Chapter 8 – Ruby
I'm still standing at the window like some lovesick teenager, watching Joey's broad silhouette through his mother's kitchen window. I should move away, should stop torturing myself with what can't be. He made his choice clear enough when he left.
Tommy's drawings are scattered across the table, and I begin gathering them up, trying to focus on practical things. Tomorrow, I'll call my latest client, work on their website design, and be the responsible single mother I'm supposed to be. I'll forget about rough hands holding mine gently, about deep voices sharing secrets, about—
A knock at the door makes me jump, sending the papers fluttering to the floor.
It can't be.
But when I peer through the peephole, Joey's standing there, looking somehow both determined and uncertain. My heart leaps into my throat as I open the door.
"Did you forget something?" I ask, aiming for casual and probably missing by miles.
"Yeah," he says gruffly. "My common sense, apparently."
Before I can ask what he means, he steps forward, one hand coming up to cup my face. His thumb traces my cheekbone, and I find myself leaning into his touch.
"Joey?"
"I'm not good at this," he warns. "I'm too old, too damaged, too deep in a world you shouldn't be anywhere near."
"I know." I reach up, covering his hand with mine. "You've told me all the reasons why this is a bad idea."
"But I want to try anyway." The words seem to cost him something to say. "If you'll let me."
Hope blooms in my chest, but I force myself to be careful. "What changed your mind?"
"My mom." He lets out a short laugh. "She reminded me that sometimes being safe isn't the same as being happy."
"Wise woman."
"Yeah, she is." His other hand finds my waist, drawing me slightly closer. "She also reminded me that I'm not my father. That maybe I deserve a chance at... something good."
"You do deserve it," I tell him firmly. "Even if you don't believe it yet."
"You don't know all the things I've done."
"I know enough." I step closer, tilting my face up to his. "I know you protect what's yours. I know you keep your promises. I know you let my son teach you about cookies and actually paid attention."
"Speaking of Tommy..." His thumb is still tracing patterns on my cheek. "This affects him too. We need to be sure about this."
My heart warms at his consideration for my son. "Tommy already adores you."
"That's what worries me. If this goes wrong..."
"Then we'll deal with it." I place my free hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating strong and steady. "But I think it's worth the risk."
He studies my face for a moment like he's memorizing it. "My world is dangerous, Ruby. People get hurt. People die."
"I know."
"The Outlaws—the rival club—they're pushing for war. Things could get ugly."
"I know that too."
"And you're still not afraid?"
I consider this. "I'm afraid of lots of things. Of failing Tommy, of Derek coming back, of not being able to make rent next month." I meet his gaze steadily. "But I'm not afraid of you."
Something fierce and protective flashes in his eyes. "Rent won't be a problem anymore."
"Joey—"
"Let me do this," he interrupts. "Let me take care of you both. Not because you need it, but because I want to."
"I can't be your charity case."
"Trust me, charity is the last thing on my mind when I look at you."
Heat floods my face at his tone. "Oh."
His thumb traces my lower lip, and my breath catches.
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs. "Tell me this is crazy and send me away."
Instead, I rise up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
For a moment, he's completely still.
Then his control snaps, and suddenly, I'm being pulled against him, one hand tangling in my hair while the other tightens at my waist. He kisses like a man starved, and I melt into him, my hands gripping his leather cut to stay upright.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and I can feel him trying to reign himself back in.
"Fuck," he mutters. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Too old?" I tease, though my voice is shaky.
He growls low in his throat. "Don't tempt me…"
A small noise from down the hall makes us both freeze. Tommy's standing there in his dinosaur pajamas, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"Mr. Joey came back?" he asks, a smile spreading across his face.
Joey steps back slightly but keeps one hand at my waist. "Yeah, kid. Hope that's okay."
Tommy runs forward, wrapping himself around Joey's leg. "Does this mean you'll have breakfast with us tomorrow? Mommy makes really good pancakes."
I watch Joey's face soften as he looks down at my son. "That so?"
"Uh-huh. With chocolate chips!"
"Tommy," I say gently, "Mr. Joey might be busy tomorrow—"
"Actually," Joey cuts in, "pancakes sound perfect. If that's alright with your mom?"
The hope in Tommy's eyes as he looks up at me is impossible to resist. "I suppose we could manage that."
"Yes!" Tommy bounces excitedly. "Can we watch cartoons too?"
"Back to bed first," I tell him firmly. "It's way past your bedtime."
"Will you both tuck me in?"
Joey looks at me uncertainly, and I nod in encouragement.
"Sure, kid," he says. "Lead the way."
I watch as my son practically drags Joey down the hall, chattering about his favorite cartoons and what kinds of pancakes we should make. Something warm and tender unfurls in my chest at the sight.
This should feel too fast, too soon. But somehow, it just feels right.
When Tommy's finally settled back in bed, dinosaurs arranged protectively around him, Joey and I stand in the hallway, neither quite ready to say goodnight.
"Stay?" I ask softly. "Just to talk," I add quickly when his eyes darken. "I think we have a lot to figure out."
He nods slowly.
"Yeah, we do." His hand finds mine again, fingers intertwining naturally. "But whatever happens, I promise you this—you and Tommy are under my protection now. Both of you."
And despite all the reasons I should be wary, should take things slow, should protect my heart and my son's, I believe him completely.
Sometimes the most dangerous choice is the right one.