Page 13 of Gray’s Surrender

I lose the last of it.

My rhythm turns hard and rough, every thrust driven by a week of wanting and years of refusing to name it. Meg takes all of me, mouth at my throat, nails down my back. I come with my forehead against hers and her name torn low from my chest.

For a long moment, the garage contains only our breathing.

Meg remains on the workbench with her legs around me. I keep one hand at her back and the other on her thigh. The fight is still there, and so is the fear. Neither disappeared because sex was good enough to make me forget my own name.

“I’m not calling this casual,” I say.

Meg’s fingers move over the edge of my beard. “Good.”

“I also can’t promise easy.”

“I didn’t ask for easy.”

“And I’m still afraid Ruby gets hurt.”

“I know.” She lowers her leg and lets me step back. “But if you shut me out again, we’re going to have a much uglier fight.”

“Understood.”

“Good.”

A laugh escapes me anyway, short and unfamiliar. Meg slides from the bench, steadies herself against my chest and dresses. Nothing is settled when we return to the house.

Meg takes my hand anyway.

Ruby returns at three with a stuffed red panda, a sun-warmed face and enough information about giraffes to fill the drive from Springfield, apparently.

I listen patiently. Meg hides a smile when Ruby informs me that giraffes sleep less than two hours a day, which she considers proof that my bedtime rules are completely unreasonable. At three thirty, Kane sends me a text. Church at four. The unease from yesterday returns before I finish reading.

“I need to go to the compound. Kane called church,” I tell Meg.

She doesn’t ask why. “How long?”

“An hour or so.”

“We’ll be here.”

The words land harder after this morning. I kiss her once in the kitchen, quick but not secret, then put on my cut.

Church is full when I arrive. Kane stands behind the head chair. Judge sits at his right with Tank opposite. Cash turns a pen between his fingers. Wilder and Colt take the middle seats. Griz, Chains and the remaining brothers fill the rest.

“Perdition bikes were seen north of the county line,” Kane says. “Two near the old mill road Thursday. One truck used the fuel stop on Highway Eight this morning.”

My pulse remains level through practice. Judge looks around the table. “Anybody heard from them?” Silence. I could end it with one sentence. Bishop asked me to open the river road, and I refused.

Instead, I think of the truck slowing outside my house and tell myself I don’t know that it belongs to Perdition. Bishop asked for Monday. It’s Saturday and I gave him nothing. I handled it. Kane’s gaze passes over me without stopping.

“Double the north-road watch,” he says. “Gray, check the old landing before dark.”

“Got it.”

The answer tastes wrong. Church ends, and I leave without speaking to Kane alone. At my bike, Tank catches my shoulder.

“You all right?”

I look at the brother who trusts me with his life and his sister.