Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
camryn
"Mommy, look! I'm flying!"
Emily spins in a circle, her butterfly wings fluttering behind her.
The homemade costume turned out better than I expected.
Iridescent fabric stretches over wire frames, decorated with glitter and tiny rhinestones that catch the light as she moves.
She's been wearing it non-stop since we finished it this morning, despite the fact that the Halloween party isn't until tonight. It’s not actually Halloween, but the club is having a party.
As Mayhem said: “Any excuse for a party.”
"You look beautiful, baby," I tell her, smiling at her enthusiasm. "The prettiest butterfly I've ever seen."
She beams, her face alight with joy. "Can Sera and Ruby see it now? Please?"
"As soon as they get back from school," I promise.
After two weeks at the clubhouse, we've settled into a routine.
Emily spends her days with me, doing schoolwork and crafts, then plays with Sera and Ruby when they return from school in the afternoon.
It's not perfect, but it's stable, which is all I can ask for right now.
"Is Storm coming to the party?" Emily asks, perching on the edge of the couch, her wings arching gracefully behind her.
My heart does a little flip at his name, just as it has every time his name has been mentioned since that kiss weeks ago. "I think so. It's at his clubhouse, after all."
"Is he going to dress up too?"
I laugh at the image of Storm in a costume. "I don't know, honey. You'll have to ask him yourself."
As if summoned by our conversation, a knock sounds at the door. Emily races to answer it, wings bobbing behind her.
"Storm!" she exclaims, and my pulse quickens.
I haven't seen much of him in the past two weeks. After our kiss, a kind of awkward tension settled between us. Not unpleasant, exactly, but uncertain. We've both been careful, polite, neither of us quite ready to address what happened or what it means.
"Hey, butterfly," his deep voice greets Emily. "Those are some serious wings you've got there."
"Mommy made them! Do you like them?"
"They're awesome," he says, stepping into the room. His eyes find mine over Emily's head, and that familiar warmth spreads through my chest. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," I reply, suddenly very aware of how I must look in my faded jeans and oversized sweater, hair hastily pulled back in a messy bun. "What brings you by?"
"Just checking in," he says, closing the door behind him. "Making sure you two are set for the party tonight."
"I'm a butterfly!" Emily announces unnecessarily but with great enthusiasm.
Storm's lips twitch in amusement. "I can see that. A very fierce butterfly."
"Butterflies aren't fierce," Emily corrects him seriously. "They're delicate and beautiful. But they're stronger than they look."
Something shifts in Storm's expression; a softening around his eyes, a slight smile. "You're right about that," he says, his gaze drifting to me. "Stronger than they look."
The subtext isn't lost on me, and warmth creeps up my neck. "Emily, why don't you go practice your butterfly dance in your room for a bit? I need to talk to Storm about grown-up stuff."
She sighs dramatically but obeys, fluttering down the hallway to her bedroom. Once we're alone, an awkward silence falls between us.
"So," I finally say. "The party. Is it going to be... appropriate for Emily?"
He nods, leaning against the counter. "The brothers know there'll be kids present.
It'll be tame, at least until the little ones go to bed.
After that..." He shrugs. "It's still a clubhouse Halloween party.
But Eda's set up the media room as a kids' zone.
They can watch movies and play games, all supervised. "
"That's good," I say, relief washing over me. "Emily's been looking forward to it all week."
"And you?" he asks, watching me carefully. "You looking forward to it too?"
The question seems loaded with meaning I'm not sure I'm ready to decipher. "I'm... cautiously optimistic," I settle on. "It'll be nice to do something normal for a change."
He raises an eyebrow. "A biker club Halloween party is your idea of normal?"
I laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Maybe not normal for most people. But after everything that's happened, a party sounds pretty good, even if it is at an outlaw motorcycle club."
"Speaking of everything that's happened," he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I wanted to update you on the situation with Cantlay."
My smile fades. Cantlay, the loan shark Eric owes money to. The new threat on our horizon.
"What about him?" I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.
"We've been in touch. Makenna Gallagher's people are handling the negotiations. It looks like we might be able to resolve it without any... complications."
I know enough now to understand what "complications" means in his world. "That's good," I say cautiously. "Does that mean Eric won't be a problem anymore?"
