The noise level on the second floor of the cell block made Jett lose count of how many sit-ups he'd done. He curled his abdomen, pulling himself up, and went back down on his back. Five more times and he called it good. He tried to do two hundred sit-ups a day while he had the cell to himself.

Carbo, his cellmate for the last two years, got himself put in solitary for icing some inmate on another block during lunch a week ago.

His absence wasn't missed.

Jett stood and walked to the bars, holding on with his hands, and let his head fall between his arms. Exercise was the only thing that warmed his body and stopped his joints from aching. The two-inch thick mat he slept on could've been made of steel for how much it failed to cushion his body.

Clanking rattled his cage. "Stanton."

He ignored the call.

"Stanton."

His fingers tightened around the bars. Clem Olson had it out for him. Now, and back when he served time during his first incarceration. The closer he got to release, the harder Olson tried to take him out.

"You're going down, Stanton." Olson laughed. "Fourth rib, man. You'll never make it out."

He lifted his head and pushed away from the bars. Whether Olson had a shiv or one of his cronies, someone was out to stab him. A kill shot.

Less than five minutes later, a guard showed up and opened his cell. "Visitation, inmate."

He walked beyond the bars and stopped. The guard put a tie-strap on him binding his hands behind his back to transport him through the prison.

Out of his peripheral vision, he watched Olson slipping his arm between the bars. He'd need to walk past him. Any sign of stepping out of line on the walk to visitation would have him back in his cell. He wouldn't get to see Sydney.

If he stayed in line, Olson's reach would make contact with him. It wouldn't matter to Olson if he killed or got caught, because he was in on a seventy-year sentence.

The guard ordered him to walk. He looked ahead and strode forward. Nothing would stop him from seeing Sydney. It was time to put his life back together again.

"Watch your back," said Olson under his breath.

He continued walking. Hyper-alert, he never let his guard down. Any of the men along the way would be looking for a way to trip him up.

Down the stairs, through two corridors, he lined up behind the other inmates outside the locked door leading to the visiting room. When the guards came by to check numbers, he said, "Four-four-seven-zero-eight-eight."

The guard snipped the strap binding his wrists together. He dropped his arms to his sides, ignoring the urge to rub his hands. Too many fights, too much abuse, too much riding, too much working the wrench in the garage at Brikken over the years had given him what he suspected was carpel tunnel.

At forty years old, it didn’t take much use to develop a deep ache and tingling in his hands. Half the fucking time, his right hand went numb.

A guard walked down the line, inspecting them all, while someone ahead of him read through the rules, expecting the inmates to be listening.

As his torment grew stronger, the door finally opened.

"Single file, inmates. Mind the rules." The guard stepped back.

He walked into the room, scanning the tables, drawn to the one with two women, and had to take an extra look. There was no mistaking the blue eyes that called to him in silent need. But, Sydney looked nothing like the girl he'd walked out of the visitation on last time.

All her black hair was gone and replaced with light blonde. A color that prompted him to think about warm honey dribbled over toast, reminding him of how hungry he was, and how long it'd been since he was with a woman.

The closer he got to the table, he finally blinked, seeing what made her appearance so shocking. Her makeup, not noticeable at first, accented her eyes and drew attention to her lips, lightly stained as they were blushing from being kissed.

He pulled out the chair, sat, and soaked in the grownup version of Sydney, trying to remember how old she'd be. Nineteen? Twenty? Whatever the exact number it was a far cry from sixteen. She was no longer a young girl trying to be a woman.

Glancing at her sister, she too had changed since he'd seen her in her uniform walking home from school. They could've planned to style their hair the same, the makeup the same because the only difference between the two girls was the clothes they were wearing and the feelings behind their gazes.

Sydney stared at him openly, desperate and familiar, while Kylie avoided his gaze, scared out of her mind to be sitting across from him.

Anyone looking would peg them as sisters. Only a year apart in age, their family genes ran strong. The knowledge of why Sydney had disguised herself when she'd ran away from foster care, hiding her age, her face, her looks, became obvious to him.

She hadn't tried to con him. She'd done what was necessary—her reasons no longer existed, and he assumed they had to do with her sister and being a ward of the state.

He dragged his gaze off Sydney and looked at Kylie. "You're living in my house with your sister. I've given you that, and you owe me the truth."

Kylie glanced at Sydney and then nodded. He tapped his thumb on the table. He'd had years to figure out what exactly went down the day he'd been arrested. Hearing facts added more to the situation.

