Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Even in that shapeless graduation gown and the square cap that sits slightly askew on her blonde hair, she’s the only thing in focus. The world around her is just a blur of green grass and strangers. She’s glowing. It’s not just the California sun reflecting off her skin; it’s the look on her face—that fierce, sharp intelligence that I fell in love with, now paired with the absolute triumph of finishing what she started.
When the announcer calls her name—"Serenity Walsh"—the sound of it hitting the air makes something in my chest expand so hard it actually hurts. She walks across that stage with her head held high, shaking the dean’s hand with the same confidence she uses to tell Benny he’s over-budget on an engine rebuild. She stops for a second, her eyes scanning the crowd, and when she finds me, she beams. It’s a smile that’s meant only for me, a private signal in a public place.
"That's my bestie!" Alana screams, jumping to her feet and whistling through her teeth. Bones lets out a low, rumbling cheer that probably vibrates in the eardrums of everyone in the first five rows. I just stand up, my hands shoved deep into my pockets so no one sees how much they’re shaking, and I nod. It’s all I can manage. She did it. She’s a UCLA graduate, a certified accountant, and she’s coming home to Vegas with me tonight.
Once the ceremony is over, the celebration moves to a steakhouse downtown later that evening. It’s our usual crowd—Bones, Eden, and Alana. The table is covered in half-empty wine glasses and the remnants of a meal that cost more than my first motorcycle. The air smells like charred ribeye and expensive bourbon, a far cry from the grease and aerosol of the Boneyard, but it feels just as much like home.
Ren is sitting next to me, her hand resting on my thigh under the table. She’s changed into a silk dress the color of a desert sunset, and every time she moves, the three-carat diamond on her finger catches the light. I still remember the way my heart felt like it was going to kick its way out of my ribs when I put that ring on her finger. I haven't spent a single second regretting it.
"I wanted to say something," Ren says, lifting her glass. Her voice is clear, carrying over the low hum of the restaurant. She looks at Bones and Eden, her expression softening. "Moving to Vegas wasn't just about safety. It was about finding a life I didn't know I wanted. Bones, Eden… thank you for trusting me with the Boneyard. Taking the head accountant position isn't just a job for me. It’s officially making our family business a family business."
Bones grunts, a small, rare smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We’re happy to have you. You’re the only one with enough steel in your spine to keep the books straight in that madhouse."
"To the best accountant in Nevada," Eden adds, raising her glass with a warm smile. "And the only woman who can actually manage Diesel Walsh without a tranquilizer gun."
I let out a dry chuckle, squeezing Ren’s hand. "She doesn't need a gun. She just gives me that look and I’m done for."
"It’s true," Alana chimes in, reaching across the table to steal a fry from my plate. "I watched him turn into a puddle because she told him to cool his freakin’ jets last Tuesday. My big, bad biker brother is a total goner."
The table erupts into laughter, the kind of easy, comfortable sound that only comes from years of shared history and earned trust. This is what I never thought I’d have. I spent so many years thinking the MC was the only family I’d ever get, that the garage was the only legacy I’d leave behind. I thought I was a man built for the shadows, for the rough edges of life. But looking around this table, I realize that the shadows only exist because there's so much light.
As the waiter clears the plates and brings out a decadently thick chocolate cake for dessert, the conversation slows down. The high of the graduation ceremony has settled into a quiet, contented glow. Ren leans closer to me, her shoulder pressing against mine. She smells like the jasmine perfume she saves for special occasions and the faint, sweet scent of the vanilla latte she had this afternoon.
"Diesel?" she whispers, her fingers lacing through mine. Her hand is warm, but there’s a slight tremor in it that makes my internal alarms go off. I turn to her, my brow furrowing as I search her face.
"You okay, baby? You're pale." I'm already calculating how fast I can get her out of here and back to the hotel.