Mornings at TM are always kind of peaceful. There usually wasn't much traffic, the office smelled delightfully of instant coffee, and it was quiet…for the most part. It was quiet, excluding the rumbling of motorcycles and the construction crew working on the clubhouse. They were making great progress, and after checking in when I arrived, I could see the finished clubhouse within reach.
I walked into the office to find Chucky tapping away at a calculator. Juice was inside, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Cal," he said.

"Hey," I said, taking my sunglasses off and setting my bag on top of a file cabinet.

Chucky looked up at me and smiled.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he said.

I raised an eyebrow at him. He was a sweetheart, but the dude could be a little odd. Not that I minded, of course.

"Sí, buenas días, amigo," I replied, not knowing any French and deciding on Spanish.

Chucky just smiled and nodded. Juice turned to me.

"You want some, Cal?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Yeah, sure," I replied.

Juice poured me a cup and handed it to me. I thanked him and doctored the bitter plant matter water with what the guys had in stock before sitting down on the couch.

"So, I heard a rumor," Juice said, turning around and sitting in the fold-out chair across from me, "Two M/C members were seen possibly having sex out in the open at the rally the other day."

My eyes widened.

"Which M/C?" I asked.

Juice smiled.

"They weren't sure, but I heard they saw two people in cuts on top of a Harley going at it," he said, a big, goofy grin on his face.

I bit the inside of my cheek, using the pain to fight back my embarrassment. Of course, we weren't having sex on the bike, but still.

"Probably two old bikers drunk off their asses," I said.

Really, it could have been anybody.

Juice smirked.

"You and Chibs were pretty touchy all day. Sure it wasn't you two?" he asked teasingly.

I rolled my eyes.

"Positive," I replied.

Juice just laughed as I buried my mouth into my coffee. The office door opened and Chibs and Quinn walked in.

"Hey," Juice said.

I looked up at them as Chibs leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"Reached out to SAMDINO. They agreed to meet halfway. Get to the bottom of this shit. Shut these XMC fuckers down for good," he said.

Juice and I nodded.

"I'm takin' Quinn and Hap. I want the rest of ya to stay here. Keep TM on its toes," he finished.

I looked up at him in surprise.

"Where are you guys going?" I asked.

"There's a quiet meet-up spot off the Interstate. About three hours from here," Quinn replied.

I took a deep breath.

"You guys don't want a Scout to go with you?" I asked, "That's a long way without eyes."

"I know, but we need to keep it low-key," Chibs replied.

I nodded understandingly. That may be true, but it wouldn't keep me from worrying.

"Hopefully we can get some more information on these bastards," he continued.

"Good idea, brother," Juice said.

"We should be back by tonight. I'm leavin' Tig here with ya guys. All of ya behave."

Juice and I nodded.

"We will. You be careful," I said.

Chibs smiled.

"I will, my sweet girl," he said, then leaned down to kiss me, "Come outside for a minute."

I nodded and stood up. Chibs turned to Quinn.

"Go wait for me," he said.

Quinn nodded.

"You got it, Prez," he said, then lumbered out the door.

Chibs held the door open for me and guided me out, a hand on my lower back.

"I need ya to do me a favor. I forgot to get it done this mornin'," he said as we walked out to his bike.

I followed him around the bike to the left side saddlebag. He opened it and pulled out a black handgun.

"I meant to put this in the safe this mornin'. When ya get a chance, run home and put it up?" he asked.

I nodded and took the gun.

"Sure," I replied.

Chibs reached into his back pocket to produce a well-worn leather wallet. He opened it and pulled out a piece of wrinkled paper that had been "laminated" with clear packing tape.

"Here's the combination. Safe's on the top shelf of my closet in my bedroom," he replied.

I smiled.

"Got it," I replied.

Chibs smiled.

"Thank-you," he said, then cupped my face and placed an eager kiss on my lips.

"I love you. I'll be back soon, 'kay?"

I nodded.

"I love you, too, sweetheart," I replied.

Chibs smiled and kissed me once more before hugging me and shutting the lid to the saddle bag. I stepped back and watched as he, Happy and Quinn started their bikes. Chibs put his helmet on and winked at me before revving the engine and taking off, Happy and Quinn following suit. I waited until they were out of the lot before looking down at the gun and deciding to go ahead and take it home now. Get it out of the way.
I slipped the paper into my pocket and put the gun in my bike before going back into the office. Chucky was on the phone and Juice was in the garage, putting his work shirt on.

