Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bama

The four-wheeler roars beneath us, kicking up dust and gravel as we tear through the back of the property.

Jordyn's laughter is a melody I could listen to forever, her arms wrapped tight around my waist.

The air smells like pine and freedom.

"Hold on!" I shout over my shoulder, feeling her grip tighten.

I take a sharp turn, the wheels skidding before they find their grip again.

Her squeal of delight sends a rush of adrenaline through me. This—right now—feels like living.

We crest a small hill, and the land opens up, stretching wide and wild before us.

I slow down, letting the engine purr as we come to a stop.

The creek glimmers right in front of us.

"Thought I'd bring you somewhere special," I say, cutting the engine.

She slides off the seat, her caramel-highlighted hair catching the sunlight. "Special, huh? It looks like you just have to impress me, Bama."

"Always do." I wink, unstrapping the picnic basket I'd ratchet-strapped down earlier.

The silence of the creek swallows the echoes, leaving just the sound of water trickling over smooth stones.

God, Montana really is God's country. Alabama might be beautiful, but it doesn't compare to this.

I glance at Jordyn, her cheeks flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling like the damn stars.

Everything about this moment feels right.

"Tomorrow's Dex's big day, huh?" I say, bringing up the rager we're going to be throwing at the clubhouse. "Graduation party and all that."

"Yeah," she replies, a hint of laughter in her voice. "My cousin's really worked his ass off."

"Yeah, he has. You wonder what he's gonna be using that fancy schmancy degree for?"

Jordyn giggles lightly, "Hell if I know. I'll only assume something that will benefit the club."

I nod as I unstrap the picnic basket, careful with every move.

It's packed to the brim with everything she loves.

A lot rides on moments like this and most men don't realize it—small gestures, thoughtful touches.

I spread out the blanket near the creek, the water's sound providing a calming ambiance.

Jordyn watches me, curiosity mixed with something deeper.

"Sit," I tell her, and she does, gracefully folding her legs beneath her.

I lay out the food—sandwiches, fruit, even some damn fancy cheese I picked up in town.

Not exactly gourmet, but it's the thought that counts.

"Wow, Bama," she says, genuinely surprised. "This is . . . amazing."

"Only the best for you," I reply, feeling a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the sun above us. "Honestly, I'm glad I fessed up and told you how I really felt."

"Me too," she says, her smile bright enough to light up the darkest parts of my soul. "You make me so happy."

I reach over to brush a stray hair from her face. "Good,"

Her skin is soft, inviting. If only life could stay this simple forever.

"Tell me something," she suddenly asks, breaking the spell. "What was your life like before you came to Billings?"

"Not much to tell," I say, my voice dropping. "I grew up in a rural town in Alabama, lived in a trailer park. My mom . . . she was addicted to drugs. Started with pills, then shifted to heroin. It was . . . rough, to say the least."

She reaches out, her fingers brushing mine, offering silent support.

I take a deep breath and continue. "Things weren't any better with my old man. He was an abusive alcoholic. Used to come home drunk every night, looking for someone to take his anger out on. Most times, that someone was my mother, but sometimes it was me."

Jordyn's eyes fill with empathy, but she stays quiet, letting me tell my story at my own pace.

"Used to dread hearing his truck pull up. Knew what was coming next. Never gave a shit about us–me or my mom. Just wanted another excuse to swing his fists. I even remember a time when my mom wasn't so bad. She got put on pain pills and then eventually it turned to heroin," I swallow hard, the memories clawing their way to the surface. "That's why I left when they died. I came here to Billings, looking for a fresh start. And I found one. It's all thanks to Rosa, she told me Zane was lookin' for prospects."

"I'm sorry. You said they died?" she asks, offering silent support.

"Yeah," I say flatly. "Mom overdosed. As far as my father goes, well, he offed himself the same day."

The horror in her eyes matches the darkness of my memories.

But there's more—what I don't say, what churns inside me, is that I damn well know I killed him.

That night, my anger and hatred boiled over.

When I told him about my mom dying, he acted like it didn't matter at all, and I snapped.

I beat the shit out of him and then slit his wrists.

No one ever found out. They just assumed he did it himself after finding Mom.

Her grip tightens, and I see the sadness in her eyes, a mirror to my own buried pain. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "Thank you for sharing that all with me."

"Don't be," I reply, squeezing her hand back. "Past is past. Ain't never going back."

Jordyn licks her lips, "Not everyone knows this, but Kat had a really bad problem with drugs. Damon was the one to help pull her out of it."

I arch a brow, "No shit. I didn't have a clue."

Jordyn offers an uncomfortable smile, "Yeah, she's been clean for a very long time. She did a lot of things to herself that no one should have—cut herself, tries to hurt herself however she could. She even tried to kill herself, but Damon got to her in time."