"Eric's not going to be bothering you again," Storm says with absolute certainty. "Ever."
The conviction in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. I haven't asked for details about his confrontation with Eric, and he hasn't offered them. Some things, I'm learning, are better left unsaid.
"Thank you," I say simply.
He nods, accepting my gratitude without needing me to elaborate. It's one of the things I've come to appreciate about him—his understanding of when to press and when to let things be.
"There's something else," he says after a moment. "Once this Cantlay situation is resolved, you and Emily will be able to go home. If that's what you want."
The statement lands heavily between us. Home. Our little house with its familiar routines and private spaces. Away from the clubhouse, away from the constant presence of bikers and their families.
Away from Storm.
"Oh," I say, not sure how to respond. Of course it's what I want, isn't it? To get back to normal life, to stop hiding, to reclaim our independence. So why does the prospect fill me with such conflicting emotions?
"It's just something to think about," he adds quickly. "You've got time to decide."
I nod, still processing. "When do you think it will be resolved?"
"Soon. A few days, maybe a week." He pushes off from the counter, taking a step toward me. "But tonight, there's a party. And I'm thinking the butterfly might want to see what her mom's wearing."
Grateful for the change in subject, I manage a smile. "I haven't decided yet. I don't exactly have a costume closet at my disposal."
"Eda might have something you could borrow," he suggests. "Or Effie. They're both about your size."
I consider it, trying to imagine what kind of costumes the old ladies might have. "Maybe I'll check with them. Or I could just go as myself."
"Where's the fun in that?" he teases.
"Fine," I concede. "I'll figure something out. What about you? Does the big, bad biker dress up for Halloween?"
A slow smile spreads across his face. "Guess you'll have to come to the party to find out."
Before I can respond, Emily returns, butterfly wings slightly askew. "Storm, are you coming to the party? Will you save me a dance?"
He crouches down to her level, a gesture I've noticed he often makes when speaking to her. "Absolutely, butterfly. I'd be honored to dance with you."
Emily beams then looks up at me. "Mommy, you should be a butterfly too! Then we could match!"
I laugh, smoothing her ruffled wings. "I'm not sure they have butterfly costumes in grown-up sizes, baby."
"Actually," Storm says, straightening up, "I might have an idea about that. But it's a surprise."
Emily claps her hands in delight. "I love surprises!"
"Me too," I say, though in my experience, surprises rarely turn out well. "But no promises."
Storm nods, taking my caution in stride. "I should get going. I’ve got some things to set up for tonight. See you both at the party?"
"We'll be there," I confirm.
As he leaves, Emily skips back to her room, chattering about the party and candy and dancing with Storm. I watch her go, marveling at how quickly she's adapted to our strange new circumstances. Children are resilient, Effie told me, and Emily is proving her right.
I just wish I could adapt as easily.
By the time evening rolls around, the clubhouse has been transformed.
Jack-o'-lanterns line the walkway, their flickering lights casting eerie shadows.
Cobwebs drape from every corner, and skeletons pose in surprisingly realistic positions throughout the main room.
Someone has dimmed the regular lights and replaced them with orange and purple bulbs, giving the whole space an otherworldly glow.
Emily is practically vibrating with excitement as we enter, her butterfly wings glittering in the colored lights.
I'm less enthused about my own costume, hastily assembled from items borrowed from Effie and Eda.
It consists of a flowing black dress, dark makeup, and a pair of gossamer wings not unlike Emily's, but in midnight black with silver accents.
"A night butterfly," Effie had declared, applying dramatic eye makeup with the skill of someone who'd done it many times. "Or a dark fairy, if you prefer. Either way, you look stunning."
I'm not convinced, but Emily's delight at our matching theme made it worth the effort.
The party is already in full swing when we arrive. Children in various costumes dart between the adults, high on sugar and excitement. The brothers, many in half-hearted costumes that amount to little more than fake blood or a mask pushed up on their foreheads, watch the chaos with amusement.
The kids are having the best time, and it’s going to mean the lead up to actual Halloween night is going to be extra special.
"Mommy, look! There's Sera!" Emily tugs at my hand, pointing to where Sera, dressed as what appears to be a miniature biker complete with a tiny leather vest, is helping herself to candy from a giant bowl.