“I like that. Do you want to know when I started to have feelings for you?”
I shuffle onto my side so I can face them. The moonlight casts a glow over their face. “Tell me.”
“It was in the bakery apartment, when you realized all the noise and people and bright lights and everything else was too much. You noticed. You let me be complicated without making me feel like a problem. Plus, you make a mean chicken and dumplings.”
I kiss Wren’s forehead, and then they look up at me through long lashes. “So, we’re really doing this?”
I nod. “Yeah. We’re really doing this.”
And just like that, the final wall between us falls.
There are no grand speeches. Just the kind of contented quiet that happens when you finally stop running.
23
WREN
“What are you doing sitting here all alone?” Wraith asks the following day when he walks into the clubhouse about twenty minutes after we arrived. He’s holding the hand of a young boy who is practically bouncing with every step. Beside the two of them is a pretty young woman with hair even blacker than my own that has a slight blue tint to it when the sun catches it through the window. Her hand rests on her pregnant belly.
I point at the doors to what I now know is both Grudge’s office and the room they use for church.
I’ve always had a passing interest in the role religion plays in life, even if we don’t want it to, or, in my case, don’t believe in it. The fact these men use one of the most religious terms to describe their meetings is humorous to me. I get that it’s sacred, if you wanna use that term, but church feels like a million miles away from what likely goes down in that room.
“He got a call from Grudge to go over some things, so he brought me with him.”
“He did, did he?” Wraith says, as if he knows more than he really does.
“Something about safety,” I add, but it’s not my finest acting moment.
Wraith smiles. “This is my old lady and fiancée, Raven. And our son, Fen.” Fen looks nothing like him. With his white-blond hair and curls, Wraith looks like a model. Beneath a thick beanie, Fen is surly and olive skinned. Thick eyebrows and a mop of unruly brown hair. I’m curious what their story is.
“You must be Wren. I’ve heard so much about you,” Raven says, offering me her hand to shake. I notice her hand is a patchwork of scars.
I wonder exactly what Wraith has been telling his future wife, but I smile. “It’s lovely to meet you both.”
“Dad says we’re gonna go out with Uncle Atom and cut down a Christmas tree so we can decorate the clubhouse tomorrow when it’s settled in place.”
“It’s a tradition,” Wraith says. “The whole club will be here shortly. You should come out with us. Get a tree for the ranch house.”
I’m dressed for it, in thick boots and warm layers. “I’d like that.”
“We need to go, or the best tree will be gone,” Fen says, bouncing on his toes.
Wraith grins. “Fen’s been hyped about the tree thing since Halloween. Had to get a temporary one just to keep him quiet.” But he rubs his hand over Fen’s beanie, affectionately setting it askew.
Fen laughs as he rights it.
Raven squeezes Fen’s shoulder and nods at me. “Come when you’re ready. They’ve got axes and spiked hot chocolate.”
“That sounds like a dangerous combination,” I say.
They leave out the back door of the clubhouse, and over the next half hour, there’s a steady stream of bikers and their families.
Smoke and Quinn arrive, and it’s the first time I’ve seen the two of them together. Smoke has a firm grip on her gloved hand, but leads the two of them, walking half a footstep ahead of her. She’s bundled up in a long coat and a thick mustard-colored scarf.
“Yay. Wren. Are you coming out with us?” she asks.
I glance over to church. “I’m not sure. River…Catfish is in with Grudge.”