I raise both of my brows in surprise. "Wow, I'm so sorry. That's tough."

We eat in silence for a while, the food tasting better than it should.

I think it just might be the company I'm keeping that's making it taste amazing.

We sit here for a while, the creek whispering secrets as it flows past us.

I watch her, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs, the way her fingers dance over the picnic spread.

Every little detail makes my chest swell with something fierce and protective.

"Jordyn," I say, breaking the comfortable silence. She looks up, her eyes locking onto mine, curious and open. "Are you happy?"

Her smile is like sunrise over the mountains, bright and undeniable. "Bama, you make me so happy."

Hearing those words, seeing that smile—it hits me harder than any punch ever could.

It's raw and real, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I've found something worth fighting for. Maybe even dying for.

"Good," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "That's all I want."

"Is it?" she teases, leaning closer. Her fingers brush mine, sending jolts of electricity through my veins.

"Yeah, it is," I answer, more serious now. "I meant what I said before. Being honest with you . . . it changed everything for me."

"Me too," she whispers, and there's a depth in her voice that makes me believe it. "Our relationship can only go up from here, Bama."

"You're damn right," I agree, pulling her into a gentle kiss.

Her lips are soft, sweet, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

It's just us—no club business, no dark pasts. Just us, and this perfect, fleeting moment.

"Let's not waste another second," I murmur against her lips, feeling more alive than I have in years. Because with her by my side, I know we can face anything. "But, we should finish our food first."

When the meal's done, she gets playful, nudging me with her shoulder, making me laugh—a sound that still feels foreign, yet welcome.

"Come on, big guy, think you can take me to the ground?" she teases, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Bring it on, babe," I challenge, and before I know it, we're wrestling on the blanket, the world around us forgotten.

I lunge forward, pinning her down easily.

Her laughter echoes through the trees as she squirms beneath me, trying to break free.

It's infectious, wrapping itself around my heart and squeezing tight.

"Gotcha," I whisper, my face inches from hers.

"Not yet," she replies, twisting her body and flipping us over.

She ends up on top, her teal sundress hiked up her thighs, her breath coming fast.

"Impressive," I admit, looking up at her, breathless.

"Surprised?" she asks, her voice low and sultry.

Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, sending shivers down my spine.

"Always," I murmur, eyes locked on hers.

"Good," she whispers, leaning closer. Her lips brush against mine before moving to my ear. "Because I've got a surprise for you."

"Yeah?" My voice is hoarse, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Yeah," she breathes, her hands moving down to the buckle of my jeans.

"Jordyn . . ." I start, but my words trail off as she unfastens them with practiced ease.

"Shh," she murmurs, her eyes darkening with desire. "Just let me."

And as her fingers work their magic, all thoughts of the past vanish.

There's only here. Only now. Only us.

Her lips are on me before I can catch my breath.

The warmth, the wetness—it's a shock to my system.

My hands clutch the blanket beneath us, trying to anchor myself as her mouth works its magic.

Every flick of her tongue sends electricity shooting through my veins.

"Jordyn," I rasp, but it comes out more like a groan.

She doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down.

Her eyes meet mine, dark and full of intent.

She knows exactly what she's doing, and damn, she's good at it.

My hips buck involuntarily, chasing the pleasure she's giving me.

"Fuck," I mutter, unable to hold back. My world narrows down to this moment, this feeling. Nothing else matters.

When I'm on the edge of losing it and telling her she needs to fuck me now, but she moves.

She positions herself over me, and in one fluid motion, she sinks down onto my cock.

"Jesus, no panties?" I gasp, my hands gripping her hips tightly.

She doesn't say a word back in response, only smiles at me.

The sensation is overwhelming, her heat, her tightness. It's like coming home.

She rides me with a ferocity that takes my breath away.

The creek babbles nearby, a serene contrast to the wild passion between us.

Her hair falls around her face, a curtain of dark silk framing her flushed cheeks.

She looks like a goddess, and right now, she's mine.

"Look at me," I command, and her eyes snap to mine.

There's something primal in her gaze, something that matches the hunger in my own.

"Right there," I groan, guiding her movements. "Just like that."

We move together, finding a rhythm that's all our own.

Each thrust, each grind brings us closer to the edge.

Her nails dig into my chest, leaving marks, but I couldn't care less. It only adds to the intensity.

"I want you to come for me," I urge, my voice rough with need.

"Say it again." She moans.

I grab her by her throat and keep my hand there, but not too tight. "Come for me, Jordyn."

Before I know it, she tightens up around me and we're both tumbling over the edge, spiraling into oblivion.

Her body clenches around mine, and I lose myself in the feeling, the connection.

