“I’ve been thinking about this since you took off like a bat outta hell. I don’t have a concrete answer for you, but I’d be lying if I said I never wondered if someone out there had gotten under his skin. Don’t take my word on this, because Lord knows I’m just a rambling old man. But if your mother, or any woman, had gotten to him in those messed-up years, he’d’ve stayed far away once he realized he was hooked. It would’ve just about killed him knowing he’d fathered a son and wasn’t strong enough to raise him. But knowing Axel, dying a slow death of guilt was better than screwing up a kid’s life.”

Diesel didn’t know what to think about that, but as Tracey had said, that summer storm had already hit.

“What’s your plan, son? Are you comin’ home, or sticking around there for a while?”

Tracey walked out on the porch, gorgeous in jeans, a wine-colored sweater, and the cowgirl boots he’d given her. She smiled and waved, stirring all the emotions that had swamped him last night when they’d made love and again this morning when the sun had crept in through his bedroom curtains over her peaceful face as she’d lain asleep in his arms. She’d truly become his home, his grounding force, his light at the end of what had been a very dark tunnel. When she’d spoken with her mother last night, Tracey had put him on the phone because her mother had said she’d needed to hear that he was okay with her own ears. For the first time in his life, he wondered if a person could have more than one place where they felt like they belonged, and man, that was a hell of a good thing to wonder about.

“We’ll be back Tuesday afternoon.” Diesel wanted to pack a few of his mother’s things to bring back to Maryland. “I texted Bullet, and he said the bar’s covered.”

“How about you swing by my house around six?”

“I can do that.” He winked at Tracey, closing the distance between them.

“A’right. You need anything?”

“No, sir.” He pulled Tracey in close. He had everything he needed right there in his arms and everything he never knew he wanted at his fingertips.

“You give my love to your brave little lady and my pain-in-the-ass brother.”

“Will do. Thanks, Biggs. See you in a couple of days.” He pocketed his phone and pressed his lips to Tracey’s.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine. Good, actually. Tiny invited us to a barbecue. Do you want to meet the Whisk—” Reality hit like a gust of wind, lifting him higher. “You want to meet my family, baby?”