on the world. I grab her helmet as she releases her braid, and then move to get off myself. Standing beside her, my arm casually slung around her, I let my hand linger at her waist a moment longer than I need to. I just want to feel her. Just want to remind myself that this is real.
We walk toward the firepit, where Yesnia is already dancing barefoot in the grass, holding a bottle of something amber and grinning like she’s got no worries in the world. The music is loud, a patchwork of voices singing along, the click and pop of wood in the flames, kids darting between legs, someone’s dog barking. This isn’t just a barbecue. It’s a celebration.
It’s family.
It’s everything I thought I’d lost for good, and more.
But as I let Cambria drift ahead, waving to the women, I scan the crowd for one face—Toon. We’ve been texting, calling, swapping photos of bikes and busted knuckles, but I haven’t laid eyes on him since he left for Haywood’s Landing. I spot him finally, perched on a picnic table with his feet on the bench, looking like he’s aged ten years in half as many months. His shoulders seem broader, but his face is thinner, and there’s a line to his jaw that wasn’t there before.
He sees me and his mouth splits into that crooked grin. I walk up, slow, taking him in. It’s easy to forget, until moments like this, how much you can miss a brother.
“Well, look who finally remembered he had a best friend,” Toon says, pushing to his feet.
I shake my head, pulling him into a hug that’s rough, fast, but real. “You look like shit,” I say.
He laughs, slapping my back with a thump. “You look soft.”
We break, and for a moment, it’s just us, two men who’ve bled and laughed and grown up together.