We’re not just traveling together anymore.
We’re not just protector and protected.
We’re together.
Really together.
And as Vegas looms larger on the horizon, I’m not thinking about the end of our journey.
I’m thinking about the beginning of something else entirely.
A life with Clover as my Old Lady.
And damn, it feels right in every fucking way.
Chapter Thirteen
PHOENIX
Pioneer Saloon sits like something out of an old Western movie, all weathered wood and charm. The parking lot is gravel, and there are actual bullet holes in the walls from some long-ago gunfight. It’s exactly the kind of place that has stories to tell.
“This is perfect,” Clover chimes as we park. “It has so much character.”
Dracula meows from his makeshift carrier, probably smelling the history of a hundred years’ worth of bar fights and bad decisions.
“Stay here, demon cat,” I tell him, cracking a window. “We’ll bring you something.”
“You realize you’re talking to him like he understands you, right?” Clover points out, clearly amused.
“He does understand me. He just chooses to ignore everything I say.”
“Sounds familiar,” she teases, and I can’t help but grin.
The inside of the saloon is even better than the outside. Dark wood, vintage photographs, and more bullet holes in the walls. The kind of place where stories are born and legends live on forever.
We grab a booth near the window where I can keep an eye on the truck and Dracula. The owner, a weathered guy who looks as if he might have been here when some of those bullets were flying, comes over with menus. “First time at Pioneer?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Clover says. “This place is incredible. The history you must have seen.”
His eyes light up. “Oh, the stories this place could tell. Built in 1913, and I swear some of the original customers are still hangin’around.”
“Hanging around?” I ask.
“Ghosts,” he says matter-of-factly. “Place is haunted as hell. Had a paranormal investigation team come through last year. They said there’s definitely unfinished business keepin’ spirits tied to this place.”
Clover and I share a look across the table.Unfinished business.The words hit different when you’re sitting across from someone who’s become your unfinished business.
“Must make for interesting nights?” Clover asks.
“You have no idea. But they are friendly enough. Just… reluctant to move on, you know? Sometimes the best things are worth staying for.”
I glance across at Clover, knowing exactly what he means. A life with Clover as my Old Lady is going to be a fight, but she is worth fighting for.
Every. Damn. Day.
After deciding what we would like to eat, he takes our order and heads off. Then Clover reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Unfinished business,” she says quietly.
“What about it?”
