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That earned me a look that clearly called bullshit. Maria looked down at the pavement for a second before speaking quietly. “You need to leave me alone. Go home.”

Home. Funny fucking word now.

I watched her drive away before climbing onto the bike. I still did not leave straight away. Instead, I waited for a few minutes as usual, then followed her home.

I just sat there staring at the apartment entrance while snow gathered slowly across my shoulders because somewhere along the way looking out for Maria had started feeling more normal than anything else in my life.

I noticed the bakery man a week before I finally lost my shit over him.

The café sat across the street from the clinic with fogged windows and a flickering neon sign that buzzed loudly enough to hear from the pavement. At first, I only paid attention to the place because Maria started stopping there after shifts.

I told myself it didn’t mean anything because people bought coffee and breakfast before heading home. That was normal. Then I started noticing the same bloke behind the counter every morning. He was tall, with dark hair and sleeves rolled to his elbows, flour dusted across his forearms while he worked behind the glass display cases. The kind of man who looked safe, and I hated him immediately.

The first time I saw Maria smile at him through the café window, something ugly twisted low in my chest. It wasn’t polite smiling either. It was real. The kind she used to give me before I fucked everything up.

I stayed across the street smoking while dawn slowly brightened around the city and watched the bloke hand her a takeout cup.

Maria laughed at something he said, then she touched his arm. It was a tiny movement that probably meant nothing, but it still felt like somebody driving a knife straight between my ribs.

One morning, Ghost rode past the clinic while I sat on the bike across the street. The bastard slowed immediately, then pulled up beside me and killed the engine before following my line of sight toward the bakery window.

Maria stood inside talking to the bloke behind the counter while he packed something into one of those little cardboard boxes.

Ghost went quiet for a second, then he slowly looked at me. “No fucking way.”

I didn’t answer.

Ghost looked back toward the bakery again, where Maria started laughing at something the guy said. Then he barked out a laugh loud enough to echo across the street. “You’re getting replaced by a fucking pastry chef.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Ghost ignored me completely. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed. “Look at you sitting out here watching bakery foreplay at six in the morning.”

I flicked ash onto the pavement. “You done?”

“Not even close.”

Maria took the box and smiled at the bloke again before heading toward the door. She startled when she saw both of us there but returned the wave Ghost gave her.

Ghost watched her go before grinning beneath his helmet. “That’s it,” he announced. “He’s Cheesecake Guy now.”

I stared at him flatly. “I genuinely hope you crash on the way home.”

Unfortunately, by that night half the clubhouse was calling the poor bastard Cheesecake Guy.

“Riot’s getting cock blocked by a fucking baker,” Reaper called across the bar.

“Careful,” Ghost warned loudly. “Bloke probably knows how to communicate feelings and everything.”

“Maria getting filled by the cheesecake guy. That’s got to hurt.” Reaper replied.

I flipped them both off and headed outside before I snapped somebody’s neck.

After that, I couldn’t stop watching. Every morning, I told myself I wasn’t going to look through those fucking café windows again. Every morning, I did it anyway. Then one morning, I saw Maria laughing so hard she bent forward slightly while Cheesecake Guy stood behind the counter grinning at her.

Something inside me snapped, and I crossed the street before I even realized I’d moved.

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