Tor POV

I can hear her crying before I even step through the door. And when I do, she bolts to me and I catch her as she throws herself into my arms. Her face is red, stained with tears, her green eyes bloodshot.

"Uncle Tor..." she gasps for breath between each word, tearing my heart out.

I wipe her cheeks with my thumb.

"What's wrong, Angelcake?"

"My bunny! I looked everywhere and he's gone. I think he's on that fucking tour bus!"

Ah. The coveted stuffed bunny I gave her for her last birthday. She drags it everywhere with her.

I try not to laugh at her epic use of the word "fucking."

"Whoa. Kyra... that's a very bad word."

Her eyes meet mine defiantly and she says she doesn't care.

I love her fire.

"I wonder where she learned that," Elara says, glaring at me.

Kyra pulls on my hair.

"He's gone, Uncle Tor. That's all that matters."

"He's not gone, Angel. He's just on a journey. But ya know what? There's another bunny out there that needs you. Do you think we should go find him?"

She nods solemnly and sniffles.

"Yes. Right now."

Ash and Elara just shake their heads when Kyra and I come back hours later with a new stuffed bunny... and a real live bunny equipped with a deluxe cage I set up by the window in her bedroom. Kyra is over the moon with the little rabbit we named Snuggles, and I feel like a hero for saving the day and bringing her smile back.

"She's got you wrapped around her little finger, man," Aiden says.

"And you're gonna take care of that rabbit, Tor," Elara warns. "I'm not cleaning that cage every week."

I shrug.

"I don't mind. Pets are good for kids. It teaches them responsibility."

"She's five, Tor."

"So? Age doesn't mean shit."

I wink at Kyra who's cradling her new bunny across the room, an adorable smile on her face, tears long forgotten. It's the best high I've ever felt.

**Tor**

Aiden hands me a cup of black coffee and falls into the chair across from me at his kitchen table, zoning in on me with his dark eyes.

"Sydni thinks you're avoiding her."

My head hurts too much from drinking last night to deal with Aiden's probing into my life today. He's always trying to play shrink, and sometimes he has great advice, but other times his philosophical ramblings grate on my nerves. Now is one of those times.

"That's because I am." I vaguely remElara her following me to the couch last night and me telling her to go fuck herself.

"You think she deserves that? She just wants you to talk to her."

"I have nothing to say to a chick that tells me she wants to get married one second and then admits she's in love with you the next."

He shifts in his chair.

"She's not in love with me, Tor."

Something comes out of me that is half laugh and half snort.

"Oh trust me, she is. And ya know what? I don't give a fuck. I'm done. You can have her."

"I don't want her. I'm married." He fingers his platinum wedding band, turning it in circles. It's a habit he does often, and I'm not sure he even realizes he's doing it.

As I sip my bitter coffee, I decide to let him stay in his delusion. Trying to make him see that Elara is never coming back is a feat I can't tackle. And if Sydni's attempts to do so haven't worked, then nothing will. Not many men can say no to Syd with her legs for days, flaming red hair, double D's, endless talent, and overactive sex drive. We'd all be better off if he would just hook up with her and move on with his life. Then they'd both be happy and I can slam the revolving door shut that she keeps trying to creep through every time she realizes she can't have him.

I'm not going to be anyone's second choice.

But somehow, I always am. I should just get the number two tattooed onto my forehead.

"What are you two doing up so early?"

Kyra interrupts our silent stare-off as she comes into the kitchen still wearing my sweatshirt from last night, no pants, and fuzzy purple socks. As she reaches up into the cabinet, she goes up on her toes to grab one of her favorite mugs that once was mine and the sweatshirt rides up, uncovering half her ass and exposing her white panties with red hearts. I quickly look away and bring my coffee cup to my lips. I didn't just see that. I didn't just see that...

"I have a meeting and Uncle Tor had too much to drink so he slept here. And where are your clothes? I know we can afford pants. You shouldn't be walking around half-naked when we have company."

She runs her hand through her rumpled hair.

"Well, Dad, how was I supposed to know anyone was here? I just woke up. And it's only Tor. Since when is he company? He used to live with us."

She opens the refrigerator and pulls out milk, eggs, cheese and a container of diced veggies, then bends over to take a frying pan out from one of the lower cabinets.

I divert my eyes again as Aiden downs the last of his coffee and stands.

"I'm outta here." He nods to me. "See ya later, man. Are you up for a ride tomorrow? It's supposed to be warm."

I'm always up for a ride.

"Hell yeah."

"Dad, I'm making omelettes. Don't you want one before you go?"

"I don't have time today. I'm sure Tor will eat one, though." He kisses her forehead. "I'll be home around four. We'll have dinner together."

I'm not about to turn away food.

"Actually, I could use something to eat."

