Page 44 of Monk

She sniffled, her defiance cracking just a little. “She said my hair looked stupid.”

“Your hair’s fine,” I said, reaching out to ruffle it, mud and all. “But you don’t prove people wrong by rolling around in the dirt with them. You prove them wrong by being better.”

Talia stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. Then she nodded, her shoulders slumping. “Okay.”

“Good,” I said, standing. “Now go clean up before your momma loses her mind.”

Talia turned and trudged toward the hallway, her muddy footprints trailing behind her.

Kali sighed, shifting Tulsa to her other hip. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer now.

I nodded, stepping back toward the counter as Kansas moved to stand beside Kali, his hand resting on the small of her back. “She’s got your fire,” he said, his tone teasing.

Kali shot him a look. “She’s gotyourstubbornness.”

“Fair,” Kansas said with a grin.

I grabbed a mug from the counter and poured myself a cup of coffee, the bitter scent cutting through the fog in my head.

“I don’t have time for this,” Kali muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “I’ve got to meet with the mayor this afternoon.”

Kansas frowned. “What’s going on with the mayor?”

I watched her as she spoke—this woman who had shown up in Lawton when the club was at its worst. When we had nothing left to live for. Then Kali arrived, with four kids and bruises she couldn’t hide, running from John Stevens, a husband who had beaten her so badly she nearly died. She fled across state lines with nothing but her kids and the clothes on her back, looking for safety in a town where she knew nobody. Instead of disappearing, she stayed. Rebuilt herself from nothing. And as she healed, she healed all of us. She turned herself into someone the community respected, someone the mayor called when shit needed fixing, someone who fought developers and protected this town like it was her own flesh and blood. Kansas looked at her like she hung the fucking moon, and maybe she did. She gave him something to fight for beyond the club, something worth protecting that didn’t end in bloodshed. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Kali had lost her brother Jinx, nearly died at the hands of a monster, and still chose to love a man who wore a cut and lived by the same code that had killed her family.

Kali shifted Tulsa again before handing him over to Kansas, and her expression tightened. “There’s a big investment company trying to buy the Wilcox Farm. They want to tear itdown and build a casino. This town doesn’t need another casino. It needs new roads. A new library.”

My hand froze halfway to my mouth, the mug suspended in midair. The coffee inside had gone cold, but I barely noticed.

Wilcox Farm. Lina’s farm.The name hung in the air between us like smoke, refusing to dissipate. I felt my pulse quicken as a familiar ache settled in my chest. “Is David planning to sell?” I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I intended, scratching against my throat like sandpaper.

Kali glanced at me, her eyebrows lifting slightly in that way that told me she had caught the edge in my tone. “Not if his daughter has a say.”

Her words hit me like a freight train barreling down the tracks at full speed.

His daughter. Carolina. My Lina.

My chest constricted. The mug felt suddenly heavy in my hand, the ceramic warming against my palm even as the coffee inside had long since cooled. “What do you mean?” I asked, as my grip tightened on the mug until my knuckles went white.

Kali’s expression was casual and unbothered, completely unaware of the bomb she had just dropped into my lap. “David handed over the running of the farm to her. She’s moving back home. Permanently.”

The room tilted. The edges of my vision blurred, and for a moment, I thought I might actually drop the mug.Permanently.

The word echoed in my head, louder and louder, drowning out everything else.

She’s staying. She’s not leaving.

My fingers gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles going white.

Kansas was saying something—something about the mayor, about the investment company, about community support—but I couldn’t hear him. All I could hear was that word.

Permanently. Lina is staying, and so is the kid.

My chest tightened, my breath coming shallow and fast.

She fucked another man. Had his kid. And now she’s staying.The rage I buried under whiskey and sex and distance roared back to life, mixing with something else, something I didn’t want to name.

Hope.