ANMELDEN~ Mara ~ I felt lighter when I got back. Like the feeling of dread sitting on my shoulder had finally lessened. Lily was upstairs, humming again, dragging something across the floor that sounded suspiciously like furniture being rearranged without permission. I stood in the kitchen for a second longer than necessary, staring at the counter like it might suddenly give me answers about what the judge and jury's final verdict would be and whether I was about to lose everything I had rebuilt. I wasn’t good at waiting. Waiting felt like me standing still while someone else decided my life. And I hated that. I opened the fridge, closed it, and opened it again like something new might magically appear the second time. Nothing changed. Still groceries. Still normal. Still, a life that didn’t look like it was hanging in the balance, even though it was. Upstairs, Lily shouted, “Mom, if I move my bed, does it make my room bigger or just different?” “Differ
~ Cole ~ The garage smelled like gasoline, metal, and poor life choices. Home. Engines lined the concrete floor. Chrome reflecting the overhead lights. Music low. Guys talking in small clusters. The usual chaos of the clubhouse garage on a Thursday night. Except tonight everyone went quiet when I walked in. Which is never a good sign. Elijah leaned against the tool bench with a beer in his hand. Watching me like a man who already knew the joke before it landed. “You’re late,” he said. “I had court.” “Yeah.” “You already know.” “I know everything.” “That’s creepy,” I say I grabbed a bottle from the cooler. The cold glass felt good in my hand. “Silas made noise again,” Elijah added casually. Of course he did. “Where.” “South warehouse.” “Damage?” “Minor.” “That’s his style.” Across the room, a few of the older members watched me carefully. That kind of attention meant a conversation was coming. I sighed. “Let me guess,” I mu
~ Mara ~ The courthouse steps felt different on the way down. Like the storm had moved slightly further away. Lily skipped two steps ahead of us, humming some chaotic cartoon theme song while swinging her little yellow purse. Cole walked beside me with that calm expression he wore whenever he’d just done something smart and didn’t want credit for it. Which annoyed me. Because he absolutely deserved credit. “You lied,” I said. “I just clarified.” He said “You still lied.” “You told the judge you don’t live with us.” “I don’t officially.” “You have a toothbrush in my bathroom.” “Emergency toothbrush.” “You have three shirts in my closet.” “Temporary shirts.” “You fixed the door hinge last week.” “That’s just helping around” I stopped walking. Cole kept going two steps before realising. He turned back. “What?” “You stepped back for me.” “I stepped sideways.” “For me.” “For Lily.” I crossed my arms. “Still counts.” His jaw shifted
~ Mara ~ Before we knew it a week had passed and it was time for court. The courthouse parking lot smelled like hot asphalt it was as if I could taste people's sorrows in the air. I sat in the car for a full minute after turning the engine off. Just breathing. Just staring at the beige building in front of me like it personally offended me. Courthouses have that vibe. Cold. Judgy. Like the walls are whispering let’s see who ruins your life today. Cole knocked on the passenger window. I jumped. He opened the door and leaned down. “You planning to move in here or…?” “I was thinking about it,” I muttered. “Nice view of despair.” “Exactly.” He crouched slightly so we were eye level. “You ready?” “No.” “Good.” “That’s not comforting.” “Nobody’s ready for court.” “Fantastic.” He offered his hand. I stared at it. Then took it. Because apparently that’s who I am now. The woman who holds a biker president’s hand before custody hearings.
~ Cole ~ Pain woke me up. Just a slow, dull ache spreading across my ribs like my body was reminding me I wasn’t twenty anymore. I sat at the kitchen table while Mara flipped eggs on the stove. Lily sat beside me stacking blueberries into a tower. Very serious work. “You’re moving like an old man,” Mara said without looking at me. “Rude, I'm still a bit young.” “That’s what old men say.” Lily snorted. “Mom roasted you.” “I noticed.” I shifted in the chair. Bad idea. My ribs protested immediately. Mara noticed the tiny flinch. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hurt worse than you said.” “I’m sore.” “That’s not the same thing.” “I’m at least functioning.” “That’s not the same thing either.” Lily proudly held up a blueberry tower. “Look.” “Impressive architecture,” I said. “Thank you.” Then she casually added, “If Uncle Cole dies I get his motorcycle.” Mara froze. “Lily.” “What?” “We don’t talk like that.” “I’m planning ahead,” Lil
~ Lily ~ Mom thinks I don’t notice things. But I do. Adults act like kids live in some cartoon world where nothing serious happens. That’s not true. We just hear things differently. And sometimes we pretend not to hear them at all. This morning I woke up before everyone else. Which never happens. Usually, Uncle Cole wakes up first because he makes coffee that smells like burnt dirt. But today the house was quiet. Really quiet. I climbed out of bed and walked down the hallway. Mom’s bedroom door was open. She wasn’t inside. The couch in the living room had a blanket lump on it. Uncle Cole. Still asleep. His arm hung off the side like he had fallen asleep mid-thought. I walked closer. His eyebrow had a bandage. The one I put there. It looked slightly crooked now. I climbed onto the couch and sat next to him. He didn’t wake up. I poked his shoulder. Nothing. “Wow,” I whispered. “You’re really out.” His breathing stayed slow. H
Cole They were waiting for me. Not subtle about it. Three bikes out front that weren’t scheduled. Two trucks I didn’t recognise. The clubhouse door opened like an invitation or a warning. Inside, the air felt tight. Jax leaned against the bar, arms crossed. Rhea sat at the table near th
Cole I didn’t sleep much that night Not really. Every sound in that house wired straight into my spine. Floorboards shifting. Her breathing down the hall. The kid turning over in bed. I lay there staring at the ceiling knowing this was a line I couldn’t uncross. Sleeping on her cou
Mara The first call from his lawyer comes at 9:03 a.m. I answer before it rings twice. “Ms Collins, we’d like to discuss your… living situation.” Living situation. That’s what they’re calling it. Not love. Not support. Not safety. I grip the edge of the table. “My daughter liv
Cole The door clicks shut behind me. That sound feels louder than Evan’s engine did. Mara stands with her back to it like she’s holding the whole house upright. Her wrist is still red where he grabbed her. I stare at it too long. “He touched you hard,” I say. “I’ve had worse.” Tha







