Page 15 of Butcher's Honor

"Your parents," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "They know where you are?"

I let out a bitter laugh.

"No. They made it clear they wanted nothing to do with me when I got pregnant at nineteen. Their perfect daughter, knocked up by a warehouse worker who didn't even stick around." I take a shaky breath. "They said I'd ruined their reputation in their precious country club circle. Gave me an ultimatum—either get rid of the baby or get out."

His jaw clenches. "And you chose Tommy."

"Every time. He's the best decision I ever made." I smile sadly. "But it wasn't easy. I worked three jobs throughout my pregnancy and took online classes whenever I could. I lived in a studio apartment so small I could touch both walls simultaneously. But we made it."

"Without any help from them?"

"They sent a check when Tommy was born. I tore it up and mailed it back." I lift my chin defiantly. "I didn't want their guilt money."

Joey's thumb traces my knuckles again. "Good for you. Can't stand parents like that—choosing their fucking reputation over their own kid."

Something in his tone makes me look at him more closely. "Speaking from experience?"

He's quiet for so long I think he won't answer. Then, "Never told anyone this. Not even my brothers in the club." He takes a deep breath. "My old man was a mean drunk. He used to beat my mom and me when I got old enough to get between them. Then,one day, he just left. Mom always said it was because he couldn't handle the responsibility, but..." He shrugs. "I don’t now. Pretty sure he's dead in a ditch somewhere. Can't say I'm sorry about it."

"Joey..." I squeeze his hand.

"Don't need pity," he says gruffly. "Mom and I did better without him. Made us stronger."

"It's not pity. It's understanding." I meet his eyes. "Sometimes the family you're born with isn't the family you need."

"Like your cookie-loving quality control manager?" His lips quirk up slightly.

"Like my son, yes." I hesitate, then add softly, "And maybe like a grumpy biker who keeps saving us."

"Ruby..." There's a warning in his voice.

"I know. You're dangerous. You're not a good man. You've told me." I lean forward slightly. "But you're here, eating cookies and sharing secrets you've never told anyone else. So maybe you're not as bad as you think you are."

He stares at me for a long moment, something intense and unreadable in his eyes. "Or maybe you're not as smart as you look."

"Maybe not," I agree. "But I'm old enough to make my own decisions about who I trust. And, right now, I trust a man that, for some reason, others call Butcher."

"Trust," he repeats like it's a foreign word. "That's a dangerous thing to give someone like me. And I’m sure you know why they call me Butcher. I’m good with knives, and that’s as far as I’m going to say."

"I figured... And I know trusting you is dangerous. But I’m willing to go that far."

Chapter 7 - Butcher

Her trust sits heavy in my chest, too precious and too dangerous. Images of last night's raid flash through my mind—blood, gunfire, violence. That's my world. I can't drag her and Tommy into it.

"I should go," I say, finally releasing her hand. "Promised Mom I'd have dinner with her."

It's a lie, and from the way Ruby's face falls slightly, she knows it. But she doesn't call me out on it.

"Of course," she says, standing up. "Thank you for staying, for the cookies, for everything…"

"Lock up behind me," I tell her, falling back on practicality. "I'll send someone tomorrow to install those cameras, and we’ll fix the door."

She walks me to the door, Tommy's abandoned cookie drawings still scattered on the table behind us. At the threshold, she looks up at me with those eyes that see too much.

"Will you really come back? For more cookies?"

"I promised Tommy, didn't I?"

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