"The day I met you, you were in the cop car. You never said a word as I was hauled to the police station." He stilled his thumb. "What did you receive for working with the police? Did you do it to get charges dropped on Sydney? To get her out of juvie?"

He wanted her to give him a reason to trust Sydney. Having brothers, a family, a club, he could understand protecting those he loved. He'd done it once, and he'd do it again, even if he ended up in prison. Again.

Kylie shook her head. "I wasn't working with the police."

"Bullshit," he whispered, but the quietness couldn't hide his anger.

Sydney reached over and held her sister's hand. "It's okay."

Kylie's eyes filled with tears. Her waterworks meant nothing to him.

"I lived in a strict foster home," said Kylie, barely audible.

He tuned out the low murmurs in the room and concentrated on Kylie's mouth. The slight tremble of her lips.

"My foster dad would often show up on my walk home from school to check up on me and make sure I was coming straight home. He meant well, both him and my foster mom. They were good parents." Her neck spasmed as she swallowed. "The policeman...he was my foster dad. He stopped and gave me a ride because it had started to sprinkle. When he saw you, he told me to stay in the patrol car. Then, he ran your information and told me he would be transporting you to the station, and I wasn't to talk or look behind me. I-I don't think Mr. Mathew knew you'd talked with me because he never asked me about you. I never said anything during the ride because I didn't want to get in trouble." She glanced at her sister. "Sydney's the one who always got in trouble for protecting me."

His eyes closed momentarily as the truth came out. He had no reason to believe she was lying. His arrest was almost four years ago. She would've had plenty of time to come up with a better story, even take herself out of the equation, for Sydney's sake. But, she hadn't.

He'd met Kylie with his vest off, his pistol in plain view tucked into the back of his jeans. Something he never would've done, but he'd been consumed with finding Sydney. He hadn't wanted to scare Kylie by wearing his leather before he had a chance to talk with her.

The fact it was her foster father who arrested him after seeing him armed and on a motorcycle was a coincidence.

He looked at Sydney, the stubborn tilt of her chin daring him to try and upset her sister, so she could fly across the table and come to Kylie's defense was apparent to anyone in the room.

His little con artist with a heart for only him, unafraid to go up against an inmate. His chest expanded. Chief had been right in raising Johanna from a young age as his life partner, to be beside him as he led Brikken. That kind of devotion that was needed could not come from someone already independent and set in their ways.

He'd had that chance with Sydney.

He ran his hand down his beard and inhaled deeply. Prison fucked with his head. Not having control outside the fence and spending every minute inside with people trying to take him out had turned him paranoid.

To keep himself on tap and aware, safe, he'd concentrated on Sydney's betrayal. His pulse roared. Except, she'd stayed loyal to him, despite him putting her through hell.

He closed his mouth, looked away, and inhaled deeply before facing her again. "Syd, I—"

"I swear, if you call me a liar or send me away as some kind of punishment, I'll walk out the door right now, and you will never see me again." Sydney's upper body shook, adding fervor to her words. "I've given you more years of my life than any other person besides my sister. I'm not giving you one second more, Jett. Not, one second."

Fucking. Hell. He loved her.

Despite his need to be careful who he invited into his life and knowing the mistakes that had been made in the past, there had never been a question that he wanted Sydney. Even when he believed she'd put him in prison.

"I believe you." He leaned forward, keeping his hands on his thighs so he wouldn't break the rules and touch her.

"You do?" She raised her brows and grabbed onto the table, perched on the edge of her seat. "I mean, you should. It's the truth. I've tried to tell you, but you shut me out—"

"Not going to shut you out anymore," he said.

"All I wanted to do was talk to you, and you didn't call or—"

"I'll call you." He balled his fists, hating the space between them.

"Are you going to kick me out of the house when you get released?" She glanced at Kylie. "Kick us out of the house?"

He shook his head. "I want you there. Kylie's welcome to live with us."

Sydney fell back into the chair and gawked at him. Her switch of emotions would've amused him if he hadn't been the one who'd put her through the pain of being pushed away.

She put her hand on her forehead, clicked her tongue, and said, "I don't know what to say. I came here prepared to leave."

"I'd never let you leave." He paused, aware of the time ticking by. "You're doing okay?"

"Yeah...now." She blew out her cheeks and sat up straighter. "I kept telling Kylie that I couldn't leave. I didn't know what I was doing or what I'd say to you, but I knew you wouldn't leave me. I knew it," she said, ending in a whisper.