"Hey, Chucky," I said quietly.

Chucky looked up.

"I'm going to run an errand. I'll be back in little while."

Chucky smiled, nodded, and covered the receiver.

"Drive safe. I'll tell Tig," he said.

I nodded and turned back around to get my bike and run home.

The house was quiet, and despite the cold wind, a bird seeking shelter in the roof of the carport was chirping its little head off when I arrived. I parked under the carport, retrieved the gun, and let myself in the side door. I could still hear the bird as I walked down the hall, but it was gone when the heater kicked on.
I walked down the hall, traveling to the end and to Chibs' bedroom. I felt weird touching the doorknob, like I was stepping into a forbidden area. I had never traveled passed the utility room. Chibs' room was around a corner, completely secluded from the rest of the hall. I took the brass doorknob in my hand and turned it, pushing the door open to be greeted by warm light. The inside, however, took me by surprise.
Chibs was your typical man, and only cleaned what he needed to. Not too into organization and could care less about serious decorating. However, he had tried. The living room was a prime example. Most guys, especially if they lived alone and cared more about the condition of their bikes and if there was beer left in the fridge, didn't give a shit. Chibs had made an effort to keep up appearances. The couch was leather, and like all of his leather, it was well-maintained. The recliners were exactly alike, both leather, but a tad bit lighter than the couch. The end tables matched, the lamps matched, and the old red rug under the coffee table seemed to compliment the room. It held the charm of my dear Scotsman, and the bedroom was not much different.
Inside, the first thing you see is an antique dresser with a mirror and an old chair beside it, sitting at an angle against the far wall. His black leather jacket was tossed across it. The top of the dresser was littered with anything and everything. A pair of socks. Jewelry scattered everywhere. A statue of the SAMCRO reaper. Several bandanas. A small black lamp. Loose change. A rosary hanging from the corner of the mirror. It seemed to be his first stop when he walked in, as it was the messiest spot in the room. The rest of the room was relatively clean, save for a belt that had fallen in the floor. A large window was on the back wall, cream and transparent white curtains hung around it, and you could see a clear view of the back porch and a wedge of the backyard. On the wall opposite was a king bed framed by two matching nightstands, which could only be seen once you actually walk in. The closet protruded from the wall, creating a corner and a blindspot when you walk in. The bed, which had been left unmade, was covered in beige and white bedding, a Harley Davidson throw draped over the foot of the wooden bed frame. White and beige lamps sat on the nightstands, and the one closest to the closet also held a bottle of Aspirin, a plain black digital clock, and a small black cord, which I assumed was his phone charger. Above the bed hung a white ceiling fan from a vaulted ceiling, much like the living room, which would illuminate the eggshell walls at night. I was immediately jealous. My room wasn't nearly this bright, nor was it warm or welcoming. It was actually a very pretty room.
I walked around the corner to the closet and opened the door. Inside were his jackets, coats, and anything else that could not be folded. On the floor was where he hid the secret mess. Several pairs of boots, tennis shoes, slippers, and a box full of no telling. Up above the clothes rack was the shelf, which was loaded with papers and books, but the safe was front and center. I grasped its handle and pulled the heavy, fireproof box down and swung it around onto the bed. I pulled the paper up and carefully read Chibs' chicken scratch, messing up once before getting the safe unlocked. After succeeding, I placed the gun inside, which was filled with nothing more than legal papers. Birth certificate, social security, citizenship papers, and anything else he couldn't afford to loose. I placed the gun inside and closed the safe, making sure it was locked before replacing it and closing the closet. I put the combo on the end table, knowing that if I didn't, I'd lose it today.
I sat down on the edge of his bed for a moment and looked around. I imagined Chibs walking in, shrugging off his cut and knife holster, tossing them in the chair with the jacket. I laid back on the pillow, the rush of air from under my head making a very familiar scent waft up my nose. His scent. The clean, yet slightly spicy and wonderful scent of men's shampoo. In Chibs' case, brand X three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, body wash. Smelled nice, though. It also had a hint of laundry detergent, and like the majority of the house, the aroma of cigarette smoke. He usually smoked in the kitchen or outside, but it followed him everywhere. That, and the smell of genuine leather. It was a scent I had loved all of my life since the formation of The VII. It meant home. Chibs' scent calmed me and sent my mind to a very dark place. I never wanted to not know the scent, or ever forget it. It meant I was not alone. It meant my best friend—my Old Man was around.
I sat up and looked around, not wanting to leave, but knowing I needed to get back to TM. I just wanted to crash on the bed. In living with him, spending hours at a time together, riding either with him or at his side, I had become accustomed to him being around. The idea of him going to meet with SAMDINO shouldn't bother me. He's done runs like this for years, but that nagging worry of my boys roaming without either Juice or myself riding ahead on the hunt for anything that could endanger them would not go away.
I sighed and ripped myself away from the bed before I put my mood in the shitter. Chibs was a grown man. He was fine. It was myself that was in more danger. I was still on the hit list, and though under the protection of SAMCRO, being home alone while my Prez was gone and VP was almost 15 minutes too long away, I needed to get back to TM. I walked over to the chair on the other side of the room and without really thinking about it, picked his belt up and draped it over the jacket, the black always being my favorite over the brown one he had worn today. I then looked back at the room and my mind wandered. It was not impossible that I may upgrade to this room, and even though I had woken up beside him and often on top of him, I wondered what it would be like opening my eyes to his room, the warm morning light flooding in, Chibs peaceful face half buried in the pillow case beside me. I smiled to myself. Maybe one day.

