Page 36 of Haunted By the Storm
I laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Maybe not normal for most people. But after everything that's happened, a party sounds pretty good, even if it is at an outlaw motorcycle club."
"Speaking of everything that's happened," he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I wanted to update you on the situation with Cantlay."
My smile fades. Cantlay, the loan shark Eric owes money to. The new threat on our horizon.
"What about him?" I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.
"We've been in touch. Makenna Gallagher's people are handling the negotiations. It looks like we might be able to resolve it without any... complications."
I know enough now to understand what "complications" means in his world. "That's good," I say cautiously. "Does that mean Eric won't be a problem anymore?"
"Eric's not going to be bothering you again," Storm says with absolute certainty. "Ever."
The conviction in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. I haven't asked for details about his confrontation with Eric, and he hasn't offered them. Some things, I'm learning, are better left unsaid.
"Thank you," I say simply.
He nods, accepting my gratitude without needing me to elaborate. It's one of the things I've come to appreciate about him—his understanding of when to press and when to let things be.
"There's something else," he says after a moment. "Once this Cantlay situation is resolved, you and Emily will be able to go home. If that's what you want."
The statement lands heavily between us. Home. Our little house with its familiar routines and private spaces. Away from the clubhouse, away from the constant presence of bikers and their families.
Away from Storm.
"Oh," I say, not sure how to respond. Of course it's what I want, isn't it? To get back to normal life, to stop hiding, toreclaim our independence. So why does the prospect fill me with such conflicting emotions?
"It's just something to think about," he adds quickly. "You've got time to decide."
I nod, still processing. "When do you think it will be resolved?"
"Soon. A few days, maybe a week." He pushes off from the counter, taking a step toward me. "But tonight, there's a party. And I'm thinking the butterfly might want to see what her mom's wearing."
Grateful for the change in subject, I manage a smile. "I haven't decided yet. I don't exactly have a costume closet at my disposal."
"Eda might have something you could borrow," he suggests. "Or Effie. They're both about your size."
I consider it, trying to imagine what kind of costumes the old ladies might have. "Maybe I'll check with them. Or I could just go as myself."
"Where's the fun in that?" he teases.
"Fine," I concede. "I'll figure something out. What about you? Does the big, bad biker dress up for Halloween?"
A slow smile spreads across his face. "Guess you'll have to come to the party to find out."
Before I can respond, Emily returns, butterfly wings slightly askew. "Storm, are you coming to the party? Will you save me a dance?"
He crouches down to her level, a gesture I've noticed he often makes when speaking to her. "Absolutely, butterfly. I'd be honored to dance with you."
Emily beams then looks up at me. "Mommy, you should be a butterfly too! Then we could match!"
I laugh, smoothing her ruffled wings. "I'm not sure they have butterfly costumes in grown-up sizes, baby."
"Actually," Storm says, straightening up, "I might have an idea about that. But it's a surprise."
Emily claps her hands in delight. "I love surprises!"
"Me too," I say, though in my experience, surprises rarely turn out well. "But no promises."
