18. Kate
Kate
Seeing Finn with the club girl hit me harder than I thought it would.
The last month with him always trailing behind us had been good. More than good. For the first time in a while, I’d felt safe, and not just safe, but happy.
Lucy and Reaper had surprised me and Noah with a day out, insisting on driving us into town. I’d protested at first, tried to argue that I didn’t need anything, but Lucy was relentless.
Two prospects had trailed us around and I was on guard the whole time, but I found myself actually enjoying the time spent with them and Reaper wasn’t as bad as I’d first thought. By the time we came back, my arms were loaded with bags full of new clothes for me and Noah, toys, even a stroller.
I’d told her I’d find a way to work it off, maybe behind the bar or helping Maria in the kitchen, but she’d just laughed and shook her head.
“It’s the least I can do for my nephew,” she’d said, smoothing a hand over Noah’s dark curls.
Reaper had let his walls down just long enough to hold my son again. His whole face had changed in that moment, the hard lines softening into something almost tender. It had felt like family. The kind of family I’d always dreamed of. Loved. Supported. Protected.
For a few hours, it had been perfect, but then I walked back into the clubhouse and saw her sitting in Finn’s lap, laughing, her hands roaming over him like she owned every inch.
His jaw was tight, his eyes dark, and I couldn’t unsee it.
Couldn’t stop the ache that tore through me.
I couldn’t stand there and watch it, so I did what I do best. I ran.
Maria and her husband, Riot, had brought me home in the truck. They’d offered to stay, but I couldn’t face them. I needed time just me and Noah, but I heard the sound of a bike pull up, and when I peeked through the curtains, I saw a prospect outside the house. Always watched.
I told myself it didn’t matter. That it shouldn’t matter. Finn would never want someone like me. I was bruised, broken, a mess of scars inside and out. Caleb had seen that, and even though he’d stood by me for Noah’s sake, it had never been for me. Not really.
But the last few days, I’d let myself imagine—just a little—what it might be like if Finn looked at me the way he looked at Noah, like I was something precious, worth guarding. What it might be like if he touched me with that same steady care.
Whilst shopping, I’d found myself missing him. Turning around to talk to him or ask his opinion before I caught myself and remembered he wasn’t with us.
I’d let myself believe, just for a heartbeat, that maybe I wasn’t too broken to be wanted.
After seeing what I had in the bar, I knew better, and it hurt more than I could stand. I really was just a job to him.
Noah stirred in my arms, little fists curling as he whimpered in his sleep. I pressed a kiss to his soft hair and tucked him into the cot, smoothing the blanket over his tiny chest. For a moment, watching him breathe calmed me.
I turned, intending to crawl into bed and shut the world out, when the door creaked open.
Finn.
He stepped inside, shoulders broad enough to fill the frame, his eyes catching mine before darting away as he ran his hand through his hair. The air shifted, thick, awkward.
“Just checking in,” he muttered, lingering by the door.
I nodded, getting into bed and curling up with my back half-turned. “We’re fine.”
But the tension in the room was anything but fine. I could feel it, like a live wire humming under my skin. The memory of the club bunny in his lap burned behind my eyes, clashing with the memory of him asleep on the floor, Noah’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger.
He shifted, boots scuffing the floor. “I didn’t . . . with Riley. It wasn’t—” He blew out a sharp breath, scrubbing a hand over his face.
I shrugged, staring at the wall. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low, rough, “it does.”
I wanted to ask him why he cared, why his words twisted inside me like hope. I wanted to tell him how stupid I felt for letting myself imagine what it would be like if he ever looked at me the way I wanted him to.
Instead, I whispered, “You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything.”
When I finally looked over my shoulder, he was closer than before, standing just inside the room.
Finn stared at me like he wanted to say something and hated himself for it at the same time.
“You looked at her like you wanted her,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
“Yeah,” he replied roughly. “Thought I did.”
The words sliced straight through me. I looked away quickly, blinking hard against the sting building behind my eyes.
“But she wasn’t who I wanted on my lap.”
My breath caught.
Silence stretched between us, heavy and sharp.
Finn dragged a hand over his face roughly before looking back at me. “You think this has been easy for me?” he muttered. “Sleeping down the hall from you every night. Pretending I don’t want things I shouldn’t.”
Every part of me locked up.
Finn looked away briefly before speaking again. “You and that kid got under my skin somewhere along the line.”
Emotion swelled painfully in my chest.
He took another step closer without seeming to realize he’d done it. His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth before lifting back to mine.
I found myself sitting up slowly, drawn towards him in a way that felt dangerous. Finn’s breathing roughened slightly, he bent closer.
Then Noah stirred in the cot beside us.
The sound snapped through the room like cold water.
Finn stepped back immediately, dragging both hands through his hair. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, before spinning on his heel and leaving the room.
My heart hammered painfully against my ribs.
For one reckless second, I thought he would’ve kissed me.