I sat at the TM computer, typing away at a spreadsheet while Chucky instructed me and read off the numbers. He had a device that helped him type quickly with his two index fingers, relieving his handicap, but typing is much easier with all ten and a standard keyboard, and after watching him struggle after pulling a customer's Nissan around, I offered to type it for him. He was grateful, vocalizing his gratitude in French. I just shook my head and dove into the tedious and hair-ripping task of Teller-Morrow bookwork.
As we finished a sheet, Rat burst into the office. Chucky jumped and I looked up to see a very troubled Ratboy Skogstom.

"Hey, Rat," I said cheerfully.

"Hey. Can I talk to you?" he asked, sounding highly irritated.

I shot him a worried look.

"Yeah. You got this, Chucky?" I asked.

He nodded and grabbed his special keyboard.

"Yeah, I got it. Merci," he said.

I stood up from the desk and followed Rat out the door. He led me around the building.

"You knew my girlfriend was pregnant?" he asked accusingly.

Ah, shit!

I shifted my weight on one foot and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Yeah. What did she tell you?" I asked.

Rat was pissed. His eyes were wide and his jaw was set.

"She said she felt sick. I offered to go to the pharmacy and get her whatever she needed. Wouldn't tell me what she needed. Finally found out she's fucking pregnant, and that you and Wendy already knew! What the fuck, Callie?"

I held my hands up before he ripping my head off.

"Hey! Listen to me. That day she came here looking for you. Remember?"

He nodded.

"She was looking for me. Wendy was at work. She was scared. She came to me. I offered to go with her to get a test, she took one, and it didn't come out. That was it. I found out later that the next test came out positive."

"Why didn't you tell me? She's nearly seven weeks pregnant!" he asked.

"Because she needed to tell you," I replied in a calm, but stern voice.

Rat gritted his teeth and put his face in his hands.

"God, Callie! This is fucked up. I don't know what to do!" he said, starting to panic a little.

I stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Rat, look at me," I ordered.

He looked up.

"She's just as scared as you are. Now, you guys have several options, and you need to decide which one to use. You both have to agree on one, because whichever you choose is permanent," I said.

He nodded.

"Abortion's out of the question," he said firmly.

I nodded.

"Okay. Well, there's always adoption."

Rat visibly swallowed and looked down in thought, his eyebrows creasing together.

"I don't know if I want that either," he said, "What…what would you do?"

I stared at him in surprise.

"What would I do?" I reiterated.

"Yeah. What would you do right now if you found out you were knocked up?" he asked, "Chibs' or um, your late-fiancé?"

I felt my shoulders sag. God…

"I would think about my current situation. Money-wise. Living conditions. Club issues. If money was stable, and living conditions were good, or could easily be upgraded, and if the club was not in a bad spot, I would have it. Zero or…Chibs. If those things were not good, I may consider adoption. However, if things are really bad, and I mean, you know, awful, I would consider the third."

