The sun was warm on my face as Nana and I strolled through the bustling market in Locus, just like we used to when I first moved back. The familiar scent of fresh produce and homemade bread filled the air, bringing back memories of simpler times. Vendors called out their specials, and families moved leisurely between stalls, enjoying the beautiful day.

"I'm so happy for you, sweetheart," Nana said softly, her eyes twinkling as she glanced over at me. She held a small bundle of fresh herbs in her hand, her warm smile making my heart swell.

"Things have been really good, Nana," I replied with a smile, but there was a slight hesitation in my voice. I hadn't heard from Everest all morning, and that lingering feeling from last night was still gnawing at me. I pushed it aside, focusing on the moment.

As we continued walking, I reached for a bundle of fresh flowers, but just as I did, I bumped into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I said quickly, bending down to pick up the small bundle that had fallen. My hand froze midair when I noticed something else on the ground—a small, worn piece of fabric with a Sons of Silence patch.

My breath caught.

I glanced up quickly, my eyes darting around the crowd, but the figure was already walking away, hood pulled up, blending into the sea of people.

"Everything alright, honey?" Nana asked, noticing my sudden stillness.

"Yeah..." I said slowly, tucking the patch into my pocket and forcing a smile. "Just thought I dropped something."

I didn't want to worry her, so I brushed it off, continuing to enjoy the rest of the morning. We finished shopping and grabbed a coffee from our favorite café before I dropped Nana back home. She gave me a long hug, whispering how proud she was of me as I helped her inside.

But my mind was already somewhere else.

Everest.

I still hadn't heard anything from him. Not a text. Not a call.

That uneasy feeling from the night before was getting stronger by the minute, and I couldn't shake the memory of that patch. I needed answers.

Without thinking twice, I headed straight toward the club.

When I pulled into the lot, the familiar rumble of motorcycles and distant laughter filled the air. Tequila and Bonnie were outside by the bar, cleaning up after what looked like a busy night.

"Hey, girl!" Bonnie called out with a grin, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Hey," I said, managing a smile as I walked over.

Tequila gave me a knowing look. "Looking for your man?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I nodded, glancing around. "You've seen him?"

Tequila shook her head. "Not since last night."

My stomach dropped. I tried to hide my concern, but I could tell by the way Bonnie's smile faded that she picked up on it.

"I'm sure he's fine," she said gently, but I barely heard her because that's when I saw Austin heading toward his bike.

"Austin!" I called out, making him stop mid-step.

He turned, and for a split second, I saw something flash across his face. Guilt? Anxiety?

"Avery..." His voice was hesitant as he walked toward me, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he answered too quickly, avoiding my gaze.

But I knew him well enough to see through it.

"Where's Everest?" I asked, my tone firmer now.

Austin glanced around, almost like he was making sure no one was listening. His jaw clenched, and I could see the tension radiating off of him.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him."

Austin's words came out too fast, and I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. But I knew better. Austin was a terrible liar.

"He left last night with Ghost," he added, shifting uncomfortably as he fully sat on his bike, looking like he was ready to make a quick escape.

"Oh..." I tried to keep my expression neutral, but my stomach clenched. "Well, is Brooke down at the house? I guess I'll go see her before I leave."

Austin shook his head, a little too quickly. "Nah. She's up in Saint Augustine. Something about that new job she's taking. They're opening a place down here in Locus, and they want her to run it."

I gave him a small, agreeing smile, though my mind was already racing. "That's great," I murmured, backing away from his bike.

"Yeah... yeah, it is."

I gave him a small wave as he started his bike, the rumble filling the air as he pulled out of the lot, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers.

I lingered for a few more minutes, talking with Bonnie and Tequila, but my mind was elsewhere. I went through the motions of polite conversation, laughing in the right places and nodding along, but I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Everest had promised he'd be home.

Where the hell was he?

After saying goodbye, I finally made my way back to my car and headed home.

⸻

By the time I pulled into the driveway, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the farmhouse. The house was quiet, too quiet. Everest's bike still wasn't there.

I tried to shake off the unease as I stepped inside, but it clung to me like a second skin. The silence felt louder than usual, and the emptiness in the house was suffocating.

Determined to keep myself busy, I went straight to the kitchen. I pulled out a skillet and started making dinner, hoping that keeping my hands moving would distract me from the growing anxiety clawing at my chest.

I cooked enough for both of us—out of habit more than anything—grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and some mashed potatoes. But as the food simmered on the stove, I kept glancing at my phone, checking for any missed calls or messages.