For a few precious moments, everything is perfect.

But reality hits hard and fast.

"Fuck," I curse, searching for my phone. "What time is it?"

"What does it matter?" she asks, still catching her breath.

"I gotta pick up some Zorro, Ruby, Axel and Rosa from the airport." I gently shift her off me, regret washing over me at the loss of contact. "I'm sorry babe, but we have to go."

"If I bitch and moan it won't make a difference, will it?" she playfully jokes.

I shake my head, "I'm afraid not, baby."

We scramble to pack up the picnic and get everything back to where it needs to be.

We toss everything onto the four-wheeler, securing it with the ratchet strap.

I help her climb on, then swing my leg over, revving the engine.

"Hold on tight," I tell her, feeling the adrenaline kick in again, but this time for a different reason.

"Twist my arm why don't you?" she playfully replies, wrapping her arms around my waist.

And as we tear through the property, racing against the clock, I can't help but think how lucky I am.

Not just to have Jordyn, but to have this life, this family.

I barely make it back to the garage in time to hop in one of the trucks the club owns and race toward the airport.

I pull up to the airport in record time, the old truck rumbling beneath me like a restless beast.

The airport's busy, people scurrying around like ants on a mission.

I spot Zorro and Axel almost immediately—hard to miss those two with their leather cuts and imposing presence. Their ol' ladies, Ruby and Rosa, are right beside them.

"Hey, brothers!" I call out, leaning out the window.

"Bama," Zorro grins wide, slapping Axel on the back. "Look who decided to show up."

"Yeah, yeah," I smirk, hopping out of the truck. "Traffic was a bitch."

"Sure it was," Rosa says, giving me a knowing look.

She steps forward, wrapping me in a tight hug. "Missed you, little brother," she whispers in my ear. Her voice is soft but carries that edge of steel I've always admired.

"Missed you too, sis," I reply, squeezing her back before pulling away.

Rosa isn't technically my blood, but she's the closest thing to a sister that I have.

"Let me help get your stuff loaded up," I say, eyeing the bags at their feet.

"Axel, help him out," Rosa orders, crossing her arms.

Axel grumbles but moves to grab the bags anyway.

"How's Billings been treating you?" Zorro asks as the three of us load up the truck bed.

"Better than expected," I admit, wondering how much I should tell him. "I got a good thing going here."

"Good to hear," Zorro claps his hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "We need all the stability we can get."

"Tell me about it," I mutter under my breath.

Axel grumbles at the ladies, slamming the tailgate shut. "I think that's everythin'. What is with you two packin' so much shit for a few days trip?"

"Let's roll then," I say, climbing back into the driver's seat.

They pile into the truck, Rosa taking the passenger seat beside me. She looks out the window, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Feels good to be back," she murmurs.

"Yeah," I agree, starting the engine. "it's nice to have you all back, even if the trip is a short one."

As we drive away from the airport, the conversation shifts to business—club matters, updates from the Mexico charter, plans for Dex's graduation party tomorrow.

Rosa asks suddenly, breaking me out of my thoughts. "How's Jordyn?"

Fuck.

I told her Jordyn and I were dating in confidence.

No one else knows.

"She's . . . amazing," I admit, dropping my tone a tad. There's a warmth spreading through my chest. "Uh, it's not known around the club yet. We're keeping it on the DL."

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry." she cringes, seeing where she messed up.

"It won't be on the DL for long," Zorro pipes up.

I glance in the rear-view mirror, "It better. We aren't ready to let the cat out of the bag yet."

Ruby jabs Zorro in the side, "You'd better keep your flappers shut."

Zorro huffs, "Fine. You had to get my ol' lady on me, didn't you?"

The ride back is filled with laughter and stories, the kind that make you feel like you're home even when you're miles away from where you started.

Rosa fills me in on the latest antics from down south, and Zorro recounts a wild bar fight they got into last month.

Axel mostly listens, interjecting now and then with his dry humor.

"Sounds like you guys never catch a break," I say, shaking my head with a grin.

"Who wants a break?" Rosa teases, nudging my arm. "Life's more fun at full throttle."

"True that," I agree, feeling a sense of belonging that only comes from being around people who understand you, scars and all.

As we pull up to the clubhouse, the sun's setting behind us, casting long shadows over the gravel lot.

The sight of the Reapers Rejects MC logo painted on the building gives me a sense of pride.

This is where I belong.

Ruby quips as she hops out of the truck. "Home sweet home,"

"Let's get inside and grab a drink," Zorro suggests, already heading for the door. Axel follows, nodding in agreement.

"Sounds perfect," Rosa says, linking her arm with mine as we walk. "I've missed this place almost as much as I've missed you."