Page 30 of My Darling Mayhem

I swallowed. "Yeah…."

He stared at me longer than he needed to.

Lowering my face to break the contact, I shifted to the edge of my seat. "Thank you for the ride, but you really don't need to help me. We don't have to be friends just because your brother and my son seem to be."

Now more than ever, I needed him out of my life. He was too close to everything I was trying to hide from.

Archer searched my face as if he was two seconds from calling me on my shit.

"More judgment…nearly forgot you don't like to be associated with people like me."

I rolled my eyes. "By people like you, do you mean hot, single men who show kindness to single moms? Because yeah, I don't need that."

His smile was slow and completely perfect. "You think I'm hot?"

I pushed open the door, reaching for my crutch as I heard Archer laughing from behind me. He had opened his door and rounded the truck to help me.

"So your aversion to me isn't because of my 'gang,' but because of my handsome face?"

Keeping my face down, I situated the crutch under my arm and tossed my laptop bag over my neck, holding my coffee in my free hand. Archer gently shut my door, waiting for me to reply.

"My aversion is to complications and to dangerous people being around my son. Your club is dangerous, which means you're dangerous. So, yes, I have an aversion to you. I'm not judging you. I'm just doing everything I can to keep my son safe."

I watched as his face contorted from happy and playful to hurt. I'd done it again, but I said the wrong thing.

"You don't think your son is safe around me?"

My lungs burned with the need to protect this little world I'd been hiding inside. Just tell him a lie, that he wasn't safe, even if deep down I knew he was and that I was in denial and scared. A piece of me wove together a picture of him being in our lives. He'd become a proverbial postcard pinned to my fridge with the world's strongest magnet. No matter how I buried the image every chance I got, it existed in my subconscious each time I closed my eyes.

But what if I said yes and let him in, and he ripped the rug out from under me? What if he was the best thing that ever happened to us, and then he left, or he did something that got him arrested? I couldn't do that again. I refused to risk my heart or my son's for someone who could break us both. It was a lie, one that was crafted as a shield to protect us. An invisible shield to keep him out, and while it hurt me to do it, I knew deep down I had to.

"No, I don't think he is. You're the president of a one percenter motorcycle club, correct?"

His jaw worked back and forth.

"I am."

"Then that's answer enough for me. Your club is dangerous, which means you're dangerous. I have to do what's best for my son."

He stared at me, his pillow-soft lips pursed tight as if he were keeping his thoughts at bay.

Then, without another word, he walked back toward his door, and with a loud slam, he reversed and drove away.

This time a few of those fucking tears slipped free as if the fears I had over losing control of my life had finally manifested into an ugly virus that kept all potential happiness at bay.

EIGHT

ARCHER

There wasa certain peace in leaving the city and venturing into the country.

With the wind in my face and my club at my back, I finally felt at peace, like my mind had found a way to stop throwing the look on Wren’s face when she said I wasn’t safe back into focus. It had been a week since I spoke to or even saw her. She was good to drive the day after our little moment, and from then on, I hadn’t interacted with her or Cruz.

Which was tough, because I liked the little guy. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to have Kane over, so it didn’t make sense to have Cruz hang out. Which was fine; this was better. Wren was right; we didn’t need to act civil or hang out just because the boys wanted to.

The sound of roaring engines brought me back to the present. My VP, Thistle, twisted his hand over the throttle while watching me from behind his riding goggles. He was essentially asking if I was good. I gave him a slight nod as we increased speed and continued back toward New York City.

We’d just returned from a rival club’s funeral, which wasn’t my favorite way to pass the time, especially when I wasin the middle of a custody situation. But for this particular president, most of the clubs along the East Coast arrived, and while everyone was pledging peace, there were glares, glances, and murderous undertones that promised violence. We had all shown up, smiled, and played pretend…but we also were taking fucking notes on who showed up and who was talking to who.

---