15. Emery
Emery
“Crap!” The vase hits the edge of the counter, glass shooting everywhere as it breaks on the tile floor.
I tip my head back and close my eyes as Charlie's scream pierces through the quiet afternoon. I just got her down for her nap ten minutes ago, and since I’m running on less than two hours of sleep, I’m exhausted.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. I can get through this. After all, I've gotten through worse.
My shoulders sag as I tiptoe through the glass shards scattered on the kitchen floor and make my way into the living room. Charlie wrestles around in her bassinet, not settling when I pick her up.
“Of course you’re tired.” I brush a finger over her cheek and hum softly. “That’s what happens when you keep Mommy up all night.”
Her nose scrunches. She’s exhausting but adorable.
Thankfully, it only takes a few minutes of rocking her before her lashes flutter closed, and she settles back into her dreams. But I don’t set her down right away. I cradle her close, humming her favorite song until she’s fully asleep.
“Don't worry.” I skim my fingertip over the ridge of her nose. “We'll get through this like we always do. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
I don't know if I'm saying it to her or myself. I’d like to think I’m safe here. Hayes seems certain of it. But I know better than to trust anything too good.
Outside, a motorcycle rumbles down the street, passing the house and any dashing hope that it might be Hayes.
He left two days ago, and I’m anxious for him to get back into town.
Tempe explained the guys were away taking care of business but skirted around what exactly that means.
Either she doesn’t know, or they’re still being careful around me, given who my uncle is and my temporary status of living in Hayes’s house.
I understand either way, and I probably don’t want to know what Hayes is up to. While the Twisted Kings don’t deal in the same businesses as my uncle, it’s clear that not everything they do is legal.
Does it matter so long as Charlie is safe? So long as she has her father in her life?
Setting Charlie in her bassinet, I head back into the kitchen to clean up the broken glass. The shards blend into the checkered tile, making it difficult to find all the pieces. When I stretch my fingers under the stove to grab a shard, I cut my palm on a clear shard of glass I didn’t notice.
“Ouch.” I clutch my hand to my chest.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
I jump at the voice coming from behind. My heartbeat hammers between my temples as I shoot to my feet and spin around. Hayes towers in the doorway to the kitchen, worry etched on his face.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He takes a step back. “I didn't mean to scare you. I came in and saw this…”
He waves his hand at the mess on the floor, and guilt sweeps through me. He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself. This is his house. I’m the guest here.
It’s not Hayes’s fault I’m jumpy from years of not trusting my surroundings.
While my uncle kept his business associates at a distance, he wasn’t always around.
When he’d leave the room or look away, their gazes would trail me.
Once, I found a camera in one of my stuffed animals.
I still don’t know who was watching, just that someone always was.
“It’s okay, I’m fine.” I force a smile, my hands still shaking. “I broke a vase and cut myself picking it up. I’m so clumsy sometimes.”
I squat to continue sweeping up the glass with my bloody hand when Hayes rushes forward, stopping me.
“I’ll get it.” He turns my hand over in his. “We need to get this bandaged. And you need shoes. There’s glass everywhere.”
Of course there is. He’s been gone two days, and now he’s returned to a bleeding mess. It was too much to think I could pretend for his sake that I’m holding it together.
I sink back on my heels and sigh, meeting his stare. The mosaic of green and gold spikes my racing heart. Leather and cologne flood my senses. The faint hint of cigarette smoke hangs on his clothes, but it’s not heady enough for me to think it’s because he was the one smoking.
My shoulders deflate. “You’re home.”
“Just in time, it seems.” His smile is gentle as he brushes a strand from my cheek.
The gentlest graze of his fingertips against the shell of my ear has my arms prickling. My belly fluttering. Until he pulls away, and the room is suddenly cooler.
After my mother died, I forgot how it felt to be hugged. To be loved. To be held. With her gone, I was submerged in my uncle’s world, where touch was something to be feared.
Until I met Hayes on New Year’s.
His hands were careful. His touch loving. His body a promise of warmth and safety. Hayes reminded me that there is comfort to be found in another, and now I’m craving it endlessly.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Hayes says, scraping his boot against the kitchen floor to clear a path.
“It’s just a little cut—”
“Emery.” His tone is a hit of adrenaline to my veins, stealing any argument straight from my lips.
When we reach the small downstairs bathroom, he leads me in first. There’s barely any room in the cramped space. The heat of his body is palpable when he slides into the room behind me.
Hayes opens the medicine cabinet above the sink, forcing my back to the counter, and I have to hold my breath to steady myself. The brush of his chest peaks my nipples. My legs shake, knees rattle. He’s a shot to my heart, overwhelming my senses in the best possible way.
“Sit.” Hayes motions his chin to the counter behind me.
I grip the counter, pushing onto it so my legs dangle between us. Hayes doesn’t bother keeping an appropriate distance. He presses right against me, cupping my palm in his hand as he dabs the cut with antiseptic.
I wince, drawing in a quick breath through my teeth.
“Sorry. I should have warned you that it would sting.”
I can’t help but smile at his comment because it’s sweet and thoughtful. This lethal biker stands before me wearing patches that represent all he’s done, yet he’s worried about causing me pain as he takes care of me.
“What’s so funny?” he asks when I chuckle.
“It’s interesting, that’s all.” I shrug. “How many wounds have you inflicted in your line of work. Yet you’re worried you’re hurting me by taking care of mine.”
“I never want to hurt you, freckles.” His green eyes lift, and my belly flutters. “You deserve to feel good all the time.”
