Each evening, Tatum transfers a few pieces of her clothes into my room. After she successfully sucks me off—and I make her very loudly come as a thank you—she moves her last few belongings from the guest room into the master. The photos of her mother make this house into Tatum’s home.

“We should have eaten first,” she says after we collapse on the couch. “Have you noticed we have sex more on the couch than anywhere else?”

I rest my head on the other end of the couch and play with her left foot on my chest. “Oh, I’m certain we’ve fucked more in the bed. What we need to do is get busy in the kitchen. I’m thinking you on your back, spread eagle on the kitchen island with your left leg pointing upward while I nail you from my spot on the step stool.”

“That sounds awful.”

“For you, sure, but I’ll be on a step stool, Tatum. Gotta keep these things in mind.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. Step stools are on my bucket list.”

“That’s why I love you.”

Tatum closes her eyes and hums for nearly a minute. “I’m nervous about meeting Bonn.”

“He used to be a stripper.”

Opening her eyes, she stares at me. “Why do you always tell me that?”

“Because how scary can a male stripper really be?” I say and then add, “Well, that’s assuming you’re not banging him. I’d think male strippers might be riddled with diseases.”

“But he’s not a stripper now.”

“No, he’s not. Still, he was, and Howler would never strip to support his family. See how they’re different kinds of men?”

“Yeah, I see,” she whispers and smiles. “Would you strip to support your family?”

“Sure, and I’d make a shit ton with this body,” I say, gesturing at all my sexiness.

Tatum grins approvingly. “And our children would be so proud of you.”

“I want a little Tatum so fucking bad that I feel I ought to fuck you every hour to ensure you’re always full of my baby seed.”

“Okay,” she says, and I laugh at her casual acceptance of THE sex now.

“Tomorrow, don’t be afraid of Bonn. He’s a simple man. Not a monster. Not a Howler. He loves his wife and kids and barbecue. I think he might also like sports, but I wasn’t really paying attention when I used to hang out there. This might be difficult for you to believe but I was a pretty selfish teenager.”

“No farting way.”

I hold Tatum’s gaze for as long as possible. She refuses to cuss because she’s a stubborn bitch. I love this quality despite her refusal to cuss. We’ve accepted our current standoff, but I still think I’ll turn her into a trash-talking trucker eventually.

“Dang it,” Tatum says the next day as we walk to Bonn’s front door.

“Fucking shit would sound better,” I mutter. “More intimidating.”

“I nearly dropped my phone, so who am I trying to intimidate?”

“Me, Breezy. Gotta keep your man on his toes.”

Snickering, she gives my ass a quick slap and then looks shocked by how she touched my butt in public. She’s such a wild harlot!

I knock on the door, and Bonn again answers immediately. Ignoring me, his gaze focuses on Tatum. “Wow, you don’t look anything like Howler. It’s amazing how you didn’t take after him at all.”

Tatum smiles at the compliment. “I looked at an old photo of him until I’d memorized his every feature, and I feel safe to say you must take after your mother too.”

“We got lucky,” Bonn says, sharing her smile.

I rest my hand on Tatum’s shoulder and sigh. “Say what you want about Howler’s loser personality, but he sure knocked up some fine fucking women.”

Bonn exhales loudly. “You always have to say shit like that.”

“Sorry, Dad. Now can we come inside because it’s fucking cold out here.”

Stepping back, Bonn gestures for us to enter. Tatum surprises me by walking in front of me and into the house. She does glance back to make sure I’m following.

The holiday spirit is strong in the Fletcher home. Garland hangs from the door. Poinsettias decorate the fireplace. Tinsel drapes the doorways. I’m surprised they don’t have their Christmas tree up a month and a half early.

“Tatum, we’re glad you’re here,” Ruby says, appearing from the kitchen with her nearly eighteen-year-old son close behind.

“What about me?” I ask and hand her the bags of food. “Hey, Adric.”

