I lay my head on Deuce’s chest, careful of his shoulder wounds and wrap my arms around his midsection. My fingers trace the letters on his abdomen, gliding over the single word.

Unscarred.

We all have wounds. We all have scars. Like tattoos they tell the story of your life. They mark the highs and lows of your ride. Some scars are visible while others remain hidden. It’s what you make of them that matters. If you let your scars define you then you’ll never get to enjoy the beautiful things.

The simple things that make every trial and tribulation worthwhile.

The things that make all your nightmares fade and allow you to dream.

“Who says sinners don’t end up in heaven?” Deuce mutters, causing me to lift my head from his chest.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmur as his hooded gaze bores into me.

“You didn’t. The pain meds must be wearing off,” he replies as he struggles to wrap his good arm around my shoulders.

“Should I go grab Celeste?”

“No, I don’t need Celeste.”

“What do you need then?”

“You,” he says with a lazy smile. “My fearless Bonnie.”

“I’m a badass.”

“Yeah, you are. There aren’t too many girls who would’ve done what you did.”

“Sure there is,” I argue.

“No, there’s not. You’re special, Ally. You’re the woman men dream they will find, the woman they roam the whole fucking world looking for and never find.”

“You found me.”

“Yeah, and I ain’t ever letting go.”

“You promise?” I pause and roll my eyes. “Oh, wait, I forgot you don’t make promises.”

“Wiseass,” he grunts, clearing his throat. “You know where my pants are?”

I glance down at the sweatpants hung low on his waist and shake my head.

“I think Celeste threw them out.”

“Well, shit. Did she empty the pockets at least?”

Biting my lip, I turn toward the breakfast nook and spot his wallet but I can’t tell if there is anything else over there.

“Your wallet is on the counter,” I say, turning back to him.

“Grab it, please.”

Carefully, I maneuver myself over him and off the couch. As I stand he reaches for my sweatpants, tugging me closer. I nearly tumble but then I feel his hand on my ass.

“Goddamn,” he groans, giving it a forceful squeeze. I swat his hand away and grab the wallet. When I return, I hold the wallet out of his reach and eye him skeptically.

“You know you were shot, right?”

“Yep, twice.”

“And you know we’re currently sleeping on my brother’s couch with my niece around who likes to wake in the middle of the night?”

“What’s your point?”

“The point is you don’t need a condom because we’re not having sex.”

“Pity,” he mutters as amusement flickers in his eyes. “All right, so if sex is off the table does that mean breakfast is too?”

“If you’re hungry I can make you toast.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, we’re going to have to lay some things out.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I glance at him and then divert my eyes to the orange bottle of pain meds. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe he’s overdosing.

“What are you talking about? You just said you were hungry.”

“No, I mentioned breakfast and you brought up toast. That’s not breakfast, and before you say eggs that ain’t going to cut it either. We’re going to do things right, starting with the first meal of the day.”

“I don’t cook.”

“You don’t have to know how to cook to feed me, darlin’. All you need to do is spread your legs and sit on my face every morning. Ain’t no better way to wake up.”

I laugh out loud.

“Is that so?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles.

“So then, no condoms,” I say as I crawl onto his lap and hand him his wallet.

“Not for breakfast. Hell, not ever. I don’t want anything between us,” he says as he extends his good arm and grabs a hold of my hip. Slowly, he tugs me forward, rocking me against him. “I know you’re just getting your life back and I want to watch you check off all those things on your list.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but in there?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

Releasing my hip, he opens his wallet with one hand and pulls out a book of matches.

“I think it’s safe to say we already created fire,” I tell him as he chucks the wallet onto the floor and hands me the book.

“Damn straight we did. Beautiful fucking fire,” he rasps, flicking open the book of matches.

“A fire that you never want to escape.”

“The kind you can’t,” he murmurs as he brings the book to his mouth and tugs the lone match free. The empty book of matches joins his wallet on the floor and he pulls the match from between his lips and hands it to me.

“Been hanging onto this thing for what seems like forever,” he says. “You’re the last match in the book, Ally. The one that burns until the end.”

I take the match between my fingers and stare at it for a moment before I draw my attention back to him and smile.

Bright like a flame.

“You love me,” I accuse.

“I love you hard,” he confirms. “You and me, we’re going to ride to the end of the line.”

“Just us, Caleb West and Alexandria Richardson,” I whisper as I close my hand around the match and lean down to cover his mouth with mine.

Then I hear Bonnie Parker whisper in my ear.

Yeah, I’m still by his side.

Yeah, I’m Bonnie and he’s Clyde.

Hand in hand, that’s how we ride.

THE END

Hallelujah!