Rat nodded. I hoped what I said made sense. I had always wanted to have kids with Zero, but with his health problems, we had no time to plan. But Chibs? It had never crossed my mind. It just didn't seem like a realistic idea.

"How old are you, Rat?" I asked.

"31," he replied, "Brooke's 23."

Oh, Jesus Christ!

"Okay. What do you want?" I asked, "Because you're, I think, mature enough, but Brooke? She's young, man."

His widened.

"I know, but we work," he said, "I want it."

I felt a small smile cross my face.

"What about Brooke?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"We never discussed it. I just…I think she's thoroughly freaked."

I nodded.

"Okay, then you need to tell her you want it. You need to give her a sense of security. She needs to know her man is going to support her every step of the way. You understand? You can't bail on her."

"I won't. God, I love her too much to do that," he said.

"Then talk to her. But look, Rat. If she wants to do something else, then you need to back her on it. It's her body, bro. You were just the sperm donor."

Rat smiled.

"I know. I get it," he replied, then clapped a hand on my shoulder, "Thanks, Cal."

I nodded. Inside the garage, we heard Tig scream out.

"Kids! If you want lunch, you better get your asses in here!" he shouted.

I looked back around the corner to see Juice shutting the doors. Break time.

"Maybe we should ask Pops what he thinks you should do?" I suggested.

Rat laughed.

"Oh, yeah. Tig has the best advice!" he said sarcastically, "He doesn't need to know."

"Everyone will know in a few months, anyway," I said.

Rat groaned and looked up at the sky. I took his arm.

"Come on. Let's go tell Dad he's going to be a Grandpa," I said jokingly.

"Fuck," was all Rat had to say.

We walked into the office to find Tig on the phone.

"Callie, quick. Pizza toppings," he said.

"Cheese or pepperoni. Doesn't matter," I replied.

"Rat?"

"Sausage or pepperoni," he replied.

Tig nodded and ordered two boxes of supreme and two more of pepperoni, along with a couple of bags of breadsticks and a cinnamon calzone. After he hung up, he leaned back in the chair. Chucky was stuffing a file into the cabinet.

"Hey, Chucky, why don't you go into the garage and help clean up for a second?" I asked.

Chucky nodded.

"I accept that," he replied, then scrammed.

Tig looked up at me worriedly.

"Why'd you chase Chucky out?" he asked.

I sighed and shot Rat a look as I sat on the edge of the desk.

"We have to talk to you about something," I said.

Tig's worry deepened.

"Ah, fuck! What did you two steal?" he asked.

Rat laughed.

"Nothing!" we replied in unison.

"Just have a question," I said.

Tig leaned forward.

"What is it, baby girl?" he asked.

I stared at Rat.

"What would you like to be called? Grandpa or just Gramps?" I asked.

Tig stared at me with buggy, frightened eyes.

"Oh my God, you're pregnant!" he exclaimed.

Rat and I burst out laughing.

"No! Fuck no!" I said, but my words went ignored.

"Goddammit! I knew it! It WAS you and Chibby out there fucking at the rally!" he shouted.

I rolled my eyes. Son of a bitch!

"Tig, no! Not me!" I said.

Tig looked from me to Rat. Rat gave him a small smile.

"Brooke's pregnant," he said.

Tig's face fell.

"You dumbass," Tig snarled.

Rat grinned.

"Come on, Gramps," he said.

"Grandad," I teased.

"Grandaddy," Rat said.

"Grandgramp."

"Grandpappy."

"Papa."

"Pops."

"Pappy."

"Pa!"

"Pap-paw."

"SHUT UP!" Tig exploded, then took a deep breath and spoke calmly, "Brooke's pregnant?"

Rat nodded.

"Yeah. Found out this morning. Apparently, the girls already knew," he replied.

Tig leaned forward.

"You and Brooke are too young. What are you going to do?" he asked.

Rat shrugged.

"I know that I want to keep it," he replied.

Tig nodded.

"Then take a lesson for our dearly departed Bobby. Marry her if you truly love her, and don't you dare divorce her because she'll eat you alive with child support bills."

Rat smiled and nodded.

"You think I should?" he asked.

"You already knocked her up!" Tig said.

"Either way, it'll show her you mean you'll take care of her and your kid," I said.

"I do mean it!" he exclaimed, voice cracking.