“Hey,” the skinny teenager mumbles, shier than any kid his age ought to be.

Tatum and Ruby take the food to the kitchen while Adric lingers in the doorway. He keeps an eye on the women and also Bonn and me.

“Has Howler bothered her at all?”

“Why would he?”

“I guess he wouldn’t.”

“Does he ever hassle you?”

“Of course not. Though,” Bonn pauses to glance back at the kitchen before continuing, “he did show up at my office a few years ago to chat about my kids.”

“Why?”

“I asked him what the fuck he wanted, and Howler just said he was curious about me. I told him I was about three decades past giving a shit, and he needed to get out of Common Bend. He told me to fuck off and left. That was the last I heard from him.”

“Old people are very odd.”

“He doesn’t run the club. Camden and Dayton have no interest in his feedback. He doesn’t do anything besides sleep with young women and drink too much. His sisters wrote him off. I think he realized his life was pointless, so why not pretend he gives a shit about his kids and grandkids? It was pitiful.”

“Well, he better keep his interest far away from Tatum. I don’t want to have to kill him and force the Rutgers boys to pretend they give a shit about a dead uncle.”

“It would be very unfortunate for Howler to go out in a way that causes problems between the towns. On the other hand, that would so fucking be his way of dying. Not pathetic and alone, but going out in a messy way that leads to the Brotherhood making an issue with your family.”

“Don’t you worry. I have someone to take the fall if I need to kill Howler.”

“It’s not someone I know, is it?”

“Like I’m going to tell you that.”

“I thought we were on the same side.”

“We are, but I’m a private man.”

Bonn shoots me a dirty look and walks into the kitchen. I’m left alone with Adric still lingering halfway between the rooms.

“Do you graduate next year?” I ask him.

Nodding, Adric stares at where his parents whisper with Tatum. I inch closer to hear what they’re saying, and I’m fucking glad I do.

“You have options,” Ruby says to Tatum. “We have space here. We could also find you an apartment to stay at.”

“I have a place to stay.”

“Relying on someone as much as you do Chipper might not be healthy.”

“Because I live with him and work for him and have the sex with him?”

“When my mom passed, I was a married man with two kids. It still messed me up for a while. Making decisions when you’re grieving isn’t smart.”

“But you don’t know me. I could be an awful person, and you want me to stay in your house with your child. What if I’m a drug addict or thief?”

“You’re not, though.”

“How do you know?”

“Chipper would have said something. He has no filter.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Tatum says, and I catch her smiling. “Chipper is special, and my mother led me to him. She didn’t have good taste when it came to Howler, but she chose perfectly for me with Chipper.”

“I thought your mom died before...” Bonn whispers before Ruby gently stops him.

Ruby holds Bonn’s hand and smiles. “Her spirit brought them together.”

“Like fate?”

“Like how we were meant to be together,” Ruby says and opens a cabinet for plates. “Tatum knows what she needs.”

Bonn sighs softly before nodding. “But you know you always have a safe place here if you need it.”

“Thank you,” Tatum says and hugs her half brother. “Chipper told me you were a good man.”

“Damn, woman,” I mutter, entering the room. “Don’t sell me out that way.”

“Good man, huh?” Bonn says, smirking. “I knew I had you wrapped around my little finger.”

“Fuck off, old man.”

“It’s okay, boy. I think you’re a good man too.”

Rolling my eyes, I feel as if I’m a kid again, and I’m here to have a playdate. Ruby laughs at my expression while Bonn keeps smirking. I ignore them and hug Tatum. Adric decides we’re all friendly enough that he can share a room with us. I think to torment him for being an annoying teenager in the way I do Cap, but I sense this moody adolescent will react with tears rather than cussing insults.

So I mind my P’s and Q’s at the Fletcher house, allowing Tatum to get to know her family. She doesn’t need me to save her tonight. No, she’s a hundred percent certain how her life ought to play out, and no one—not even well-meaning types—will sway her from the future awaiting us.