Kyra makes wicked omelettes, expertly folded like they give you at a diner. When I try to make one myself, it ends up looking like road kill.

Tor POV

As soon as Aiden's gone, I get up and dump the coffee he made and start a new pot. He always makes this expensive Colombian crap that's way too strong and it makes my heart jump around for the rest of the morning.

"Did you sleep in my shirt?" I ask.

She flips the omelette in the pan and peeks at me from behind the veil of messy golden hair falling over her face.

"Maybe..."

Scowling, I take two plates out of the cabinet and set them next to the stove for her.

"Kenz... I had that on while I was working on a bike yesterday. It's probably got grease on it. And sweat."

Shrugging, she transfers a perfect omelette onto one of the plates.

"You can have that one. And so what? I like it. It's cozy."

"It's dirty."

She laughs.

"Cozy. Dirty. What's the difference? I like how it feels and smells."

Her liking the feel and smell of cozy and dirty while she's wearing nothing but my shirt is not something I should be thinking about. But I do, for a quick second, before I bury it deep in that place in my chest with the other thoughts I don't let myself think about.

Like the thoughts that Elara should have been mine.

And the thoughts that I wish I had a chance to say goodbye to my father.

And the thoughts that I should have been there to help my brother.

And the thought that I should have tried harder with Sydni years ago.

And let's not forget the thought that I should have stayed in the band.

So many regrets.

I wait for her to sit with me at the table before I cut into the omelette, because my mom raised me with manners, and high on that list is you don't start eating until everyone is seated at the table.

"So... you had yourself a little binge last night?" Her eyes dance as she chews and swallows. "What brought that on?"

"Just in a bad mood, I guess. It's not going to be a habit."

"A bad mood named Sydni or a bad mood named Lisa?"

"Eat your breakfast. And both."

"Neither one of them are worth drinking over, Uncle Tor. You want to turn into a drunken mess again?"

I glare at her for bringing that up. A few years ago I had what you might call a drinking problem, but I'll never go down that road again.

"Not gonna happen."

"Good. Because I'm older now and I'm armed with a cell camera and Instagram. I'll document all your embarrassing drunk moments."

"I'm sure you would, brat."

She tilts her head at me, chewing her lip, and I know that look all too well. It means she's thinking about asking or telling me something. I brace myself, because Kyra saves all her deepest and craziest conversations for me.

"Chloe thinks I should give up my V-card to Jason." She finally says.

I choke on my coffee.

"Chloe should keep her mouth shut. And her legs."

Christ. I'm totally not prepared for this conversation, especially hung over. I was expecting her to want tattoos or nose piercings, or maybe purple hair to match her socks. But not sex.

"Why? I'm seventeen. Almost eighteen. Maybe she's right."

I wipe my mouth.

"She's not."

"How old were you?"

"When?"

"Your first time."

"That's different, I'm a guy."

"Well how old was she, then? The girl you did it with?"

Fuck.

"Kenz, you should only be doing that when the time is right. With the right guy."

"I know... but what if the right guy never comes?"

"He will." As I sit here still single at thirty-two. "You're young, just enjoy your life and don't worry about sleeping with guys. Your father will have a shit fit if he hears you talking like this. You want to give him a heart attack?"

She rolls her eyes.

"He still thinks I'm five."

"So do I."

She kicks me under the table.

"No, you don't. You're not nearly as bad as him. And my mom had to be about fourteen, obviously, when she started having sex."

"I think you should talk to your grandmother about this. Or your aunt? Maybe Rayne? Someone of the female persuasion?"

Her nose crinkles.

"Nah. I'd be too uncomfortable talking to them."

"But not with me?"

She shakes her head.

"I like talking to you. You listen to me and you don't judge me."

"I'm flattered. But I'm the last fucking person to be giving relationship or sex advice."

I lean back in the chair and push my empty plate away. I can't think about Kyra having sex. My brain is way too mangled up with visions of her as a little girl and the glimpse of her half-naked ass I saw a few minutes ago. She's growing up too fast. It seems like just yesterday I was babysitting her. Now she's asking me questions about sex and looking less like a little girl and more like a woman. It's confusing as hell, and I have no idea how Aiden is dealing with this shit.

"Most of the girls I know have had sex already, way before they were seventeen. With a few guys, even. Not at the same time, though... At least I don't think so. You know what I'm saying, right?"

She pauses and I nod, dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

"I don't feel that way about any of the guys I've dated, though. I don't even like kissing them," she plays with her napkin and doesn't look up at me. "Do you think maybe there's something wrong with me? Why don't I feel anything yet?"

I suppress the laugh and relief I feel.

"No, Angel. I think you're fine."

"Really?"

