Page 25 of Wrecked By Rev

I don’t look back.

Angel is at the café when I get there.

She’s behind the counter, setting up for the morning rush, but she stops the second I walk through the door. Her eyes scan my face, my hands—checking for damage.

“It’s done,” I say.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. He’s not.”

She comes around the counter and wraps her arms around me. I hold her tight, breathing her in—coffee and vanilla and something that’s just her. The rage that’s been burning in my chest since I saw those bruises finally starts to fade.

“What happened?” she asks against my chest.

“I delivered a message. Some of his office neighbors heard everything. Pretty sure he’s going to have a hard time keeping that nice-guy reputation.”

She pulls back to look at me. “You didn’t?—”

“He threw the first punch. I just finished it.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “He’s not going to bother you again. I made sure of it.”

Her eyes are wet. “Rev...”

“I told you I’d take care of it.”

“I know. I just—” She takes a shaky breath. “No one’s ever done that for me before. Shown up like that. Fought for me.”

“You’re worth fighting for.” I cup her face in my hands. “You’re worth everything, Angel. I’ve known that since the first time I saw you.”

“At the clubhouse? When Jonah?—”

“Yeah. Six years ago. You were giving Lock shit about his burned burger and I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” I swallow hard. This is the part I’ve been holding back. The truth I’ve been carrying for years. “I’ve been showing up for you since before you knew. Since before you even knew I existed. I just... didn’t know how to tell you.”

She stares at me. A tear spills down her cheek.

“I love you,” I say. “I’ve loved you for years. And I’m going to keep showing up, every day, for as long as you’ll let me.”

She kisses me.

It’s soft and sweet and tastes like tears, and I feel something shift into place in my chest. Something that’s been broken for a long time, finally whole.

When she pulls back, she’s smiling.

“You’re stuck with me now,” she says. “You know that, right?”

“Good.” I rest my forehead against hers. “That’s exactly where I want to be.”

The door opens. The first customer of the day. Angel pulls back, wiping her eyes, already shifting into work mode. But she’s still smiling.

I take my seat at the counter. My stool. The one that’s been mine since this whole thing started.

She pours me a coffee without asking. Black, just the way I like it.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Anytime.”

And just like that, we settle into our routine. Her behind the counter, me in my spot, the morning sun streaming through the windows of the café she built with her own two hands.