A floorboard creaked downstairs.
Both froze.
Her mother reached for the phone.
Another sound.
Then a familiar voice:
“Coffee machine here is criminal.”
Her mother closed her eyes.
Bear.
Sophie jumped from the bed.
Her mother grabbed her wrist.
“Slow down.”
“He’s downstairs?”
“He said he was staying until morning.”
“You knew?”
“I knew.”
“And didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted you to sleep.”
“That worked.”
Her mother sighed.
They went downstairs.
Bear Maddox sat at Aunt Rachel’s kitchen table with one enormous hand around a mug that looked tiny in his grip.
He had removed the black leather vest.
Without it, he looked different.
Less like the leader of twenty bikers.
More like an exhausted middle-aged man who had spent the night staring at a door.
The gray-bearded club mechanic sat opposite him.
Both looked up.
Bear frowned at Sophie.
“You're supposed to be asleep.”
“So are you.”
The mechanic smiled into his coffee.
Bear pointed toward him.
“Do not encourage her.”
Sophie sat.
Her mother remained standing.
Bear noticed the notebook in Sophie's hands.
“Something happen?”
Sophie told him about the phone call Frank made the night before his crash.
Bear's face changed.
The mechanic leaned forward.
“He specifically mentioned papers?”
Her mother nodded.
“He said not to let anyone clear the garage before I went through them.”
Bear looked toward Sophie.
“You told the investigators?”
“Not yet.”
Her mother reached for the phone.
Bear stopped her gently.
“Morning is fine unless there’s something immediate.”
She looked toward him.
“How can you say that after someone broke into our garage?”
“Because there’s a deputy parked half a block away and two of my guys in the alley.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed.
“You put men outside my sister’s house?”
Bear immediately understood the problem.
“They’re not on the property.”
“That isn't the point.”
“You're right.”
Her mother clearly had not expected that answer.
Bear continued.
“I should’ve asked.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
Silence.
The mechanic looked down at his coffee.
Sophie watched both adults carefully.
Her mother said:
“I appreciate what you're trying to do.”
“But?”
“But you don't get to decide what protection looks like for us.”
Bear nodded.
“No argument.”
Sophie recognized something in his expression.
Grandpa.
Not appearance.
The ability to accept correction without turning it into humiliation.
Her mother sat.
Bear asked:
“Do you want the riders gone?”
She considered.
“No.”
“Do you want me to ask before doing that again?”
“Yes.”
“Done.”
The conversation ended there.
No defensive explanation.
No wounded pride.
Sophie filed that away.
At eight the next morning, the county investigator returned.
Sophie’s mother told him about Frank’s phone call.
He wrote everything down.
Then asked a question none of them expected.