Those are dangerous words.
Borderline merciless as he lifts my hand and blows a gentle breath over the cut, drying it before applying a bandage. Goose bumps roll in waves up my arms, a flush of anticipation tickles through me, and I shiver.
Hayes smiles, not missing my reaction. “Better now?”
“Yes.” My answer croaks out, so I change the subject. “You’ve been gone for a couple of days.”
“Unfortunately.” He frowns. “Were you and Charlie okay? I asked Ghost to check in while I was gone.”
“He did. And so did Luna. So did all the girls, actually. They've been wonderful.” His eyes meet mine, and I immediately look away. “We've been fine. You don’t need to worry about us.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot his frown deepening, but he doesn’t respond to that. He presses the bandage to the wound, wrapping it around my hand and securing it snugly to stop the bleeding.
“You should keep that on for at least an hour, and then we can take a look to see if you need stitches. I’ll have Patch drop by later to get a second look.”
“It's just a small cut.” I hop off the counter, ignoring that it puts us chest to chest as I slip around him and quickly leave the bathroom, walking down the hallway to the kitchen. “I’ve had worse.”
The second those words leave my mouth, I realize they're the wrong thing to say because Hayes snags my arm, spinning me in the hallway to face him. “What do you mean you’ve had worse? Someone hurt you?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I swallow hard. “I meant the car accident that killed my parents… I was in the car when it rolled over.”
My fingers move to the back of my head, digging in my hair until I find the rugged scar that runs the length of my skull. Hayes steps closer, threading his fingers through mine to feel it himself. He’s no longer smiling when he finally takes a step back.
“How old were you when they died?”
“Six.” My gaze falls to the floor. “It was a freak accident. One moment we were driving to get breakfast, and the next the car was upside down. There was so much glass everywhere.”
I glance back at the kitchen floor, covered in shards from the vase. The same icy feeling that ran down my spine that day sends a chill through me now.
“My mom died on impact. She was the first one I saw when I came to. She was just… hanging there, upside down. I’ll never forget the look on her face. Like there was still surprise in her eyes, even after she was gone.”
I shake my head, rubbing my hands down the front of my shirt, willing my stomach to settle. “My dad was coughing, so I thought he was still with me. But he didn't make it to the hospital. I still don't know how I survived. Sometimes I feel like maybe I wasn't supposed to."
Hayes tips my chin up with his thumb when I try to avoid his gaze. “You were supposed to survive, Emery. Don't ever doubt that. You were meant to be here for Charlie… For me."
I search his face for the lie, but it isn’t there. Maybe he’s right. If for no other reason, I was meant to bring Charlie into both our lives.
When he lets me go, I turn toward the kitchen and grab the broom like I should have done the first time, but he immediately snags it out of my hand and starts sweeping.
“You shouldn't have to clean that up. I’m the one who made the mess.”
“You've done nothing but clean since you've moved in. Sit down and let me help you for once.” He scoops the glass into the pan and empties it into the trash. “Was that a new vase?”
“Yes. I hope you don't mind me redecorating. Some of the rooms could use it.”
“They all could use it.” He chuckles. “I don’t mind.”
“I made sure to pick out things I think you'll like, so it feels like home for you.”
“It would take a lot more than decorations to make this a home for me, unfortunately. Even if I do own the house.”
“Because it was your father's?”
His back stiffens, like it does every time his father is mentioned. “Yeah, he made sure there weren't many good memories made here.”
“What about your mom?” I tread carefully. Hayes never mentioned her in a negative light aside from the green-eye comment. “Do you have good memories of her?”
“A few” is all he says before he returns to sweeping.
Clearly, bringing up his mom is off the table.
“Well, I made sure to pick out things that you might like, so it doesn’t just feel like me in here.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Hayes smirks, sweeping away any lingering tension from talking about our parents.
“I suppose only you can answer that, but either way, it’s your house, not mine. I want you to like it after I’m gone.”
Hayes freezes. “What do you mean after you're gone?”
“Just that.” I shrug, trying not to think about how my stomach sickens considering it.
“After my uncle is dealt with, I’m sure you won’t want me hanging around.
It’s bad enough you have to babysit me when I’m more than capable of taking care of myself under normal circumstances.
And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you see Charlie whenever you want.
But I’m not getting any ideas in my head. I know this is all temporary.”
Even if I hate it.
Hayes is deathly silent. His green eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them as they barrel into me.
“You think this is temporary?”
I hug my arms around my stomach, shrugging. I don't want it to be temporary, but I can't exactly say that to him when I’ve already forced myself into his life.
“I’ve put a lot on you,” I say, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not saying that’s what I want, but I don’t want to mess up your life more than I already have. When all this is done, I can go. You don't have to feel obligated to look out for me forever.”
“You think you’re an obligation?” His jaw ticks.
“You didn’t ask for this,” I remind him.
Hayes scans my face, and I hate that it feels like he reads my every thought. His frown turns to something else the longer he stares until he pulls out his phone and types out a text.
“Do you have plans this afternoon?”
“No.” My eyebrows knit. “I was just going to finish decorating. There are a few pictures I want to hang in the hallway upstairs, but that’s all.”
Saying it out loud makes me realize how much I’ve truly moved myself in. No wonder he seems bothered all of a sudden.
“So no plans?”
I shake my head.
“Well, you do now. Tempe is going to come over and watch Charlie for a little bit. Go get changed.”
“Changed?” I look down at my dirty jeans and T-shirt. “Where are we going?”
“You'll see.”