Nothing.

"Come on, Everest..." I whispered under my breath, pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor as I chewed on my bottom lip.

Every few minutes, I checked the time.

6:45. 7:10. 7:45.

My phone stayed stubbornly silent.

I tried to eat, but I barely tasted the food. The knot in my stomach wouldn't let me enjoy it. After pushing the plate away, I stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the empty driveway.

Where the hell are you?

I tapped out a quick text:

"Hey, just checking in. Haven't heard from you. Everything okay?"

I stared at the screen, watching as the message sent and the small "Delivered" notification popped up. But there was no reply.

Pacing again, I ran a hand through my hair, feeling more restless by the minute. My mind wouldn't stop racing, going over every possible scenario.

Maybe it's nothing.

Maybe he just got caught up with club stuff.

Maybe I'm overreacting.

But that nagging feeling in my gut wouldn't go away. Something wasn't right.

I checked my phone again. Still nothing.

By 8:30, I was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV but not really watching. I kept glancing at the door, hoping to hear the familiar sound of his boots on the porch, but the house remained eerily quiet.

My heart pounded in my chest, and my mind screamed that something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.

And I hated it.

I stood in the kitchen, my hands moving on autopilot as I cleaned up the food I had made for Everest. My mind was somewhere else entirely, circling back to him over and over again. I had made him a plate, hoping he'd walk through the door in time to eat. But as I wrapped it up and shoved it into the fridge, a heaviness settled deep in my chest.

Where the hell is he?

My fingers trembled as I rinsed off the dishes, the water running way too hot against my skin. I didn't even feel it. My thoughts were too tangled, too busy conjuring up the worst possibilities. I'd been pacing the house for hours, checking my phone like a damn lunatic.

Nothing.

Not a single call. Not a single text.

I had almost convinced myself to call Ghost... maybe even Austin. They would know something. But before I could work up the nerve—

The front door creaked open.

I froze.

The plate I was holding slipped from my soapy fingers, crashing into the sink with a loud clatter. My heart slammed into my ribcage, and before I could even think, I was moving.

I darted out of the kitchen, my pulse pounding in my ears.

"Everest?" I barely recognized my own voice. It was soft, hesitant—like I was afraid of what I might find.

When my eyes met his, the air left my lungs.

Blood.

Everest stood in the doorway, looking like he had been through hell. His lip was busted, a thin trickle of blood still fresh at the corner of his mouth. His shirt was soaked in crimson, the fabric stiff and crusted in places, and his knuckles were raw and bruised. One of his eyes was already starting to swell, a deep shade of purple blooming beneath it.

My breath hitched, and a sharp, painful twist coiled in my stomach.

"W-what..." I couldn't even get the words out. I just stood there, frozen, my mind trying to catch up with what I was seeing.

But Everest?

He acted like nothing was wrong.

"Why are you still awake?" His voice was rough, tired. As if he hadn't been ignoring me all damn day. As if he wasn't standing there covered in blood.

I blinked, my lips parting, but nothing came out. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might break through my chest.

"Everest..." I finally managed, barely a whisper. I took a hesitant step forward, my eyes scanning his body, searching for any sign of injury. Was all that blood his?

"What the fuck happened?" My voice cracked, and I hated how small I sounded.

"I'm fine, baby." His words were soft, but they didn't ease the tightness in my chest. His voice was strained, and the way he avoided my eyes told me everything I needed to know.

Liar.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as I took another step closer. "You're not fine," I whispered, my voice barely holding together. My hands lifted, but I hesitated, terrified that touching him might make it worse. "Where were you?"

I wasn't sure if I wanted the truth.

But I knew whatever he was keeping from me... it was bad.

I stood there, my eyes locked on his, waiting—praying—for an answer. But Everest wouldn't look at me. His jaw clenched, his hand running through his disheveled hair as he took a step inside and kicked the door shut behind him. The sound echoed through the quiet house, making my stomach twist even tighter.

"Everest." My voice was sharper now, the panic giving way to something else. Anger. "Where. Were. You?"

"I told you, I'm fine." His tone was low, but there was an edge to it.

I took another step toward him, my eyes narrowing. "That's not what I asked."

His shoulders tensed, and I saw it—the way his body went rigid, like he was bracing for this conversation. But I wasn't about to let him shut me out. Not after being gone all damn day. Not after showing up like this.

"Don't do this," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't do what?" My voice rose, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "Ask where the hell my boyfriend's been all day while I've been sitting here worried sick? Don't ask why you're standing in our doorway covered in blood?" I threw my arms up, my chest tightening with every word. "I've been pacing this house for hours, Everest. Hours. I've been calling. I've been waiting—nothing. And now you just walk in here like—like everything's okay?"

