Page 57 of Haunted By the Storm
I nod against his chest, not wanting to dwell on exactly what ‘taken care of’ means. Some details are better left unspoken.
"We should also talk to Emily," I say. "About us, about what's happening. She deserves to know."
"Agreed," Storm says. "How do you want to handle it?"
The question is so normal, so domestic, a parent asking for input on how to approach a difficult conversation with a child. It strikes me again how naturally Storm has slipped into this role; how easily he's adapting to the complications of a relationship that includes a seven-year-old.
"Simply, I think," I say after a moment's thought. "Emily is perceptive. She's probably already figured out that something'schanged between us. We just need to confirm it, make it official in her mind."
"And what, exactly, are we making official?" Storm asks, his voice carefully neutral. "What do you want to tell her about us?"
I push myself up on my elbow to look at him, understanding the real question he's asking. "That you're my boyfriend," I say, the word feeling strangely inadequate for what Storm has become to me. "That we care about each other, and that means you'll be in our lives more permanently now."
He nods, but there's something in his expression, a hint of reservation, of something left unsaid.
"What?" I prompt. "Is there something else you think we should tell her?"
He hesitates, then sighs. "Boyfriend feels like a high school term, doesn't it? Not quite capturing what this is."
I smile, understanding his point. "What would you prefer? Partner? Significant other?"
"In the MC world," he says slowly, "when a brother commits to a woman, she becomes his old lady. It's more than just dating, more than just a relationship. It's a commitment, a promise of protection, of loyalty."
"Your old lady," I repeat, testing the term. "It sounds very... possessive."
"It is," he admits without apology. "But it goes both ways. The brother belongs to his old lady just as much as she belongs to him. It's a partnership, equal but different."
I consider this, thinking of Effie's words from yesterday about what being an old lady means in the MC world. "And is that what you want me to be? Your old lady?"
His eyes hold mine, serious and intent. "I want you to be mine," he says simply. "Whatever you want to call it."
The directness of his statement, the possessiveness that should alarm me but somehow doesn't, makes my heart race. "Ithink," I say carefully, "'boyfriend' is probably easier for Emily to understand right now. But between us... Yes, I'll be your old lady, if that's what this means to you."
The smile that spreads across his face is breathtaking in its intensity, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way I've rarely seen. "Mine," he says, the word somewhere between a statement and a question.
"Yours," I confirm, leaning down to press my lips to his. "And you're mine."
His arms tighten around me, the kiss deepening with a possessive hunger that sends heat spiraling through me once more. We might have continued, morning responsibilities forgotten, if not for the loud knock at the door, which startles us apart.
"Cam? Storm? You decent in there?" Blaze's voice calls through the door.
Storm growls against my lips, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "What do you want, prospect?" he calls back, his voice gruff.
"Got Emily with me," Blaze replies. "Tavia dropped her off early, said something about Ruby and Sera getting into a fight over the last pancake."
I stifle a laugh, imagining the scene. "Just a minute," I call, reluctantly extracting myself from Storm's arms. "We'll be right out."
We dress hastily, sharing secret smiles and stolen kisses. It's a side of Storm I haven't seen before, playful, almost mischievous; a lightness that contrasts starkly with his usually stern demeanor.
When we emerge from the bedroom, Emily is sitting at the kitchen table with Blaze, chattering excitedly about her sleepover adventures.
"And then Ruby said the monster wasn't real, but Sera got scared anyway, so I told her about how Mom checks under my bed every night, and that made her feel better." She pauses, finally noticing us. "Mom! Storm! Good morning!"
She bounds over to give me a hug, then, to my surprise, throws her arms around Storm's waist as well. He returns the embrace somewhat awkwardly, his hand patting her back in a gesture that's becoming more natural with practice.
"Morning, butterfly," he says with a softness in his voice reserved only for her. "Sounds like you had quite the adventure last night."
"It was the best!" she confirms, bouncing on her toes. "We had ice cream sundaes and watched three movies, and Octavia let us stay up until ten!"
