Page 55 of The Bastard's Lily
I scoop him up, his weight settling easily on my hip. “Knew they would, champ.”
Over his shoulder, I catch a ripple of quiet giggles. A cluster of younger teachers by the door are doing a not-so-subtle double take, eyes flicking from my kutte to the ink on my arms. One nudges another, and they both look away too late.
Calla notices and laughs, shaking her head. “You’re a distraction,” she murmurs, amusement dancing in her eyes.
I lean in and press a slow kiss to her cheek, the scent of her shampoo cutting through the late-day chalk dust. “Can’t help it,” I whisper.
Beau wiggles between us, grinning. “Can we get ice cream?”
Calla laughs again, sunlight catching in her damp hair as she shifts Beau’s fox to her other arm. “We’ll see, buddy. Let’s just get to the truck first.”
I slide an arm around her waist as we head for the parking lot, her warm smile lingering against the spot where I kissed her.
By the time we pull into the driveway, the sun’s tipping toward the trees, casting the cabin in warm gold. Beau launches out of the back seat the second the door opens, fox in one hand, backpack in the other.
“Snack time!” he yells, racing for the kitchen.
Calla laughs, shaking her head. “Wash your hands first,” she calls after him, but he’s already digging in the fridge.
I follow her inside, the smell of pine and wood smoke greeting us. Beau clambers onto a chair at the kitchen table, happily demolishing an apple and a handful of crackers, narrating every bite. I catch Calla’s hand and give it a gentle tug, pulling her toward the short hall that leads to the bedroom. She raises a brow but lets me steer her out of earshot.
“What’s going on?” she whispers.
I keep my voice low. “Talked to Ridge today. He heard about the car at the school. Says you and Beau should stay at the clubhouse for a while—lock it down, more eyes, more security.”
Her mouth parts in surprise, but I squeeze her fingers before she can answer. “I told him I’d talk to you,” I add. “Your call. But Ridge is right—it’s safer there until we know what the Scorpions are planning.”
The distant crunch of Beau’s snack echoes down the hallway, a reminder of exactly why I’m asking. Calla’s eyes drift down as I’m talking, and she catches my hands in hers.
Her fingers still for a second. “Rook… why are your knuckles like this?”
The skin is raw and split, with a thin smear of dried blood along my thumb. I hadn’t even noticed the sting until she pointed it out.
I give her a half-smile, more a smirk than anything. “Don’t worry about it.” When she starts to protest, I squeeze her hand. “Handled something that needed handling. That’s all.”
She studies me for a long moment, worry flickering behind her eyes. “You fought someone.”
“Prospect mouthed off. Boar supervised.” I shrug like it's nothing. “End of story.”
The silence stretches, then she exhales and shakes her head, thumb brushing gently across the split skin.
I tilt my head, meeting her gaze. “So… yes?”
She blinks. “Yes?”
“Come stay in my room at the clubhouse again.” My voice softens. “Ridge is right—it’s safer there. I’ll set up a bed for Beau. Whole crew will watch your backs.”
Calla bites her lip, glancing toward the kitchen where Beau is still happily crunching crackers and singing to his fox. When her eyes come back to mine, I can see the answer forming.
I run my thumb over the back of her hand, a quiet promise. “Just say the word and I’ll make it happen tonight.”
Calla still hesitates, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where Beau hums to himself. “Rook… I don’t know. Moving us, even for a night—it’s a lot.”
I step in close until the scent of her shampoo cuts through the wood smoke of the cabin. My hands find her waist, thumbs tracing slow circles just above her hips.
“Calla,” I murmur, letting her name vibrate low in my chest. “It’s just one night. A safer place, doors locked, brothers on watch. You and Beau, under my roof.”
She starts to protest, but I dip my head and press my lips to the spot just beneath her ear—a slow drag of warmth that makes her breath catch.
