"Good morning," I say softly as I step out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Everest stands over the stove, shirtless, wearing a pair of sweatpants that hang loosely at his hips, revealing the sharp definition of his chest and the faint line leading downward.

"Mornin'," he mumbles without looking up.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and walk over to the table, taking a seat in front of him. Leaning back, I pull one leg up, resting my arm on it as I gaze out the sliding glass doors. It's around 9 a.m., and the day looks beautiful—warm and bright. Though the nights have started cooling off, the days still cling to the heat.

"So... do you have anything planned for today?" I ask, glancing back at him as he starts plating food.

"Kinda. Got somethin' to show you after we eat."

He carries two plates over, setting them down on the table before taking a seat across from me. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. My eyes follow him as he moves, but he doesn't meet my gaze, instead diving into his food in silence.

"Thank you," I say simply before starting to eat as well.

Between bites, I steal small glances at him. Here, away from everything, he seems like a completely different person—relaxed, at ease. It's as if, for once, there's nothing weighing him down. No burdens. No threats lurking over his shoulder.

We eat in comfortable silence, and when we're both finished, I stand and grab my plate. "You done?" I ask, reaching for his.

Everest clears his throat, setting his fork down before handing me the dish. "Yeah. Gonna take a quick shower, then I'll be out."

I nod, carrying everything to the sink, washing the dishes, and loading the dishwasher. After making myself another cup of coffee, I step outside onto the patio, sinking into a lounge chair and admiring the ocean. The air is warm but comfortable, the sound of the waves steady and soothing.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, allowing the sun to kiss my skin. For a moment, I try to let go of everything—just exist in the peace of it all.

The sound of the sliding door opening pulls me from my thoughts. I turn my head as Everest steps outside, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. He's wearing a black tank top and jeans, water dripping from the ends of his hair onto his chiseled jaw.

"Come on," he says, jerking his head toward the house.

I follow him back inside, then out the front door, where we make our way toward a small shed on the side of the house.

"Figured I'd take this time to actually teach you how to ride it," Everest says, pulling open the shed doors to reveal a yellow motorcycle—the one he built for me all those years ago.

My lips part slightly as I glance up at him. He walks over to the bike and starts rolling it out. Stepping aside, I watch as he pushes it down the driveway toward the street, following behind him.

"How did you even get it here?" I ask.

Everest props the bike on its kickstand and shrugs. "After that whole episode with your little boyfriend, I had one of the brothers bring it over."

I try not to think too much into that—don't want this to turn into an argument. He's calm, mellow even, but I can't help but wonder... what are we really doing here?

He said we came to get away, that things at the club were complicated right now, but something about his mood, his demeanor, is different. He seems almost... awkward. As if he doesn't know how to act around me. He isn't cocky. He isn't trying to get under my skin.

"Oh. Okay," I say, running a hand over the bike's handlebar.

"Get on. It won't fall," Everest assures me, holding it steady as I swing a leg over.

Once I'm settled, he shoves a helmet onto my head before hopping on behind me, his chest pressing flush against my back as his arms settle over mine.

The better part of the morning is spent with Everest teaching me how to ride. And honestly? It feels like we're sixteen and nineteen again—like none of the shit with my parents ever happened. Like we never got cut short.

As the lesson wraps up, I look up at him, nerves creeping in. "I don't know if I can do it without you."

Everest folds his arms over his chest, smirking. "You were practically already riding on your own. I was just dead weight. You'll be fine."

I still don't feel entirely convinced. My eyes flicker between him and the bike, nerves rolling through me.

"Slowly release the brake and turn the clutch," he instructs.

I do as he says, easing forward. When I finally lift my feet, I feel steady, the rush of excitement overtaking my hesitation. A wide grin spreads across my face.

"I'm doing it! Everest, I'm doing it!" I shout over my shoulder.

Standing in the middle of the road, he claps, smiling. "Hell yeah, you are!"

Adrenaline courses through me. This moment—it's pure happiness. No stress. No baggage. Just freedom.

"Alright, Avery! Start to slow down!" Everest calls out as I near the end of the road.

For a second, I panic. I completely blank on which side the brake is on and accidentally rev the clutch instead. The bike jerks forward.

My excitement vanishes, replaced with instant dread.

"BRAKE, AVERY!" Everest yells.