"Then marry her, boy. And I swear to God, if you ever dare call me Grandpa again, I'll cut your nuts off!" Tig threatened.

Rat smiled and stood up.

"No problem, Pops," he said, then opened the door to the garage, nearly smacking into Juice.

"And if you get knocked up—" Tig said, tapping my arm

"I won't!" I hissed.

Tig paused for a moment.

"I was going to say, if you do, I better be with you at that hospital so I can watch Chibby freak out and pass out," he said.

I laughed.

"I have no plans for that shit, Tig," I assured him.

Tig laughed and patted my leg. Juice entered the room.

"Montez is here, so I'm gonna clock out," he announced.

"'Kay. Why don't you go out and get the pizza. Here," Tig pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed some cash to Juice.

Juice agreed and headed out the door. Tig stood up and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

"It's your man," he sang, then answered it.

I perked up. Tig talked to Chibs for a moment, his responses short, making it impossible to piece together what they were talking about. The call was short, and when it was over, Tig smiled at me.

"He says he's fine and to tell you that he loves you and they'll back back by this evening," he replied.

I smiled. Tig kissed my forehead.

"I know you're worried about him," he said.

I looked down, embarrassed by being proven guilty. Tig gripped my shoulder.

"It's okay," he said .

I nodded.

"Come on. Let's eat some pizza, then you get your ass out of here and spend some time with Juice."

I smiled.

"You two need to go out and play. Go shoot some shit. Unwind," he said.

I nodded and agreed, and followed him outside to get the pizza.

Juice and I decided to head up to the cabin and get away from the world for a little while. There wasn't much to do, as it was really to windy to shoot. So, we went inside, started a fire in the fireplace, and sat around, listening to the radio and idly talking.

"I do know one thing we could do if you're game," Juice said.

I perked up. Juice sat up from laying on the couch and reached into the pocket of his cut, producing a Ziploc bag full of dried green plant matter I immediately recognized.

"Wanna hang with my buds?" he asked with a grin.

I stared at him in shock.

"Holy shit, Juice! Where'd you get that?" I hissed.

Juice shrugged.

"I have a card," he replied, "I get a 20% discount as part owner."

"You've got to be shitting me!"

"I shit you not!"

"What the fuck, Juice? What is it? Chronic?"

Juice laughed.

"No! Blueberry," he replied.

I could only smile. Juice shook the bag.

"Wanna?" he asked.

I grinned.

"You got papers?" I asked.

Juice hopped up and went to a cabinet where he found not only rolling papers, but a one of the boys' stash.

"That's Tig's. He'll kill us if we smoke it," he said.

"Well, let's get into your shit," I said.

Juice agreed and before long, we were laying across the chairs, staring at the ceiling fan above.

"I didn't think you were a stoner, Juicey," I said.

Juice took a toke and passed the joint to me.

"I didn't know you smoked pot," he said.

I held the smoke in for a minute before slowly letting out and passing it back.

"Not all the time," I replied, my voice choked, "I used to be a bad kid, I guess."

Juice just laughed and finished off the joint.

Truth was, I really did used to smoke pot. Not a lot, but on occasion. When Zero and I were teenagers we smoked a lot, but I had long since abandoned it. Really wasn't for me, and I had dropped it along with smoking, but my brothers now are awful influences. As soon as I realized I was stoned, I remembered why I had quit. The fucking munchies. However, aside from the munchies, I was pretty chill. It was Juice that was little bit, shall we say, messy. Messy, and of course, hilarious. He had me in tears twice.
That evening, I was half asleep on the couch. Juice had tweaked out a little and made a fort out of cushions, convinced that aliens were after him. He might have gotten into Tig's stash.

"Do you even know what's in that shit?" I asked.

Juice was holding the coffee table for dear life.

"Is…is the floor still underneath me, Callie?" he asked.

I slowly looked over to him to see his legs sprawled out behind him and his knuckles white as he gripped the edges of the table. I burst out laughing.

"You are so stoned, Juice. Put Tig's shit up before you smoke enough that he'll notice," I said.

"Callie, I'm serious!" he cried out.

I reached over my head and picked up a flashlight that had been laying around. I then dropped it on the hardwood floor and screamed. Juice screamed bloody murder and dropped to the ground. I was dying of laughter.

