The love of a badboy

Chapter Two

Jamie made it to her door in one piece, though her clothes were soaked through, and her shoes caked in mud. She fumbled for her keys, hands stiff from the cold, and unlocked the door with a quiet sigh of relief.

The moment she stepped inside, a dark-haired blur came barreling toward her.

"Mommy!" "Mommy!"

Lily slammed into her with enough force to nearly knock her backwards. It happened every day—and every day, Jamie loved it a little more.

Lily Carter was five years old and had a pure, unapologetic energy about her. Quick-witted. Brutally honest. Loud in the way only children who felt safe enough to be loud ever were.

She was the reason Jamie endured the bullshit of the past. But she was also the reason that she got up every day and fought for a better life.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Lily bounced on her toes, practically vibrating. "Guess what I did today with Sadie?"

Despite her exhaustion, Jamie smiled excitedly. "Hey, Bunny. What did you do today?"

Lily groaned dramatically, scrunching her nose. "Mom, stop calling me that!"

Jamie bit back a grin. Lily hated bunnies. Rabbits. Kangaroos. Anything that hopped. Jamie had never understood why, because all kids loved bunnies—but it was exactly why she used the nickname.

"We made sugar cookies," Lily continued, already over it, "and then we watched Moana because it was raining! I really wish you were here."

Her curls bounced as she talked, her joy infectious.

Jamie ruffled her hair, her chest tightening with love. Moments like these—the warmth, the innocence—couldn't be found anywhere else, no matter how hard one looked. She knew she was blessed every day, simply by meeting her daughter's eyes and seeing the purity that shone there.

They moved into the kitchen, where Sadie stood at the sink, rinsing the last cup.

"You didn't have to do that," Jamie said, setting her purse down.

Sadie smiled. "I wanted to. And after cleaning up messes all day, you shouldn't have to come home to more."

Jamie exhaled. "That means more than you know. Thank you."

"She was an angel," Sadie added.

Lily puffed up proudly. "Mommy, can we make cookies together next time?"

Jamie crouched, brushing a damp curl from Lily's cheek. "Absolutely. A whole baking day. Just us."

Lily squealed, and for the first time all day, the tension slid from Jamie's shoulders.

After settling Lily with Ms. Rachel, Jamie walked Sadie to the door. She pressed a fifty-dollar bill into her hand.

"That's too much," Sadie protested.

"You take amazing care of her," Jamie said gently with a shrug of her shoulders. "And you're a lifesaver."

Sadie smiled and accepted it. "Thank you. Really."

Jamie watched from the doorway as Sadie climbed into her beat-up '99 Camaro. The engine sputtered before catching, and Jamie didn't relax until the car disappeared down the street.

She sighed and went back inside, already picturing a hot bath, a glass of wine, and the ending to the book she was currently reading.

But first, she had a daughter to put to bed, and that in itself would be a task she wasn't really ready for.

Lily loved her mom's reading just as much as Jamie loved reading to her. The only problem was that Jamie was completely over the strange voices Lily insisted she use. "To make it sound believable," Lily would always tell her mother, as if that really changed anything.

"You ready, bunny?" Jamie asked as she walked into the living room.

Lily jumped up with the most enthusiastic smile. "Okay, Mommy, but this time you have to read it in Spanish," she said, motioning animatedly with her hands.

Jamie smiled despite her lack of enthusiasm. She knew she could never say no to the little girl who had her mother's gorgeous smile.

The bedtime routine unfolded—pajamas tugged into place, teeth brushed with far more splashing than necessary, and at least three stuffed animals carefully arranged on the bed, each one being given a very important role. Lily climbed beneath the covers and scooted closer, her head finding its favorite spot against Jamie's side.

As Jamie began to read, her voice slipped into Spanish, soft and melodic despite her earlier protests. Lily's eyes fluttered, her breathing slowing. Occasionally, Lily would murmur a word back to her, correcting her pronunciation with a sleepy seriousness that made Jamie smile.

By the time the last page was turned, Lily was already drifting, her small hand still curled into Jamie's shirt. Jamie brushed a kiss against her daughter's hair, lingering there a moment longer than necessary, letting the quiet settle.

No matter how heavy the day had been, moments like this always reminded her of what truly mattered.

Later, Jamie sank onto the couch, a glass of wine within easy reach and her book resting in her lap. She was blessed with a few quiet hours before she would have to drag her exhausted body to bed.

Jamie had always been a loner. Social interaction drained her in ways she could never quite explain, leaving her worn down long before the day was over. Every morning she went to work was another test of endurance, one that required her to gather every ounce of strength she had just to face people, smiles, and small talk.

The silence of the house was her sanctuary. No expectations. No conversations she had to navigate. Just the soft hum of the evening and the steady rhythm of her own breathing. Nights like this were how she recharged, how she reminded herself that she was still her own person beneath the roles she carried—mother, café owner, survivor.

She took a slow sip of wine and let herself breathe, knowing this peace, like everything else, was temporary—but grateful for it all the same. Her sister had laughed when Jamie told her she was opening a café—not unkindly, but because she knew her too well. How are you going to endure this? Her sister had asked on opening day.

Jamie hadn't answered right away. She didn't need to. She already knew the truth.

She would endure far worse if it meant protecting her daughter.

Her thoughts drifted between her old life and the new one she was currently building.

Sam, her ex-husband and the reason she needed to rebuild, hadn't always been like that.

In the beginning, he'd been kind. Attentive. Full of promises and gentle touches and dreams that sounded like forever. She'd believed him. Believed in them.

Then Lily was born.

Stress crept in. Long hours. Money problems. Apologies that came too easily.

The first time he grabbed her wrist hard enough to bruise, she'd been more shocked than afraid. He'd cried. Promised. Sworn it would never happen again.

It did.

Walls became targets.

Then she did.

The words cut deeper than the blows. Made her doubt herself. Shrink.

Until one night, he turned that rage toward Lily.

He hadn't hit her—but he'd scared her. And that was enough.

Enough to leave.

Enough to never look back.

Now, in the quiet home she'd built with her own hands, Jamie took a slow sip of the warm wine.

Her thoughts drifted again.

Ace.

Ethan Cross.

The biker who'd walked into her café almost as if he owned it.

She didn't know how he'd learned her name. If he kept coming there, she knew he would be a problem that she would fix; he didn't scare her, not in the least.

She wasn't shaken—not the way some women were. What she felt was something sharper. A warning. The kind that settled deep in her bones.

She knew men like him. Men who believed the world owed them obedience.

Still… she wasn't blind.

He was infuriatingly handsome. Polished in a way most bikers weren't. Clean lines. Controlled power. The kind of danger that didn't shout.

And dangerous men had always been her weakness.

She didn't want that anymore.

Jamie finished her wine and set the glass aside. Her body ached too much for the stairs, so she curled deeper into the couch instead.

The couch had been awful when she bought it—stained, torn, forgotten. She'd almost left it behind.

But she cleaned it and fixed it up.

Turned it into a safe place to land.

Just like she was doing for herself.

And for the little girl asleep upstairs.