"Because it is okay." His voice was harder this time, but it didn't make me back down.

"Bullshit." The word came out before I could stop it, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

Everest's jaw clenched even tighter. "I had to take care of a few things."

"What's taken care of?" I demanded, my heart pounding in my ears. "Because from where I'm standing, nothing looks taken care of. You look like you just went ten rounds with someone who wasn't trying to walk away."

"I said it's done!" His voice echoed through the room, and for a second, the weight of it hung between us.

But I didn't flinch.

"Don't do that," I whispered, my voice quieter now but filled with just as much fire. "Don't raise your voice at me when I'm the one who's been sitting here worrying about whether or not you were even going to come home tonight."

His eyes finally met mine, and I saw it—the pain. The exhaustion. But also, the walls. The ones he was trying so damn hard to put up between us.

"Baby..." His voice softened, and for a second, I almost caved.

Almost.

"Don't," I murmured, shaking my head as I took another step toward him. "You don't get to walk in here, bleeding and bruised, and act like I don't deserve to know what the hell happened. I'm not some clueless girl, Everest. I know what 'club business' means. I know what 'taken care of' means."

His eyes darkened, and I could see the conflict warring inside him.

"So tell me," I whispered, my voice barely holding together. "Tell me what the fuck happened."

Silence.

His jaw flexed again, and I saw it—the moment he shut down.

"It doesn't matter." His words were cold, distant.

"It matters to me!" I exploded, my voice cracking as the weight of everything I had been holding in came crashing down. "God, Everest, it always matters to me. Don't you get that? I can't just pretend like I don't care that you're out there, risking everything—risking us—every time you walk out that door."

"I'm not risking us," he shot back, his eyes narrowing, but I wasn't letting him deflect this time.

"Aren't you?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Because this... this isn't what we talked about. You said—" My throat tightened, and I had to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall. "You said things would be different. That you didn't want me caught up in that life anymore."

His expression softened for a moment, and I saw the guilt flash in his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly.

"I'm trying to protect you," he murmured, but it sounded like an excuse.

"Protect me?" I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "How am I supposed to feel protected when I don't even know if you're going to come home in one piece? Or if you're going to come home at all?"

Silence filled the space between us again, heavier than before.

"I can't do this, Everest." My voice was barely above a whisper now, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. "I can't sit here and pretend like I'm okay with this. With not knowing. With wondering if the next time you walk out that door is the last."

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something—anything—to make this better.

But he didn't.

Instead, Everest took a step back.

And in that moment, I felt it—like a knife twisting in my chest.

"You don't get to shut me out," I whispered, my voice cracking as I fought to hold back the tears.

"I'm not shutting you out," he said softly, but I could see it in his eyes. He was already pulling away.

"Then prove it," I whispered, my throat tightening. "Tell me the truth."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought maybe—maybe—he would finally let me in.

But all he said was, "Not tonight."

And just like that, the walls went back up.

I stood there, my heart breaking as I watched him turn away...

I don't remember exactly when I finally fell asleep. It was a restless kind of sleep, the kind where your mind never really quiets, but your body just gives out from exhaustion. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Everest, sitting there in the living room, his eyes fixed on the TV but distant—like his mind was somewhere far away. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I didn't have the energy to ask anymore. He was there, but he wasn't. It was the same thing that had been happening for months—he was physically present, but emotionally? I wasn't sure where he was anymore.

The hours dragged on, and eventually, the house fell silent. I don't know when it happened, but somewhere between midnight and the early hours of the morning, I drifted into an uneasy sleep, my thoughts still tangled around everything that had happened.

When I woke up, it wasn't the sound of Everest's voice or him moving around the house that roused me—it was the absence of him. The house felt colder somehow, emptier. I pushed the blankets off, sitting up in bed, my heart racing as I looked around the room.

No Everest.

I jumped out of bed and walked to the living room, hoping he was just asleep on the couch, but the couch was empty. The TV was off, the room quiet. The sinking feeling in my chest deepened.

My phone buzzed from the kitchen counter. My heart skipped a beat as I grabbed it, praying it was a message from him—some explanation, something.

But it wasn't a call. It was a text.

"I'm staying at the clubhouse for the night. I'll be back later."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My hands trembled as I reread the message, the reality sinking in like cold water. He was staying at the clubhouse.

Everest had been right. We could never be normal.