"You cook?" she asks.
"When I have to." I place a sandwich in front of her, then start making my own. "Lived alone most of my life. Had to learn."
She takes a bite, closing her eyes briefly as she chews. When she opens them again, I realize I've been staring at her like somefucking creep. I force myself to look away, focusing on my own food.
What the hell is wrong with me? I don't do this. This midnight kitchen bullshit, this sharing space with someone who isn't a brother, this... talking. Especially not about the past. Yet an hour ago, I told her things I've never told anyone. Not even Reaper knows the details of what happened in that last foster home, the one that finally broke something in me that can never be fixed.
I killed that past. Buried it deep. It should have stayed buried.
But sitting across from this girl… This stranger in a torn wedding dress who punched me in the face twenty minutes ago, I actually feel the words rising in my throat. Dangerous words. True words. The kind that can be used against you.
The same kind of words my brothers have been throwing around lately. Ghost, telling me how Debbie saved him from his darkness. Reaper, defending his relationship because she "sees the man beneath the monster." Even young Ace, grinning like an idiot because the schoolteacher is carrying his kid.
*"Love is a strength, not a weakness, brother,"* Ghost had told me just last week, *"You should try it sometime."*
I'd told him to fuck off. Love is for people who haven't seen what I've seen, done what I've done. For people who still have something left inside them that can feel that shit.
But now, watching Kelly eat the sandwich I made her, her blonde hair falling around her face and her blue eyes clearer than they were when I found her on that roadside, I'm not so sure.
And that scares the shit out of me.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. "You look like you're trying to solve world hunger over there."
I grunt, taking another bite of my sandwich instead of answering. She doesn't push, just continues eating, comfortable with the silence in a way most people aren't.
When we finish, I take our plates to the sink and rinse them. Behind me, I hear her shift on the barstool.
"Do you ever think about the future?" she asks.
I turn, leaning against the counter. "What about it?"
"You know, dreams. Things you want to do. Places you want to go. The life you want to build."
I almost laugh. Dreams? I stopped having those around the time I realized the world was designed to crush them.
"No," I say flatly.
"Never?" She looks genuinely surprised. "Everyone has dreams."
"Not me." I cross my arms over my chest. "I live in the present. Deal with what's in front of me. Planning too far ahead is just setting yourself up for disappointment."
She considers this, head tilted slightly. "That's a sad way to live."
"It's realistic."
"It's limiting." There's no judgment in her voice, just a simple statement of fact. "Even in the worst times with the Vultures MC, I had dreams. They kept me going."
Against my better judgment, I find myself asking, "What dreams?"
A small smile touches her lips, transforming her face. For a moment, I glimpse who she might have been before the Vultures MC, before whatever hardships came before them. Young. Hopeful. Beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with looks.
"I want to open a flower shop," she says, and there's a warmth in her voice I haven't heard before. "Nothing fancy, just a small place with good quality blooms. Somewhere people come for special occasions or just to brighten someone's day."
"Flowers?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice. Of all the things she might have said, that wasn't what I expected.
She nods, her smile widening slightly. "I worked at a flower shop in high school. It was the only job I ever really loved. There's something about flowers, you know? They're so delicate, so temporary, but they bring so much joy. Even in the worst situations, flowers can make things a little better."
I try to picture it. Kelly surrounded by colorful blooms, arranging bouquets, her hands gentle with petals instead of trembling in fear. It's a sharp contrast to the woman I found on the roadside or the one who watched me kill without flinching.
