Page 14 of Saving Helena

“She was just a baby. Iwouldn’thave touched her.”His throat flexed. “I couldn’t believe it when Roscoe accused me of coming on to her.”

Fuck.Thiswas all stuff I knew.I’djust started on the fringes of the Brotherhood a few years after Dimitriwas kicked out, butI’dheard the story. Of course, it was bullshit; everyone knew that Roscoe was over the top when it came to his little girl. You breathed wrong, and youwere done, butthe fact thathe spread the rumors around.Thatkind of thingwas hard to recover from in our circles.

“Iknow itwasn’ther fault,”he admitted.“But I still hate her a little. She was just thirteen and had always been talking to me. Just a kid.”Kicking the cans again, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked into the darkness. That would be an issue if I couldn’t get Dimitri on board.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Helena

The night had passed in a blur, and before I knew it, Maddox had ushered me up and pushed me forward into my childhood bedroom, his hands lingering gently on my elbows for a minute. I’d never thought of my elbows as an erogenous zone before, but suddenly, I was sure they were. My room was just as I had left it.

“Go to sleep, baby. You’re exhausted,” he’d said.

He wasn’t wrong. I had been pushed past the point of no return. The stress of the day had crept up on me. At that moment, I was confused by this new version of Maddox Bishop, so I allowed him to move me forward until I collapsed on my bed alone. I was face-down on the bed, asleep before I knew it.

This morning, I traced the faded pictures that decorated the walls with my fingertips, Ferris wheel rides, fun runs, and a rare camping trip with my dad. Everyone should have a dad that would step up to the plate like he did.Granted,my upbringing had been unconventional, but I never held it against him.

My mom had been a club bunny who got pregnant after a two-week bender that she’d had with my dad. She didn’t want a kid, andDad didn’t want an old ladyeither, but hewantedme. When she came to him for money for an abortion, he talked her into going through with the pregnancy. My dad told her that ifshe went through with it, he would keep the baby, no strings, and raise me himself. She agreed, delivered, and disappeared into the wind. My dad gave me a picture he’d had of her, a blurry Polaroid that he had taken. I knew her name, but I didn’t see any reason to look for a woman who wasn’t interested in being a mother. Roscoe Marsh had been everything I could have ever wanted in a parent.

The photos around my room spanned a childhood. Mydadholding me as an infant, the Brotherhood patch attached to my onesie, the tiny cap from the hospital still on my head.

He looked awkward, holding me like I was going to break, but there was a look on his face of awe. Me, learning to walk, holding onto a Brother’s hands. Dad, wrangling my blonde hair into pigtails. They were lopsided, and one was coming undone. Pictures of me in various stages sitting on motorcycles, wearing vests of club members, grinning gap-toothed or with braces, goofy and awkward, and then shy and just coming into adolescence. Pictures of me with the club girls and at rallies, arms slung over my dad. He wasn’t perfect, but he tried.

Sighing, Iwent through my other things. Thankfully, there were a few clothes left over that I could use to augment the ones I had grabbed from my apartment. It had been years since I’d been here, and somehow, the room was still the same, a memorial to my childhood.

Showering, Itugged on some shorts and a T-shirt and threw my hair into a ponytail. I dug around my bag until I spotted a pair of tiny red stop sign earrings hanging from my bulletin board, which necessitated a quick nail polish job. There was no wayIdidn’t leave a plethora of nail polish here. Diggingunder mysink,I uncovered less than 50 shades but plenty of reds to choose from, includingone glittery red that was a winner. I painted one nail on each hand white with a little ‘x’ just for kicks. Feeling ready for breakfast and starved enough to eat my weight inpancakes,I headed for the door, ducked into the hallway on a syrupy goodness mission, and stopped short.

Maddox filled the hallway, leaning against the opposite doorway, his eyes fixed on me. He took up the entire space, sucking out the oxygen.

Morning light spilled from my room and the lone window, but the hallway was still dark and smoky. Dust motes caught in the rays that speared through the shadows cast over Maddox’s shape. It was clear that he hadn’t gone to bed yet, his eyes tired.

“Waiting for that talk?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out breathless. He straightened up, pushing himself off the wall, and stepped closer, crowding into my space. Of course, he’d be in the room across the hall. The president’s room – made sense since I was across the hall from Dad growing up. Now, itseemed awkward.

"Just making sure you're settling in okay, princess," he replied, his tone a low rumble that resonated through me. "You had a long day yesterday."

I nodded, appreciating his concern, but I was still slightly put off by his presence in the hall. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Yeah, being back here, it feels… nice.” I tried not to quantify it. It did feel nice; that wasn’t a lie.

It was an illusion, though, and I couldn’t stay. The thought of asking Maddox for money was already making me sick. Maybe there was another way around it. The possibility of staying in Haverboro lingered in the back of my mind, tickling my brain. Perhaps there was a way to figure out all the logistics.

I knew that some didn’t want me here. I had embarrassed myself a lot when I was young. Dimitri still hated me; his glare had been on my back all night. When I was around thirteen or fourteen, I had propositioned him, and he’d disappeared from the MC altogether for a while. I had fancied that I’d had a crush on him. It was hard to remember what my early teen self was thinking of. Apparently, I had disgusted him. Not that he should have taken me up on anything when I was such a baby, but he had taken off. Dimitri and I were friends then, so I cried for weeks.

Maddox tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made my heart race or made me want to vomit—Icouldn’t decide which.

"I want it to feel more than nice,” Maddox said.

What did that mean? I struggled to understand the meaning behind the words. There was innuendo. I wasn’t naïve, but it was this version of Maddox and his suggestive tone that I was trying to fit together. He’d turned me down years ago, and I wasn’t sure if something changed.

“Well …” I started.

“If you need something, I’ll ensure you have it. If something’s wrong, I’ll fix it." His eyes were intense on mine, so much so that I wanted to look away and break the moment. A sweat started to break out between my boobs.

“Um, okay?” I said it with a question. His declaration threw me off. I’d come to him for help, andhis whole intense vibe wasn’t new to me, but it was the sexual undertone combined with it that I was struggling with. Maddox had always been weird about everything, but I’d watched him focus on the MC in previous years. He’d attacked it with that grumpy energy that he’d arrived with like everything was a chore and everything was a bother.

I always thought what he felt for me bordered onhateor, atthe veryleast,an intense dislike. Right now, though, there was a shared history and a glimmer of something else that seemed to shimmer in the smoke motes, and it wasn’t hate.

"Thanks, Maddox. I appreciate you letting me come here," I said, my voice genuine. "I wasn't sure where else to go." He frowned, his head canting a little bit.

"You're family, Helena.Alwayshave been. Always will be. This is your home.”

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