7. Kate
Kate
That night, sleep was useless. Every time I closed my eyes, Caleb’s face came back. His crooked smile, the way he’d looked at Noah. But mostly, the echo of his last words—“I have to go away for a while. If you’re ever in trouble and can’t find me, find Reaper.”
There I was, trouble dragging at my heels, and more trouble sleeping right by the door. The only entry and exit point.
Finn.
I’d caught him watching me more than once. His eyes were steady, guarded, like he was daring the world to come through him first.
Last night, when he’d walked in on me half-dressed. The shock in his face had been almost boyish, but the heat had been real. I’d felt his eyes on me, heat following his gaze.
God, it had been over a year since anyone had touched me. Over a year since I’d let myself remember what it was like to want, to ache. But it was wrong, so damn wrong. He was one of Caleb’s brothers, his family and off-limits in every way.
Caleb had been good to me. Better than I deserved. He hadn’t pretended we were some fairytale couple, hadn’t made promises he couldn’t keep. But when I told him I was pregnant, he didn’t run.
He stood tall, took care of what he could, made sure I had a roof over my head and money in my pocket.
Not for me, maybe, but for Noah. Because Caleb was that kind of man, the kind who never turned his back on blood, and that made losing him hurt even more. Because I knew he would’ve been a good father if he’d had the chance.
Still, that didn’t stop the guilt. The ache that whispered I wasn’t enough. That I was too broken, too scarred to be worth more than obligation.
Which was why it felt so wrong that every time Finn looked at me, something deep inside me sparked. I didn’t know him.
He could be like the rest, or he could be worse. A biker with a patch on his back and violence in his blood. I’d learned not to romanticize men just because they looked good and spoke calmly.
But Finn hadn’t touched me when he walked in, saw too much and when he could’ve let his gaze linger. He’d looked away, stepped back, and put distance between us. That shouldn’t have meant anything more than him being a good person, yet it did.
I’d caught the heat in his eyes before he shut it down. It had flared hot and then he’d closed it off.
Noah made a soft sound in his sleep, a tiny sigh. I froze, praying that he didn’t start screaming, then leaned over him, smoothing my hand over his chest until he settled. I couldn’t afford to want anything more, not when everything I had to lose was sleeping inches away from me.
At that moment, everything came down to a test. A piece of paper that would decide if they believed me.
I knew what it would say. I’d never doubted it, not once. Noah was Caleb’s, but knowing didn’t seem to matter, because until they saw it, until they had proof, I was still just a stranger with a story.
Someone they could turn away.
What if something went wrong? What if it came back wrong somehow, like a mistake, mixed samples.
No. I pushed the thought away hard.
The truth was the truth, but it didn’t stop the fear that kept me awake, because if they didn’t believe me, I had nobody else to turn to.
I rolled onto my side carefully, trying not to wake Noah. The motel room was dim except for the weak light near the bathroom door. Finn was still in the chair, his eyes locked on the window.
I frowned slightly. “How are you even awake?” I whispered.
His eyes shifted to me immediately. “Who says I am?”
“You answered too fast for someone sleeping.”
A quiet sound left him, almost a laugh. “I sleep light.”
My gaze drifted towards the knife resting beside him on the small table. Then to the way he sat facing the door instead of the bed.
Always listening. Always waiting.
“You don’t have to stay awake all night,” I said softly.
“Yeah,” he replied, “I kinda do.”
“For us?”
Finn rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before answering. “For the kid.”
The room settled back into silence. Outside, tyres hissed along wet pavement somewhere down the road. Noah shifted in his sleep, making a soft sound.
Finn looked over instantly, checking the cot before relaxing again once Noah settled. He probably didn’t even realize he’d done it.
“You’re tired,” I said quietly.
“So are you.”
“That obvious?”
“You fell asleep sitting up earlier.”
I let out a quiet groan. “That’s embarrassing.”
“You also snore.”
I stared at him, blinking. “I do not.”
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly, amusement flickering across his face. “Little bit.”
I narrowed my eyes, fighting the smile threatening to break through. “Liar.”
That earned me a proper smile this time, but it was gone almost immediately. Still, something about seeing it made the room feel different.
Less heavy.
I pulled the blanket higher over myself. “You can sleep for a while,” I offered. “I’ll wake you if something happens.”
Finn shook his head. “And if something happens before you wake me?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
He leaned back in the chair again, arms folded loosely instead of tight across his chest. “You sleep,” he said quietly. “I got it.”
Hearing someone say that after months of surviving on fear and adrenaline made my eyes burn unexpectedly. I turned onto my side before he could notice.
Finn stayed near the door and sometime between one breath and the next, I realized I wasn’t listening for danger anymore.
I was listening for him.