I take a deep breath, organizing thoughts that are still forming as I speak them. "I'm saying I don't want this—us—to end when I leave Sweetheart County."
"So what, we date long-distance?" she asks skeptically. "You ride in for weekends when you can get away from club business?"
"Maybe at first," I admit. "But there might be another option."
Her eyebrows raise, encouraging me to continue.
"Sweetheart County has a problem," I say, sitting up slightly against the arm of the couch, keeping her cradled against me. "Dylan is just a symptom of a larger issue. Money and influence trumping justice. People like Lilly have no real protection when the system fails them."
Katty nods slowly, recognition dawning in her eyes. "You're thinking about what I said earlier. About this town needing something to upset the status quo."
"An MC chapter," I confirm. "A legitimate one, with roots in the community but the strength to stand against corruption when necessary."
"You'd start a new chapter here?" She sounds both intrigued and skeptical. "Would your president even allow that?"
It's a valid question. Expansion isn't something MCs take lightly. New territories mean new responsibilities, new potential for conflict.
"Hellfire has been talking about expansion for a while," I explain. "He believes we're strong enough now to establish presence in neighboring counties. It would take convincing, but with a solid business plan and local support, it could work."
"A business plan?" she repeats, a smile tugging at her lips. "You sound more like an entrepreneur than an outlaw biker."
I return her smile. "The best MCs are both. We run legitimate businesses that serve the community. Auto shops, security firms, sometimes bars or tattoo parlors. The protection aspect is... supplementary."
She considers this, her analytical mind clearly working through the implications. "And you'd want to lead this new chapter? Leave the main club?"
"Maybe," I acknowledge. "Have to prove I can build something from the ground up, not just enforce rules others have established. But yes, eventually, that would be the goal."
Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, her touch gentle but grounding. "That's a big change to consider based on one night together, Tank."
"It's not just about us," I assure her, though she's not entirely wrong. "It's about Lilly too. About not having to ride twentyhours every time she needs help. About creating something that serves a purpose beyond just surviving."
I can see she's not fully convinced, and I appreciate her caution. It's one of the things I already admire about her. She doesn't get swept away by grand gestures or impulsive promises.
"Let me ask you something," she says after a moment. "If I weren't in the picture at all, if last night hadn't happened between us, would you still be considering this?"
The question gives me pause. I want to reassure her, to say of course I would, but she deserves honesty.
"Probably not right now," I admit. "But the seed would be planted. The need is real, whether or not we happened."
She nods, accepting this. "And what would this look like, practically speaking? You'd need members, a base of operations..."
"I'd bring in a few trusted brothers from Cedar Falls to start. Men who are ready for more responsibility but blocked by the club's hierarchy. One or two prospects. We'd establish a clubhouse, probably connected to a business—a garage makes the most sense given our skills."
As I speak, the idea becomes more concrete, more plausible. I've always been good at tactical planning, at seeing the steps needed to achieve an objective.
"It would take time," I continue. "Six months, maybe a year to establish properly. There would be resistance, not just from the Thomas family but from other power structures in town. Change is never easy."
"No, it isn't," she agrees softly.
Outside, the first hints of dawn lighten the sky through the curtains. We've talked through the night, naked on her couch,planning a future that seemed impossible twenty-four hours ago.
"What about you?" I ask finally. "You mentioned that university position up north. Would you still want that?"
She's quiet for a moment, considering. "I applied because I was restless. Because I felt like I was just existing here, not really living." Her eyes meet mine, clear and direct. "But if there was something worth staying for—something that mattered, something that could make a difference—I might reconsider."
"And us?" I press gently. "What do you want from that?"
Her smile turns wry. "You mean beyond mind-blowing sex on my couch?"
