Then again, I will have to pee eventually, especially after this coffee, and I’d really like to brush my teeth before we have this out.
I’d like to do some having it out of my own.
“Can you give me twenty minutes?” That should be enough time to get the most important of my emails read and responded to.
Scythe lets out an even longer sigh, but I know that it’s for Maverick’s benefit as well. He nods tightly at me and scowls at his cousin. “Sure. See you both in twenty.”
Chapter 8
Maverick
After Loreena answered her emails and made sure the cats were doing okay, she allowed me to take her upstairs. The top of the house is a lot nicer than the unfinished basement. She seemed to have no problem walking down the hallway to the bathroom, and then through the brightly lit living room with a big bay window, and into the sunny kitchen.
Scythe had prepared the square wooden table, setting out a muffin, yoghurt, and slices of orange at three different spots.
Loreena seems surprised at the breakfast put out for her, but I’m not. Scythe must be in full-on dad mode at the clubhouse daily. He’s always been a natural caretaker. Most people just expect dads to look like… dads, not like tatted up bikers proudly wearing their club vests wherever they go.
“So,” Scythe says when we’re seated across from him. “Do you feel up to explaining to me how you came to be here? Everything from the start, right up until the felony that Maverick committed in taking you?” he asks gently, more coaxing than commanding.
Loreena peels the paper off the muffin, and my eyes go to her fingers. They are long and delicate, her nails neatly trimmed. She picks off a portion of the top and nibbles it.
“Mmm. These are good.”
I nearly die at the sound. She’s so close to me that our elbows nearly brush. She combed her hair, but didn’t put on any makeup. She’s just as lovely without. Gorgeous. Alluring. I could think of a hundred other words, but having my cock turn into a lead pipe in my pants while I’m trying to have a conversation with Scythe isn’t on my bingo card for today.
“Thanks. I made them myself.” Scythe is so clearly proud of that fact, as well he should be. If I tried baking, I’d probably burn the damn house down.
Loreena keeps nibbling at the muffin while she starts talking. Her voice is basically emotionless, like she’s pushing the words out of a rote spot. She sounds much different than when she spoke to me in her kitchen days ago, but it still hits hard, even if she’s not visibly upset.
She gives a quick rundown of what agoraphobia is, a timeline of her life trapped in her apartment, her studies to be a lawyer, taking the tests online, and slowly growing her list of clients so that she could pay back her student loans and support herself. She gives the same speech about trying all the different kinds of meds and different theories, seeing all sorts of doctors, and how nothing worked.
It brings us right back to now.
I think she’s worried that Scythe might try and kill me. She keeps glancing up at him, then her eyes sweep to me, and then back to Scythe.
He’s the club’s sergeant-at-arms. I’m not sure she knows that, or even if she does, she probably doesn’t realize that it’s actually Scythe’s job to maintain order. He’s the one who keeps things flowing smoothly, who gets people to obey. He’s also the brawn behind the club’s security, and it’s very clear that in hispersonal life, he sees me as having stepped out of line. I need to be put right the fuck back into place.
I think he’s just trying to figure out what that place is.
And how to do it somewhat gently.
One look at his face, and I can tell that he’s as reluctant as I am to consign Loreena back to that prison of her apartment.
People have this idea of guys who ride bikes and belong to a club as being all a bunch of dumbass thugs, but the opposite is true in Scythe’s case. He’s a smart man. He listened intently to everything Loreena had to say. He’s in no hurry to break the uncomfortable silence, even if it makes me squirm. I did everything he warned me against. Broke the law. Committed felonies. Took a woman who can’t leave her house,out of herhouse. And I’ve made itallhis problem.
I don’t exactly expect Scythe to respond with anger, and certainly not with violence, but Loreena isn’t so sure. Despite the nice breakfast he set out, she might still expect that he’s going to dole out some hard love. I can’t say that I don’t have it coming, but just seeing Loreena so uncomfortable makes me want to shoot out of this chair and dive in front of her.
If Scythe is going to tell me that I have to take her back, I don’t give a shit that he’s family, that I’m not usually a violent man. He’s going to end up flat on the floor.
He clears his throat and surprises us both. “I assume the therapists you talked to had you work on facing that trauma and learning how to heal, rather than just giving you medication and methods for stepping outside?”
“I- I mean, a few of them, but I never wanted to talk about what happened.” Loreena sets down half of the uneaten muffin.“I’m not going to talk about it now,” she whispers, studying her plate.
“That’s fair.” Scythe uses his calm, patient tone. “I do think you need to understand that trauma isn’t something you can just get over. No amount of medication is gonna take away what happened. Trying to push it away and ignore it, just ends up making things worse. But I guess you’ve had years to learn that.”
Okay, where the fuck did Scythe get a degree in psychiatry?
Loreena’s head snaps up, and we share a look. Hers might be astounded, but there’s some real consideration there beneath the surprise. The words already seem to be sinking in.