His chest squeezed. "As long as there are clouds above you," he whispered back.

Sydney's chest rose and fell, but it was her smile he was watching. "Things are okay?"

"Babysitting the Brikken babies has turned into a part-time job."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's easy." She raised her brows. "Wait until you see Stassi. She's not a baby anymore."

He inhaled, clinging to any news about the family. "She's what...four?"

"Almost." She laughed softly. "She's a spazz, and you can't help but love her. Jackie's nine-years-old now and compared to her sister is easy going."

"They're growing up," he murmured, captivated listening to Sydney talk. He'd only had that happiness from her for a short while before they were forced apart. How much he missed seeing the world through her eyes, innocent eyes, was unmeasurable.

He cleared his throat. The last time they were together on the outside, he'd planned to have sex with her. She hadn't been with anyone since doing a two-year stint in juvie. He'd made sure that she had no contact with any men outside of Brikken, and even then, contact was limited to the guys who were fathers or related to him.

"Oh." Sydney turned to her sister. "Can you walk over to the lady at the window and get the change I gave her. She'll watch you to make sure you spend the money at the vending machine. Buy two Snicker bars."

Kylie stood, glanced around, and chose to walk the longest way around the room beside the wall, skirting the other tables and inmates. Jett focused on Sydney.

She leaned forward and whispered. "Chief wanted me to make sure you ate the candy before our visit was over. I promised him I'd get some for you."

"You've been through hell," he whispered.

"So have you." She reached for him.

He shook his head. "No, Syd."

She pulled her hands back. "You only have nine months left."

"Yeah." He couldn't breathe.

"You really meant it when you said you'll come home and not be angry at me. We can go back to how it was before I went to JDH?"

Her underlying fear, unhidden from him, made him want to make damn sure he stayed alive and out of trouble. He needed to be on the outside, with her.

"It'll work." It would be different, there was no going back.

She nodded. "You look tired."

"Beat." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She touched her forehead. "Can I see?"

He lifted his hair. The scar was no longer red and ugly like at her last visit.

Sydney flinched. "Please be careful."

"All the time." He felt time pressing down on him. Soon, they'd announce visitation was over. "Syd...you waited."

"Of course, I waited." She blinked rapidly. "I really want to talk to you. But, not here."

"Yeah." He exhaled, getting a grip. It was easy to lose himself when she was around, and prison wasn't a place to forget where he was.

Kylie returned and put two candy bars on the table. He picked one up and took a bite.

"Thanks," he said, chewing.

Kylie sat down and whispered, "You're welcome. A-and thank you. For letting me stay with my sister."

"You're Syd's family." He took another bite, knowing Sydney had no idea why he pumped up on sugar at the end of the visit. Most attacks took place during transport from and to his cell. Hyped up on sugar, he'd be stronger and have more energy to protect himself. "Who brought you today?"

Only two visitors were allowed in, and he'd had to put their names on the list for approval. Besides his immediate family, Keeffe, and D-Con, he kept everyone else away.

"Kylie." Sydney grinned. "She drove your truck. Chief said it was okay."

He harrumphed. It was his father's way of giving his approval. Whatever happened after Sydney started babysitting at the club had moved Chief into giving Sydney more leeway.

"Visitation is ending. Please tell your loved ones and friends goodbye. You have five minutes," said the male voice over the loudspeaker.

He held perfectly still, leaving his trash on the table. His cock pulsed, aware that his chance at touching Sydney had come.

"Jett." Sydney stood, shaking her head. "You can't."

He'd take the punishment for one kiss. It wouldn't delay his release, only stop him from attending visitations. There was no way in hell he'd be able to stop with only giving Sydney a hug.

He held her gaze and stepped to the side toward her. She skirted the table, keeping an arm's length away from him, unaware of the others witnessing the chase.

"I'm not going to let you ruin my chance at seeing you again," she whispered, grabbing Kylie's arm. "I can't. You can't."

"Syd," he growled.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't let you sacrifice your release for me."

Her tears stopped him. He held perfectly still, tense and vibrating, and finally said, "Nine months."

"Mm-hm." Her voice cracked. "Nine months."

She headed toward the exit. The strength she had was enough for both of them.

He walked to the guard and lined up without taking his gaze off her.

Losing sight of Sydney as the door closed, he looked forward and walked out of the room. Stronger and more determined to make it back to her.