Z tenderly took me to bed and curled himself around me all night. Made me breakfast in bed the next day before Chance came home. Basically treated me like expensive glass that might break at any moment.

At first it was sweet.

Until it was annoying.

Then it became alarming. Will that be the new normal for us now? Z thinks I’m a victim and he shouldn’t touch me? That I’m broken? I can’t deal with him seeing me that way.

As I’m close to my Thruway exit, Z calls.

“How far away are you, pretty girl?”

“About a mile from the exit.”

“I’ll meet you there so you can follow me to the house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just look for me to the right.”

“Okay.”

While he said look for him, I should’ve known Z wouldn’t be alone. One of his brothers—Murphy, I think—is with him. They both pull onto the road as I exit the tollbooth.

Keeping an eye on my brother’s truck in my rear view, I guide my car into place behind Z’s and Murphy’s bikes and follow where they lead.

They take us through some winding country roads. Somehow this far downstate, I expected it to be more built up, but there is still some uninterrupted scenery.

Whoops, spoke too soon, he takes a left onto a smaller, newer road. Up and down, we roll over gentle hills until we pass a set of stone pillars. A little further, we come to a gate and small guard building. Z waves something at the box next to the building and the gates swing open. He doesn’t move through immediately though, and I realize he’s speaking to someone inside the building.

Impressive.

Obviously, I knew Z would find someplace safe and secure for us. I didn’t expect this, though. It’s a newer housing development that looks more like a nature park dotted with over-sized houses. Most homes are similar in style. What they lack in originality, they make up for in size. Perfectly manicured yards. Intricate stone driveways.

I bet they’re going to love having a couple of bikers in the neighborhood.

Instead of being happy for me, my brother seems irritated by the surroundings when he unfolds his long legs from his truck.

“Was Chance good for you?”

“Huh?” He stops scowling at the neighborhood and faces me. “Yeah, he conked out almost as soon as we got on the Thruway.”

“Good.”

“Daddy!” Chance knocks on the window and before even saying hello to my brother, Z opens the back door to unbuckle Chance.

“Were you good for Uncle Alex?” Z asks, sweeping Chance into his arms.

“He’s always good,” Alex says.

Z shifts Chance to one arm and holds out his hand to my brother. “Thanks for coming down.”