The yard was conspicuously empty when he pulled the bike into the barn. Had Take dragged everyone off somewhere? Tough call. He'd be grateful if the man had, and Tex made a mental note to thank him later. After the way he and Jessie had jetted off—well, he had a reputation, and there was no real other reason they would have peeled out of here except to go enjoy themselves without an audience. At least, no other reason the Sons would know about.

 

He walked the bike into the barn, and then helped Jessie off. She was moving stiffly. He knew it was probably the bike ride, but he gave himself exactly one moment to be lewdly proud of himself for fucking her that hard.

 

They walked together back to the front porch, which still had a rickety hanging swing. She settled herself in it while he went inside for a couple of bottles of soda in glass bottles. He brought back a Coke and a ginger ale; he held them both out to her, and she chose the green bottle. "Thanks," she said.

 

"My pleasure," he said. He would have preferred a beer, but he wasn't sure how she'd take that just now. She seemed to have a lot on her mind, even after the conversation about Danny. He settled in the swing with her and braced one booted foot, swaying them gently in the light afternoon breeze.

 

"So what happens now," she said, after a long wait.

 

"How do you mean?"

 

"With us. With finding Danny's murderer. With these Racketeers, and what they want for Castello."

 

"With us?"

 

"Mostly with us. Right now. I'm sorry to be that girl. The answer can be anything, and I'll be fine, I really will, but I need to know. I don't want to leave and—and be confused."

 

She was tracing patterns in the condensation on the outside of her bottle. He touched the back of her hand with a finger, and she reached out, taking his hand. They sat there like a couple of high school kids, swinging.

 

He wanted that life. He wanted it so hard it turned his guts inside out. He'd spent years debating what Danny would have done, if he hadn't been run down in the street. He was pretty sure Danny would have made noise about being grossed out that Tex was fascinated by Danny's little sister. But the three of them had always been together. It would have made sense in a way that would have run bone-deep. It would have made him and Danny brothers for real, brothers for life. He needed to believe Danny would have come around. It was the only way he'd been able to make peace with loving the girl this much, for this long.

 

And what she'd said, about this meaning Danny had died for some kind of reason—he didn't believe in fate, because there was no God or karma or fate that could determine a 14-year-old boy would die and be worthy of belief—but he could believe in her belief. As little sense as that made.

 

"Are you going to be pissed if I say I have no idea?"

 

"Nope. It's inconvenient, but at least we're on the same page." She squeezed his hand a little tighter, and the words I love you bubbled around in his throat. He didn't let them out; it was way too soon for that sort of nonsense. Even if it wasn't really nonsense.

 

"You mean you aren't completely overwhelmed by my sexual prowess, impressively sized manhood, and debonair attitude?"

 

She raised an eyebrow, then busted into laughter at his expression of romantic hero perfection.

 

"How about this," he said. "I'd really like to take you to dinner. We were talking about coffee earlier, but it never happened. I have to check on a few things in town, and then maybe we can go to an actual restaurant. What do you think?"

 

Her expression was conflicted. "I'm not sure-"

 

"That you want to be seen with me?" He looked down at his body, road dirty, tattooed, scarred. "I clean up better than you'd think."

 

"It's not that," she said, but in a tone that implied it was exactly that, she just didn't want to admit it. He tried not to let that hurt too much. She'd clearly been living the clean life up here, and here he was, busting in on all of that like it was nothing to write home about. Like his life was for everyone. But he would have been lying if he'd tried to say it didn't hurt at all, and after a moment of considering, he let some of that hurt shine in his eyes. "Sorry," she said.

 

"I get it," he said. "Not the first time I've been the piece on the side."

 

She winced hard. "That's not how I want to see you. I don't know how to feel right now. This feels like a dream. It feels like I'm going to go home and wake up and find out it was all just a big tease. And I don't know how to reconcile that with dinner dates."

 

He nodded, pushing himself to believe her. "So what do you want to do?"

 

She shook her head, silent.

 

His heart pounded as he saw an opportunity that he hadn't thought he'd get so soon. "I have a dumb idea."

 

"Oh?"

 

"So, I was actually heading to Delilah's Do for a reason yesterday, and not just to see you. Seeing you was a bonus."

 

"Okay."

 

"I saw the ad online that she has a space open for a massage therapist."

 

She actively leaned away from him. "You?"

 

"It's so unbelievable? You've felt the strength in my hands." He watched her eyes narrow, and he huffed out an annoyed breath. "I swear, if you make a joke about happy endings, this non-relationship is over. I went to school for this, whether you believe it or not."

 

"Sorry," she said. "Most of the massage therapists I've encountered have been. Um."

 

"Goofier?"

 

"Hippies."

 

"Committed to their woo."

 

"Yes."

 

"I'm not like that."

 

"I gathered."

 

"So, you think she'd be interested in a tattooed biker working as a massage therapist in her salon?"

 

Jessie looked him up and down again, but this time her gaze was more clinical. "You really do have a license? You're not just saying this as an excuse to get me in a room with a massage table and hot oil?"

 

He put his hand on his chest in a total affectation. "As if I would besmirch my honor with such a thing."

 

Jessie had to laugh. "I'll talk to her," she said. "Applicants haven't exactly been knocking down the door, so I'd say your odds are good. She will want references, though."

 

"I have them."

 

"Cool."

 

He watched her for a long minute. "You're surprised I have a legit profession, aren't you?"

 

"Nope."

 

He stared at her for another moment.

 

"No. Really, no. I mean, I was going much more stereotypical, but. I'd like to believe you wouldn't turn up back in my life just to screw it up, so, no, I was not automatically assuming the worst about you." She leaned against him for the first time. His entire side tingled, and then she laid her head on his shoulder, and he thought he might explode with the joy that shivered through him. "I want this to work," she said, and her voice was low, pitched for no one else. "But wanting it to work is terrifying. Because yeah, I've known you my entire life, but there's also a 15-year blank spot. And I deserve some time to be okay with that."

 

"You do," he said. "I'm sorry for pushing."

 

She leaned up to him, touching his cheek and bringing his lips down to hers. "Nothing to be sorry about. But I should head back to town. I didn't have any appointments today, but I should talk to Delilah, about this, and about some other stuff. So I should go." There was a long silence, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as the first few. "I want to do dinner," she said. "I'm sorry it took me some time to be okay."

 

"I'm not everyone's cup of tea," he said. "But I made the choices I did to survive."

 

"I believe you."

 

"Thank you," he said, nodding.

 

She stood, kissed him once more, and then walked down to her car, sliding behind the driver's seat, backing up carefully, and driving away with appropriate use of turn signals, even though not a single car had passed between when they'd parked the bike and when she'd approached the road. He found himself smiling. It felt good.