Chapter 6 Hayden
HAYDEN
Ipark the bike outside the garage, dusk settling over us like a dark cloud, matching our mood.
Faith lifts the helmet from her head and shakes out her blonde curls, her rucksack hanging off one shoulder, straining her curvy frame. Her mouth’s set in a firm line, but I see the cracks in her posture. Today took its toll.
I take the bag from her without asking. She already carries too much. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll cook us something.”
Her steps slow. “Let me cook something for you.” She swallows as if a lump is lodged in her throat. “It’s only fair I do the cooking and cleaning. I don’t have any money to pay for my board, but I’ll get a job and pay you back—I promise.”
My chest squeezes. Fuck. She still thinks she has to earn her place. “You don’t need to pay me to stay in this dump,” I say, brushing my fingers under her chin, tipping her face up to meet my gaze. “And you don’t need to earn your keep. Just… let me take care of you, yeah?”
She blinks rapidly, swallowing hard. She doesn’t know that I owe her brother my life. Three years in the slammer Oak’s done—it should’ve been me.
“Hey, Wrath, where you been?” one of the prospects shouts from the garage. “Old man Mick came to collect his bike. He said you promised him he’d have it today.”
“Shit. Something came up. It still needs a new clutch plate. Did the part get delivered?”
He wipes his oily hands on a rag. “Yeah, came this afternoon. Want me to handle it?”
“If you can. Thanks, man.” I trudge up the stairs carrying Faith’s bag.
She follows me into the space above the garage. “I’m sorry I took you away from your work today.”
“Don’t worry about it. Old man, Mick can wait another day.” I drop her bag on the bed in the one room bunk. I’ve had girls over here in the past and thought nothing of it, but now, bringing Faith here, the place doesn’t seem good enough.
As I look around, I realise it’s not fit for a dog, let alone her. Yet, my sunshine girl seems to make everything brighter as she smiles up at me.
Something in my chest stutters as if she’s awakened my heart. It’s been dormant since my little sister died. I should know better than to let Faith stay here. She can’t get involved in my world and she can’t under any circumstances be mine, no matter how much I want that.
“So wrath, huh?” Her lips quirk in the corner. “How’d you get the nickname?”
I shrug, trying to remember. “It’s been a while. It just sort of stuck.”
She quirks a brow. “You don’t seem very wrathful. More like a gentle giant.”
I smile and laugh internally. She has no idea what I’m capable of, but if she keeps looking at me like this with her hands on my chest and that innocent lip bite, it’s only a matter of time before she finds out exactly what I’m capable of, only it won’t be my wrath I unleash, but something far more dangerous.
I pull out eggs, and sausages from the fridge, and a couple of slightly bruised potatoes from the cupboard. It’s not much, but it’ll do.
Faith leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching me like I’m the evening’s entertainment.
“You’re really cooking for me?” she asks, one brow arched.
I smirk. “Don’t look so shocked. I can handle meat.”
Her lips part. She blinks. “How much meat can you handle?”
My gaze slips down her curves, settling on her thick thighs, then back to her face. “Enough.” I stab a sausage with a fork and drop it into the pan. It hisses, as if it knows my secrets.
She bites her lip to hide her grin. “I always figured you were more of a takeaway and beer kind of guy.”
“I can fry, toast, and microwave with the best of them.” I shrug. “I’m a man of many talents.”
“Oh, yeah?” She leans forward on the table, chin propped on her hand. “What else you good at?”
My gaze drifts from the pan to her face, down to the curve of her hip where my t-shirt clings. “Riding.”
Her smile widens, cheeks pink, eyes glittering.
The oil crackles behind me, reminding me I’m meant to be flipping sausages and not flirting with my best friend’s little sister.
She watches me as if she’s hungry for something else.
I clear my throat, turn the sausages, and crack a couple of eggs into the pan. “You keep looking at me like that and I’ll end up burning your dinner.”
She leans back in the chair, totally at ease now. “I’ve never seen a man cook before. Didn’t know it could be this hot.”
I grip the spatula tighter, eyes fixed on the pan. “Careful, Sunshine. That kind of talk gets a man in trouble.”
She grins and swings her legs playfully. “I think you like it.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “Too much.”
The air between us thickens for a second, her smile faltering just enough for her to look surprised at herself. Then I plate everything up, breaking the moment.
“Eat before I decide to feed it to the dog I don’t have,” I say, sliding a plate in front of her.
She eyes it like it’s a gourmet meal. “You’re wasted in a garage. You could open a food truck. Wrath’s Kitchen.”
I silently chuckle. “Yeah, I’m sure with that name I’d be inundated with customers.”
She laughs, taking a bite of sausage. Her eyes flutter closed. “Okay… that’s stupidly good.”
I smirk as I grab my plate, still riding the high of making her smile. “Told you I know how to handle meat.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she says through a mouthful, shaking her head. She’s still in my shirt, still in my space, but the tension that wrapped around her like barbed wire is loosening.
Her shoulders finally drop, and her laugh sounds like it belongs here.
She’s safe. She’s fed. And for now, she’s smiling.
It’s a start.
“There’s a band on at the Black Crow tonight,” I say, tossing our dishes into the sink. “I’ve got a club meeting there, but you’ll be safe. Come with me?”
She looks up in surprise. “You want me to go to the club bar?”
“I want you where I can see you. And it’ll be good for you to get out, see some faces that aren’t trying to tear you down.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay. Yeah. I’d like that. What do I wear?”
“Wear whatever’s comfortable,” I say. “Doesn’t matter what it is. It’s only the Black Crow.”
She nods, eyes wide, almost vulnerable. “I don’t really have much.”
“Then keep my t-shirt on,” I say without thinking, then smile. “You already make my clothes look better than I ever did.”
She glances down at herself, tugging at the hem of my t-shirt, a flush rising to her cheeks. “You sure?”
“Positive.” I take a step closer. “You wear it like it was made for you.”
Her breath catches. “Then I’ll keep it on.”
And fuck me if that doesn’t make me want to tear it right back off her.
She’s dangerous in ways I never expected. Little Sunshine is now a woman and her rays are gonna get me burned because I just want to bask in her warmth all damn day.