Page 49 of Robbin’ the Rich

The realization settled warmly somewhere beneath my ribs.

"Go," Nate said, nudging my shoulder.

I glanced at him.

"Before you start staring at her like a Victorian man seeing an ankle."

"And I’m the weird one."

I headed toward the bar.

The bartender greeted me with a nod when I ordered two beers. By the time I turned back toward the group, Robin had already claimed a cluster of high-top tables with her teammates.

The women were impossible to miss. Loud laughter rolled across the room while several conversations happened simultaneously. Belle appeared to be in the middle of telling a story that involved wild hand gestures and at least three people talking over her. Zella was laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink. Ariel sat perched on the edge of her chair looking delighted to be included. The whole group radiated a chaotic energy that should have felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt welcoming.

Robin spotted me approaching and smiled. “What are you doing here?"

“Throwing axes with Nate,” I said as I gestured to him with a nod before handing her a beer.

"You survived the axes?"

"Barely. Nate appears to have secret lumberjack ancestry."

Robin laughed. Then she started introducing me around the table. I recognized some of them already from Trixie's and derby bouts.

"Micah, you know Belle."

Belle immediately pointed at me.

"I know you, hot priest."

I nearly choked on my beer.

Robin shot her a murderous glance. "This is why I don't tell them things."

"That ship has sailed," Belle informed her.

“I’m Belle, it’s nice to meet you.”

She extended her hand and I took it. “Micah, I know you though. I’ve been to a couple bouts, it’s good to have you back. How’s the injury?”

“Good, healed up and ready to torment.”

“Mel, It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I said, shaking her hand.

The introductions continued.

Sonia greeted me warmly before turning around and asking what my intentions were toward Robin. Zella seemed amused by the entire situation. Ariel looked fascinated in the way younger siblings always looked when witnessing relationship drama.

"Okay. He seems normal," Mel said after an evaluating gaze.

Robin snorted. "Let's not get carried away."

The teasing continued for several minutes, but none of it felt mean spirited. There was no hierarchy here. These women laughed loudly, swore freely. They argued and interrupted each other constantly, refusing to let anyone take themselves too seriously. But beneath all of it was something softer, acceptance. It was the kind that wasn't conditional. It didn't require you to fit into a specific mold before you earned your place.

Watching them interact reminded me of something I'd spent years searching for without fully realizing it. Where I'd grown up, acceptance always came with expectations attached. People belonged as long as they believed the right things or acted the right way or presented the right image. The community I grew up in talked endlessly about love while quietly keeping score. This felt different.