Page 46 of Haunted By the Storm
"You," I admit. "Us. How unexpected all of this is."
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Good unexpected or bad unexpected?"
I consider the question seriously. "Just... unexpected. I never saw myself with someone like you."
"Someone like me," he repeats, his expression thoughtful. "You mean a biker? An enforcer? A man with blood on his hands?"
"Yes," I say honestly. "All of that. But also, someone who sees me, really sees me. Who doesn't treat Emily like an inconvenience or a complication, but like a person who matters? Someone who makes me feel..." I trail off, not sure how to articulate the complex swirl of emotions he evokes in me.
"Feel what?" he prompts, his voice low and intimate in the morning quiet.
"Safe," I finally say. "You make me feel safe. Which is ironic considering your lifestyle."
He nods, understanding the contradiction I'm pointing out. "Sometimes the most dangerous man in the room is the safest one to be with," he says. "As long as you're on his side."
The statement should alarm me, should remind me of all the reasons I should keep my distance. Instead, it settles something in me, an acknowledgement of a truth I've been circling: Storm is dangerous, yes, but his danger is a shield for those he cares about, not a threat.
And despite all logic and reason, he cares about me. About Emily.
"What happens now?" I ask, the weight of everything we've said, everything that's unfolded between us, hanging in the air.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle. "That depends on you. On what you want."
"I told you what I want last night," I remind him. "I want you in our lives. But I'm not naive, Storm. I know it's complicated. Your club, your responsibilities, the danger that comes with all of it..."
"Nothing about that changes," he acknowledges. "The club is my family, my life. But you and Emily... you've become important to me. More important than I expected."
"So where does that leave us?"
He considers the question, his eyes never leaving mine. "It leaves us figuring it out," he says simply. "Day by day. If you're willing."
Before I can respond, a small voice calls from the hallway, "Mommy? Are you awake?"
Reality intrudes in the form of my sleepy-eyed daughter, standing in the doorway in her butterfly pajamas, hair sticking up in all directions. She blinks in surprise at the sight of Storm in my bed, but there's no shock or distress in her expression, just curiosity.
"Storm stayed for a sleepover?" she asks, padding into the room.
I sit up, pulling the covers around me though I'm fully clothed. "Yes, honey. He wanted to make sure we were safe after the party."
Emily considers this explanation then nods in acceptance. "Can we have pancakes? I'm starving!"
Storm chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Pancakes sound great, butterfly. Why don't you go brush your teeth while your mom and I get up?"
She beams at him, apparently delighted by his presence at breakfast, and scampers off to the bathroom. Once she's gone, I turn to Storm, half-expecting awkwardness, but he just smiles.
"She's taking this well," he observes.
"She likes you," I say, still marveling at how easily Emily has accepted Storm's presence in our lives. "She's never really had a male figure around consistently. Just my brother occasionally, but..."
"No one like me," he finishes for me.
"No one like you," I agree.
He reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. "I meant what I said last night, Camryn. I want to be in your lives, both of you. If you'll have me."
The sincerity in his eyes and the warmth in his voice sends a flutter through my chest. "I want that too," I admit. "But I think we should take it slow. For Emily's sake."
He nods, accepting this without argument. "Slow it is. Starting with pancakes."
