Page 48 of Rags's Awakening
Something in the way he said it made her pulse jump a half beat of warmth and a half beat of something she couldn’t name.
She brushed it off and smiled back. “Goodnight, Devin.”
“Goodnight, Casey.”
He waited until she slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine before stepping back, hands still tucked in his coat pockets, watching as she backed out. She gave him a quick wave as she backed out, and he stood there in the neon glow, face unreadable, until she turned out of the lot.
Casey headed toward home, a heaviness pressing inside her chest. She gripped the steering wheel tighter than she meant to. Devin’s voice echoed in her head. “Lock your doors, all right?” And she couldn’t tell if it had been out of concern or something else. Then Curtis’s words threaded through: “Some people are drawn to what’s dark and striking. They can’t help themselves.”
Maybe she was just tired. Maybe everything felt off because she’d seen Rags again.
Her stomach clenched as she thought of him at the back booth with his brothers, the way he’d looked at her and then later ignored her. That cool chin lift. The tense shoulders.Aw hell. I’m overthinking everything.
At a red light, she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her eyes looked tired, shadowed.I need a good’s night sleep, that’s all.
When she pulled onto her driveway, she sat there a moment with the engine running, staring at the porch light flickering against her front steps.Stop thinking about Rags, right now! Those outlaws are all players. You were doing just fine all on your own.
When she finally drive into the garage and turned off the ignition, the silence felt heavier than before. She went inside and locked the door just like Devin said.
She stood there for a heartbeat, listening to the house breathe around her, every creak and tick suddenly louder.
Then she exhaled, forced herself to move, and told herself she wasn’t scared… just tired.
She sank onto the couch, turned on the TV, and flipped through the channels, letting the noise fill the room.
Chapter Eleven
The afternoon sundrenched the ranch in soft, honeyed light. Festival tents dotted the open pasture, a bright patchwork of pumpkin, sienna, and forest-green awnings rippling in the warm afternoon breeze. Hand-painted wooden signs gleamed in metallic gold and silver, catching the light as people drifted past. T-shirts swayed on display racks, knitted scarves fluttered like ribbons, and silver rings shaped like skulls and serpents glinted in the sun. Jars of mountain honey glowed amber beside handmade soaps and candles arranged on weathered tables. Farther down, Black Hollow Moon’s booth stood draped in soft black fabric, prisms hanging from its frame, scattering tiny sparks of rainbows across jars of herbs and stacked tarot decks.
Smoke rolled steadily from the barbecue pit near the old split-rail fence, drifting into the sweetness of funnel cakes and the buttery scent of popcorn. Kids darted through the crowd with sticky fingers and cotton-candy smiles, their laughter cutting through the growl of a revving Harley. Insurgent members stood sentry near the gates, at the beer tents, and around the custom motorcycle display where rows of polished Harleys gleamed like gemstones under the bright sky.
The crowd was a mix: families in flannel and denim, couples sharing trays of nachos, and women in tight jeans and low-cut tops drifting close to the custom bikes, hoping to catch the eye of an outlaw leaning against chrome. From the stage near the concessions, a local band ripped into a gritty cover of “Crazy Train,” the guitars loud enough to rattle the drink cups. Thebeat pulsed through the grounds, rolling across the ranch and echoing against the high mountain peaks.
Casey and Zoe wove through the crowd with Ryan, Zoe’s date from Blue’s Belly, trailing a few steps behind, his pressed khakis and button-down making him look like he’d wandered into the wrong festival. Even though the Fall Festival welcomed everyone, the thrum of leather and chrome made it obvious whose world they were in.
“There are so many booths here, I don’t know where to start,” Zoe said, practically bouncing beside Casey.
“I want to check out the soaps and candles,” Casey said, letting the warm scent of vanilla and sandalwood drift over her.
Zoe glanced back at Ryan. “I hope he’s okay. I told him this probably wasn’t his scene, but he insisted.”
“How’s it going with him?” Casey asked. “I’ve been too slammed to catch up.”
“It’s going… fine.” Zoe sighed. “He takes me out every night. Nice restaurants, and he pays for everything.”
“It sounds like you’re saving some money.” Casey chuckled. “Do you actually like him?” she said.
“I mean… kind of? He’s sweet. It’s nice not having to split the bill all the time.”
“And…?”
“He’s fine, but a bit… odd.”
“What do you mean?”
Zoe walked closer to her. “He’s weird about the sex stuff, you know?” she whispered.
“Weird how?”