"Really. You'll feel it when you're ready and when it's the right guy. You can't force it. It should mean something, ya know? Especially your first time. Don't do it just because fuckin' Chloe says to. Just be you, like you've always been. Don't cave to pressure now. That's never been you."

Tor POV

She nods slowly.

"I just hate always being the weird one that isn't doing what everyone else is doing. I want to fit in, for once."

"Trust me, you're not the weird one. You're unique. You've always had your own mind and your own plan. I'd hate to see you change and end up like everyone else out there. That would be a shame."

She fidgets with her fork, pushing a small piece of ham around on her plate.

"I'm on the pill." She says softly, still looking at her plate.

I blink at her.

"Come again?"

"The pill. Birth control."

"I know what it is, Kyra. Why?"

"I was having a lot of cramps every month so Rayne took me to her doctor for a checkup. The doctor said it would help, and it has. I didn't tell my dad, though, and I'm afraid he's going to find them and go ballistic."

"Well, yeah, of course he will."

"Chloe says it’s a good idea anyway, though, because guys don't like to wear condoms."

My jaw clenches so hard I'm afraid I'm going to crack a molar.

"Listen to me, Kyra. There's a lot more to sex than just getting pregnant. There's all sorts of diseases you can get."

She stares at me, wide eyed.

"When you start having sex, you better make the guy wear a condom until you're damn sure you can trust him. I don't give a fuck if some little douchebag doesn't like the way it feels. You stand your ground and make him, okay?"

"Okay."

"If anyone tries to pull that shit with you, I'll put them in a fucking hole, Kyra."

I end the conversation by standing and taking our plates over to the sink.

"I better get going. I should have been at the shop hours ago. I'll see you tonight? About six?"

"Sounds good."

She stares out the window, lost in her thoughts.

"And wash my sweatshirt!" I yell over my shoulder on my way out the door.

As I drive to the bike shop, my mind keeps wandering back to the conversation I just had with Kyra. Maybe I should have said more. Or nothing at all. I've always tried to be there for her, but I sure as hell don't know how to give sex advice to a teenage girl who's on the verge of giving up her virginity. The mere thought of it makes me feel sick. I can't even get my own shit together when it comes to dating.

She always comes to me when she needs to talk, though. Or when she's scared. Or has something exciting to share.

It really should come as no surprise since my name was the first word she ever said.

Now it's like we're verbally bonded.

The motorcycle shop is already open and blaring with the racket of heavy metal music and air tools when I get there. My brother Tavian usually opens up the shop and I close, because he's a morning person and I'm usually up late at night, saving lost pets and stalking bad guys. You think I'm kidding? I'm not.

The shop belonged to my father, Thomas Grace, who lived, breathed, and ate bikes, and he passed that passion down to his boys. The only thing he loved more than riding was my mom. And his kids, of course. But mom came first, and that's the way it should be.

That changed twelve years ago when my dad dropped dead of a heart attack. Bam. Gone.

Being the oldest, I had no choice but to step up and take care of the family business, my mom, my four younger brothers and my little sister. Six sets of eyes all looking at me to put us back together again.

This went down just two months before the band’s big break, first major tour, and a record deal. I had to bail out of the band that me, Aiden, and Elara started years before and watch from the sidelines as they became rich famous rock stars. Meanwhile, my guitar ended up in a closet collecting dust and my dreams slowly faded away. But hey, I get a royalty check since I wrote some of the songs on the first album. Yay, me.

In the blink of an eye, I went from being a wild musician living on the road out of an old suitcase, partying hard without a care in the world, to having to be the responsible one.

Life is funny like that.

I enter through the back door of the shop, where my brothers Tavian, Torin, and Thalen are busy working in their areas. Tavian and Torin mostly do engine rebuilds, and Thalen does all our custom airbrushing and pin striping. We have another mechanic, Sled, who works part-time. I mostly work on the older, vintage bike restorations. Dad's strict rule was we only sell and work on cruisers, not racing bikes. To this day, I've made sure we held up that rule. No race bikes. No rice rockets. No scooters. Ever.

And yeah, my mom had a thing about the letter T and giving us unique names when she named all of us.

Every day starts the same for me at the shop, and it's the part I hate the most because I have to hole up in my office and go through the mail, sort out the bills and purchase orders, and set the schedule for upcoming work. I fucking despise paperwork, but my dad did this all himself so I figure I should, too.

After I finish the paperwork bullshit, I switch gears and focus on my role as the head of Devils’ Wolves MC and a pet rescue run by myself, my brothers and a few other bikers. Devils’ Wolves was my brainchild about five years ago, fueled by my deep respect for two things that my parents instilled in us: the love of pets and motorcycles. That and a bout of insomnia is how I came up with the perfect plan to actually do something with my life that made me feel like I had some purpose again.