Rowe (Henchmen MC Next Generation 4)

The next day had involved a trip back to my doctor to check on the progress of my back. Which was terrible timing since I’d just tweaked it. But he’d been hopeful while telling me to be careful not to overdo it and set myself back.

Then Billie had her standing craft day with her mom first thing this morning.

We hadn’t gotten much alone time together.

But since shit had been settled with the stalkers, we were safe to go back to Billie’s place. And I, for one, was excited to get some time alone with her that didn’t involve the possibility of one of our loved ones—especially her father—walking in or overhearing.

All things said, the conversation with Sugar had been relatively painless. It worked in my favor that I had a long history working and fighting alongside him. And that I didn’t exactly have the history of going through women as much as men like Dezi and Sway and several of the others did. It also didn’t hurt that Malc had as much respect for me as he did.

Sugar just had to do the dad thing. I got that. I expected nothing less. I imagined that if I got to have a girl one day, I would be doing the same thing when she was old enough to start dating.

“I’m driving,” Billie insisted. “You need to stay off that bike for a while,” she told me, wrapping an arm around my lower back as we made our way out the front door.

“I wasn’t about to object,” I told her as we got to her van. I was pretty sure the bike ride was what had tweaked my back so hard that night, not so much the rushing around part.

“That bad, huh?” she asked as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

“It’s better today than yesterday. Tomorrow will be better than today,” I added, reaching over to give her thigh a squeeze as she pulled out of the clubhouse gates.

“Careful, Rowe, that sounds dangerously close to optimism to me,” Billie said, shooting me a smirk as she waited at a stop sign.

“What can I say, I suddenly have a lot of shit to look forward to,” I told her, feeling the truth of it down to my bones.

I wasn’t someone who believed shit like this, but something about every time I was with Billie felt “right.” Down to my bones right.

And because of that, I was thinking about shit. Future shit. A woman in my house shit. In particular, Billie bouncing around my kitchen making soup or herbal tea blends. And Billie in the yard doing yoga every morning. And Billie cuddled close on the couch in front of a warm fire with a couple of kids opening Christmas presents while we watched.

Was it soon?

Yes.

And no.

I’d known Billie for years. So while the relationship part was new to me, she wasn’t. I’d seen high and lows and crazy antics and heard even crazier stories. I felt like I knew her well enough to know that there was potential for something more. For everything.

“Are you crying?” I asked, looking over to find her blinking rapidly.

“Not crying exactly,” she admitted. “Ugh, okay, a little,” she said as she reached up with one hand to wipe at her cheek.

“Why?”

“Listen, sir,” she said, giving me fake stern eyes. “I had super high hopes for us. And then you dashed them. Then there were months of feeling really crummy. And now we are back to the high hopes thing, and you’re on board this time, and it is just a little much, okay?”

“I was a dick,” I said.

“You were,” she agreed, nodding.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she agreed, shooting me a blurry-eyed smile. “I think I was just repressing everything for a long time and now I am feeling it all at once. I need to meditate about it, process it all, and let it flow through me.”

I’ll admit I had no idea what that meant exactly. But that was part of what was so fascinating about Billie. How different she was from anyone I’d ever known. Penis mugs and pussy earrings and all.

“Did you spill something?” I asked as we made our way into her apartment. There was a fine white powder and what looked like herbs and flower petals all over the carpets.

“What? No.”

“Babe, you don’t see the shit on the floor?” I asked, waving down at it.

“Oh, that. I’m cleaning the carpets.”

“You’re gonna need to explain that to me. How does making a mess clean anything?”

“It’s baking soda and herbs,” she said, shrugging as she put her things down and kicked out of her shoes.

“Keep it coming,” I invited, still not getting it.

“Oh, well baking soda deodorizes and herbs and flowers put good smells in after. Then you vacuum it all up. Oh, and there’s a little salt in there too this time.”