I fumble, finally grabbing it, but the abrupt stop throws me off balance. The bike tips, and before I can react, I'm on the ground.

A yelp escapes my lips as I hit the sand, the bike pinning my leg down. Luckily, I'd already left the road before I wiped out.

For a second, I just lay there, stunned. Then Everest rushes over, lifting the bike off me and offering his hand.

"You good?!" Concern is written all over his face.

I take his hand, standing up and brushing the sand off. My leg throbs, and I know I'll be sporting a bruise later, but honestly? I don't even care.

I look up at him, grinning, and without thinking, throw my arms around his neck.

"I did it! I did it!" I sing, unable to contain my excitement. Doing a little victory dance.

Everest chuckles, shaking his head as he rolls the bike back toward the cottage. I trail behind him, still buzzing with adrenaline.

Once inside, the cool air washes over me as I collapse onto the couch. Everest leans against the doorway, arms crossed, shaking his head.

"You nearly gave me a damn heart attack." He states.

"At this point, I feel like I'm always giving you a heart attack—since I'm such a priority," I joke, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I clutch my stomach as it rumbles, realizing it must be around two o'clock by now.

"So, where exactly are we? Location-wise?" I ask, glancing over at him.

Everest lets out a sigh as he sinks into the couch beside me. "Clearwater," he replies simply.

"Oh, well, there should be a place with some little shops and somewhere we can grab lunch, right?" I suggest.

He nods in agreement. "Yeah, definitely."

"I gotta jump in the shower before we go anywhere again—I'm drenched, and so are you," he says, leaning forward and pulling off his sweat-soaked white beater.

I know he's right, and as if in sync, we both move to stand up at the same time. There's an awkward pause, and I hesitate before stepping back. "Oh, um... you go first," I say, lowering myself back onto the couch.

"No, you go," he counters immediately. "You take longer to get ready than I do, and at least this way, I won't have to wait for you."

I let out a dramatic scoff and playfully toss a pillow at him, rolling my eyes but unable to hide the smirk tugging at my lips.

"Whatever," I mutter, turning on my heel and heading into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

———————————

And that's exactly what we did. After showering and getting ready, we headed into a small village lined with shops on either side of the water—a slightly more populated area where people came to visit the beach and the pier.

We spent most of the evening walking around, eventually finding a spot where we could eat right by the water. One thing I had missed about Florida was fried alligator bites. It was the one dish I refused to eat anywhere else, especially in New York—Florida was the only place I trusted to do it right.

"I know you don't really want to talk about why we're here, Everest, but can you at least let me know if everything is okay?" I asked, watching as he leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment.

"Everything's fine. Everyone's fine—for now. Ghost actually suggested I take you out for a bit while he meets with some people," he said before taking a swig of his beer.

"What kind of people?" I pressed, sensing this was finally my chance to get some real answers.

"The mob."

I blinked, completely thrown. The Sons of Silence and the Devil's Bloods—sure, they were bikers, but bikers were nothing compared to the mafia.

"I'm just so confused, Everest. And you can't blame me. You want me to stay safe, but you keep me completely in the dark. How am I supposed to know what's happening if you won't tell me?" I pleaded, stacking our plates and pushing them toward the edge of the table.

"Your husband owes people money—people who aren't exactly known for their patience. And we think he's planning to hand you over to the mafia or kill you to settle his debt. Either way, it doesn't exactly work out in your favor. Or mine."

Something about the way he said mine sent an unfamiliar feeling coursing through me.

As hard as he tried to act like he didn't care, he did. Because if he didn't, why would any of this matter to him? Why would he give a damn what Logan did to me or what the mafia wanted? It wasn't in his nature to care—he had done unspeakable things to others and laughed about it. But when it came to me, it was different.

"Thank you," I said simply, letting the conversation end there. I had my answers for now, and I didn't want to push him any further, not when we were actually having a good day.

We wandered around for another hour or two before stopping at a small dive bar—just like the ones back home. The place reeked of smoke, a dartboard hung in the corner, and a single pool table sat in the middle of the room.

As soon as we walked in, heads turned. Everest's leather jacket made it clear exactly who he was and what he was a part of. It wasn't packed, just a few locals, but the atmosphere was thick with curiosity. We took a seat at the bar, ordered a couple of drinks, and settled in.

"Did you want to play a round of pool?" I asked, knowing full well it would pique his interest.