"You are so stoned!" I breathed out, my laugh turning into full on chain-smoker laugh.

I was sure I wasn't stoned anymore. It had been hours, and I had only had the couple of tokes of Blueberry, and had since had water and almost four fudge pops that someone had left in the freezer. I was full and tired, and had called Tig to tell him where we were and that I might need some help with Juice.

"Callie, that was mean," Juice whined.

"Aw, Juice," I cooed, "I'm just fucking with you."

Juice sat up and looked around, making sure he wasn't going to fall to his death.

"I love you, brother," I said.

Juice let out a shaky breath.

"I love you, too. Can you help me up?"

I stood up from the couch and held a hand out. Juice stood on unsteady feet and smiled a crooked smile.

"I think I should stick to Blueberry," he said.

I laughed and patted his arm.

"Let's clean up," I said.

Juice nodded in agreement and slowly turned when we heard the roaring of motorcycles coming up the driveway. Juice's back went as straight as an arrow and his eyes were at their widest. He turned and stared at the door in fear.

"The jig is up!" he exclaimed, and dove into his pillow fort.

I sighed and shook my head. He wasn't totally out of the woods yet.

I went to sit back on the couch. The front door opened and Tig and Chibs walked in and looked around.

"Goddamn! It smells like Woodstock in here!" Tig exclaimed.

Chibs walked in and observed the fort. He looked up at me, put his hands on his hips, and a smirk slowly played upon his lips.

"I thought I told you two to behave?" he asked in a soft, tired, but still authoritative voice.

I smiled.

"What? It's just me and my ganja," I said.

Chibs smiled and walked over to me. He leaned down and pecked my lips before sitting beside me.

"I didn't know you smoked pot, Callie girl," he said, reaching for the half of a blueberry joint on the table.

"We were bored. Shouldn't have done it. I ate like, a million fudge pops," I replied.

Chibs laughed.

"You should have been here earlier. Juice somehow fell in the toilet," I replied.

Chibs lit the joint and took a hit.

"Sounds like you guys had a very eventful afternoon," he said, "Jesus, that shit's nasty!"

I smiled. Tig went to the kitchen and brought back a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. The boys passed the glasses around and poured themselves a drink.

"How did it go with SAMDINO?" I asked.

Chibs sighed heavily.

"Trip was fine," he replied.

"Pretty routine," Quinn added.

I nodded.

"One of their guys was out of the hospital. He was at home restin'. The other two won't be out until tomorrow," Chibs said, "They discovered that that Anthony kid. The one we saw on the news? He's settin' these shitstorms in motion. Runnin' the whole operation."

"Found out where he lives, too," Happy said.

I looked from Chibs to Happy and back.

"Where?" I asked.

Chibs took another toke and passed it off to Tig.

"You're not gonna like what you're fixin' to hear, love," he said.

He reached down and downed his shot. I watched him worriedly.

"What?" I asked.

Chibs looked down in thought for a moment.

"Business is bein' ran out of Huntington Beach," he said.

I gritted my teeth.

"Shit!" I hissed.

"You don't think these assholes could be in bed with The VII, do you, Callie?" Tig asked.

I shook my head.

"Doubt it. It's like RJ said. Shane was all about privacy. They're most likely underground if this shit is crawling on their turf," I replied.

Tig nodded. Chibs looked around the room.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"Called him," Tig replied, "He's going to come pick up dumbass and take him home. Come back in the morning to pick up the bike."

Chibs nodded.

"'Kay. Let's all of us go home. Get some sleep. Be at chapel at 10:00 tomorrow mornin'," he said.

Tig nodded.

"You got it, brother," he said.

Outside, we heard the sound of another bike. Montez looked out the window.

"RJ," he said.

Chibs nodded.

"We're gonna end this shit before someone else gets hurt," he said.

We all agreed, and the guys finished off the drinks before Quinn helped Juice out of the floor. Chibs turned to me and stroked my cheek.

"Ready to go home, sweetheart?" he asked.

I smiled and nodded.

"You good to ride, or do you wanna ride with me?" he asked.

I smiled and leaned over to him.

"Well, as much as I want to ride with you," I said, causing him to smile, "I gotta get my bike home. I'm good to ride."

Chibs coaxed my face closer and softly kissed me.

"Let's go home, Callie girl," he said.

I agreed, and took his hand, getting up and following him out the door.