Chapter 8 Hayden
HAYDEN
The wind cuts sharp as we ride through town, but her arms wrapped tight around my middle take the chill off, warming my bones.
My back’s in bits after sleeping on the sofa again.
I’d choose the floor, but there’s no floor space.
Not for a man my size anyway, unless I want to be wedged between the bed and the dresser.
But there’s no way in hell I can share a bed with Faith.
There’s only so much temptation a man can handle before he snaps.
Faith leans into me like she belongs there, like she’s always belonged there. Every curve presses against my back, her fingers gripping my cut—not too tight, but trusting.
She’s nervous. I can tell. Hasn’t said much since I told her I’d take her to the school.
It’s not exactly my scene—cruising up to some sixth form college on a thundering Triumph Rocket 3, with a growling exhaust, parking beside a line of proud-parent Volvos—but I’ll be damned if I let her go alone.
I pull up outside the gates and kill the engine. The bike ticks beneath us as it cools, the silence somehow louder now.
“Go on,” I say, glancing back at her. “I’ll wait right here.”
“You sure?” She climbs off, smoothing down the borrowed hoodie and tugging at the hem of another one of my t-shirts underneath. There’s that awkward pause—like she wants me to say something reassuring. Something her brother would’ve said if he were here.
But I’m not her brother. And he should be here, not me.
I swallow down the guilt clawing up my throat and watch her walk through the gates and into the building. Around me, the car park’s filling fast—mums in heels balancing Costa cups, dads with their arms slung around their kids’ shoulders, phones ready for those cheesy certificate photos.
And here I am.
The gruff biker with oil under his nails, watching her from a distance like a shadow instead of a parent.
It should be Oak here. She should be showing her results to him, not me. But he’s rotting in a cell for something the club orchestrated. For something I should’ve taken the fall for. And now all I can do is stand here and try to do right by her in his place.
She’s too good for all this.
And when she comes back down the steps, eyes wide, gripping that envelope like it’s the winning ticket to a better life, my chest cracks wide open.
“Well?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
She opens the envelope, hands shaking. Scans the paper. Then looks up.
“I passed.”
My brows lift. “I never doubted you.”
She nods, a shaky breath escaping. “Manchester. It was a long shot, but… I got the grades.”
I don’t know what overcomes me, but I step forward and pull her into a tight hug, both arms around her as if shielding her from the whole damn world.
“I’m proud of you, Sunshine.” My lips press to hers before my mind registers what I’m doing. It’s nothing more than a peck on the lips, but it sets me on fire.
She freezes for a second. Then buries her face in my chest, her fingers gripping the back of my cut. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For being here.”
I don’t deserve that thank you. But I take it anyway.
“C’mon,” I say after a moment, pulling back enough to look down at her. “You hungry?”
She nods, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Good,” I say. “Because I’m taking you out. Celebration’s on me.”
She grins, bright and full of life again. And as she climbs onto the back of the bike, I make myself a promise. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Sunshine does something with her life and doesn’t lose herself like my sister.
She wraps her arms tight around me as I rev the engine of the bike and set off down the road.
My heart pounds like I’m doing something wrong—which I’m not. Not really. We’re just grabbing dessert. Even if I want to lick it off her lips.
We eat sundaes under flickering fluorescent lights, sat in a red leather booth with sticky menus and a jukebox that plays eighties rock ballads. She orders the same thing she used to when she was a kid—bubblegum ice cream with rainbow sprinkles and extra whipped cream.
“Still your favourite?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
She shrugs, sheepish. “You remembered.”
“How could I forget? You threw a full-on tantrum once when they ran out of bubblegum. Nearly had the whole clubhouse searching for an emergency tub at midnight.”
She snorts into her spoon. “That was a very serious crisis.”
“You were nine.”
“And clearly knew what I wanted.” Her eyes flick to mine, saying more than her words ever could. Only now it’s not ice cream she wants. It’s me.
I’d give this girl the world if she asked for it, but the one thing she wants I can’t give her.
Not after Oak worked so damn hard to keep her out of this life after what happened with his dad.
Same with my sister. My job is to keep her safe and the best way to do that is to help her get as far away from me as possible.
“So you’ll be starting Uni in September?” I scoop up a spoonful of cookies and cream. I’ll miss my sunshine, but uni is the best place for her, away from her mother. The club. Me.
“I can’t afford it.” She licks the spoon. “Mum said I needed to get a job to pay rent, now I’m eighteen.”
“If you were at uni, you wouldn’t owe her.”
“I can’t afford the accommodation at uni.”
“What about the course fees? Can you get a grant?”
“Yes, Mum qualifies as low income, but she wouldn’t fill in the forms for me to get a grant. I don’t think she wants me to leave.”
A snarl forms on my face. Oak always said his mother became bitter and twisted after his dad died and she turned to the bottle.
Of course, she wouldn’t want Sunshine to leave.
Who would? If she was my daughter, I’d want to keep her close forever and shield her from the world, but just like the skylark, birds need to fly free.
Clipping their wings will only make them resent you, no matter what her intentions.
Though I have a feeling that her mother, Jean’s intentions aren’t in the best interest of her daughter.
“I thought Mum would have tried to contact me today.”
“Did you want her to?”
She shrugs. “I just wish she would care.”
“There are plenty of others that do care.” I clear my throat and throw some notes on the table. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Surprise.”