"Avery, you don't know how to play pool," he stated flatly.

I scoffed, grabbing my beer off the bar and flashing him a smirk before strutting over to the table.

I knew exactly what I was doing. The way I walked, the sway of my hips, the way I bent down to slide the quarters into the table and rack the balls—it was intentional.

Everest followed, grabbing two pool sticks and handing me one.

"You break," he said.

I chalked the end of my cue, leaning down to line up my shot. Just before I struck the cue ball, I glanced up at him, giving him those eyes—the look I knew he could never resist.

His expression shifted, playful yet intrigued. He was enjoying the little show I was putting on, and I sank a solid on my first shot.

I was already drunk—or at least well on my way. We played two more rounds, and I lost every single one. But somehow, nothing could sour my mood. Everest had been right—I couldn't play pool for shit. But I sure as hell had fun trying.

"Are you going to be okay to drive?" I asked as he started up the bike, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"That's probably the dumbest question you've asked me all day," he muttered before revving the engine and taking off toward the cottage.

When we got back, I reeked of cigarettes and liquor—and I knew he did too. He shut the door behind us, and I leaned against the counter. An awkward silence settled between us as we just stared at each other, neither knowing what to say.

"I had a really good day," I finally admitted, thinking back over everything. It really had been a good day.

"Definitely better than the ones we've been having," he agreed, chuckling.

I wished we could stay in this moment, in this place, in this life—forever. I wished we could just run away.

The silence returned, and I scratched my head, pushing off the counter. "I'm gonna have to shower again—I reek of cigarettes," I said, heading toward the bedroom.

Everest sighed, shrugging off his jacket and boots before collapsing onto the couch.

I lingered in the doorway, watching him. And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but staring at him like this—I couldn't help it. Every time I looked at this man, I became convinced that God had chiseled him out perfectly and placed him on this earth just to test my self-control.

"Goodnight," he said, turning on the TV.

"Night..." I mumbled, disappearing into the bedroom.

I was hammered. The moment I looked in the mirror, I felt it. I stripped down and stepped into the shower, hoping to sober up a little before bed. Sometimes it worked. Other times, I still ended up at the toilet.

Tonight, it was the toilet.

By the time I got out, I was still wobbling, nearly slipping as I stepped onto the tile. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Everest still on the couch, feet propped up, beer in hand, watching TV.

A bad idea formed. Or maybe it was a good idea. Either way, I went with it.

I wrapped a towel around myself, not bothering to change, and walked out of the bedroom, heading straight to the fridge. Bending down just so, I grabbed a bottle of water, fully aware of the heat of his gaze burning into me.

"You okay?" he asked from the living room.

"Mhm," I murmured, taking a sip before flopping onto the loveseat.

I could still feel his eyes on me. Smirking, I shifted slightly, letting the towel ride up just enough to tease.

"You're drunk," he stated.

"No, I'm not," I tried, far from convincing. I throw my head back laughing at a scene from Family Guy that he was watching on the TV.

He huffed a laugh. "You only laugh like that when you're drunk."

Rolling my eyes, I watched as he set his beer down and stood, holding both hands out. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

I groaned but let him pull me up. As we walked toward the bedroom, I nearly tripped, and he caught me instantly, hands gripping my waist to steady me. I looked up at him, laughing breathlessly.

And then, just to mess with him, I let the towel drop.

His sharp inhale was all I needed to hear. He didn't move, just stood there watching me like a predator eyeing its prey.

"What?" I taunted. "It's not like you haven't seen it before."

Within seconds, he had a hand around my throat and the other gripping my ass, pulling me into him. His lips hovered inches from mine, eyes burning into me.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Avery King," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.

"That's the point," I whispered back, holding his gaze.

For a moment, time slowed. The air between us was charged, crackling with tension—until, just like that, it was over.

My stomach twisted. "Oh, god."

Without another word, I bolted to the bathroom, dropping to my knees and emptying my stomach into the toilet.

I didn't know how long I was there, but Everest stayed with me, rubbing my back, placing a cool washcloth on my forehead.

At some point, he carried me to bed. He must've dressed me, but I couldn't remember when.

As he turned to leave, I weakly grabbed his arm. "Don't leave me," I croaked.

"Okay," he murmured, not arguing.

He shut off the light, crawled into bed beside me, and pulled me into his arms.

And just like that, I was out like a light.