Page 37 of The Grief We Hold

“That still doesn’t tell me why I shouldn’t leave. If anything…” I glance up the stairs, aware my voice might be carrying to Fen’s ears. I drop the volume. “If anything, it makes me think I should keep moving. Picking up shifts for a week or two before moving on.”

His pale blue eyes remain fixed on mine. “That’s not fair on the kid.”

His words irk me. “Please. This year has been more than enough. I’m doing the best I can with what I have to work with.”

He squeezes my knee. “I know. That’s why you should stay. The club can protect you. Keep an eye out for trouble if you tell us who we are looking out for.”

I consider what he’s saying for a moment, but I can barely focus because of how close he is to me. He smells of soap. His palms are warm, and I don’t know if he realizes it but he’s squeezing and massaging my thighs. I feel giddy. Dizzy, even.

Everything in me tightens.

His pale blue eyes are filled with a sincerity I don’t want to acknowledge.

At least, not yet.

I can’t. Doing anything with this man would be so utterly reckless.

I look over to the door, searching for something to break the spell I’m under. “Did you also get a new safety chain?”

Wraith stands so quickly, it’s like I just burned him. Or he realized we’re in the small space of this hallway, way too close to each other too.

He continues with his DIY project. “Yeah. I got a new main lock, a chain, and a dead bolt.”

“Tell me about the club. What do you do? Is it your full-time job?”

His shoulders flex as he drives screws into the wooden frame. “I’m sergeant at arms for the club, and yeah, it’s my full-time job.”

“What does a sergeant at arms do?”

He stops what he’s doing for a second but doesn’t turn around. Like he’s contemplating something. “I make sure the club and its members are safe.”

“Like a security guard?” I can see why he would be a good person for the job. His size and demeanor make him a man I’d be reluctant to cross.

“Not exactly. I’m not standing at the door of the clubhouse monitoring people coming and going. But I make sure that any work we’re planning on doing can happen without anyone getting hurt.”

Maybe it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me, but I swear I can fill in the gaps of what he’s leaving unsaid. Motorcycle club business is illegal. People carry guns and can get injured or killed. He helps plan whatever they do to make sure none of his men get hurt.

Somehow, that makes his presence even more reassuring. Perhaps I’m losing my mind. I can’t decide if it’s self-preservation…that I’d rather be on the right rather than wrong side of him. Or it could be as simple and basic as I want to be near someone who has the skills to keep me and Fen safe right now.

“Why did you decide to do that with a motorcycle club rather than, say, the military or police or something like that?”

Wraith closes the front door, and it snaps shut perfectly. “Because I’m shit at following bullshit orders and didn’t want to shave my head.”

He reaches for his coffee cup and takes a gulp. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and even that is attractive.

“Is it dangerous?” My question is quietly spoken. I can hear Fen humming to himself upstairs.

Wraith reaches for a lock of my hair and lets it slide through his fingers. Warmth trickles through me as it falls back to my shoulders. “Not sure a woman clearly running away from something should be making comparisons about how dangerous my lifestyle choices are versus her own.”

I stand. From my place two steps up, we’re eye to eye. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I need to go see to Fen.”

As I turn, Wraith reaches for my wrist and spins me back to him. His lips brush mine so quickly and gently that I almost miss the warmth and flavor of him.

“I’m a dangerous man, Raven. You’re right to be cautious of me. But I’m still going to make sure nothing happens to you.”

And this time when I turn and run up the stairs, he lets me go.

12

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