“That’s fair. I could ask if they’ll come in pairs, or maybe even one at a time?”
Loreena ducks her head, a curtain of hair shimmering across her face. My hands itch to sweep it aside, but I ram them into my pockets instead. My body isn’t going to get the memo that my brain is trying to send. I’m here to help Loreena, and that’s the extent of this. Nothing more.
“Sure,” she agrees. “It can never hurt to have more friends, right? Maybe it will… I don’t know. Help somehow? But if not, it would be nice to have more people to talk to and who get me. Although, maybe they won’t. Not if they feel obligated to come.”
“No one’s gonna feel obligated,” Scythe says.
I hope he’s right. If anyone hurts Loreena in the slightest, I’d be having hot words about it. That wouldn’t end well, seeing as I’ve already done my fair share of hurting her just by trying to help.
“Anyway,” Scythe says. “I just want you to keep hoping.”
“Just not for a miracle.”
“I’m sure that it’ll take time.”
“Time that I’ll be here? In your house,” Loreena muses. “You can tell me to leave. I can go back to my apartment. I’ll just have Maverick do a reverse kidnapping exactly the same way.”
It’s her choice, but I feel thunderous just thinking about her being trapped there. I must look a little too roughly at Scythe because he blinks at me before offering Loreena a kind smile.
“No one is chasing you out of here. You’re welcome to the basement for as long as you like, or a room up here on the main floor. Maverick can sleep wherever you’re not. We’ll make sure everything is comfortable.”
I haven’t even thought about sleeping arrangements. I didn’t get any sleep last night. Taking the couch across from the bed downstairs might creep Loreena out. It might feel like an intrusion into her space.
It just shows how little I’ve actually thought this out.
And how generous Scythe is. He didn’t let me fall through the cracks when I got out of prison and now, even after I’ve done the worst thing I could have, at least probably in his mind, he’s not going to let anything happen to either of us.
He’s family and he’s here for me.
He’s made it clear the club would be there for me too, if I wanted them to be, even though I’m not patched in and don’t want to be.
Loreena doesn’t have much of a family of her own. Will she let us be there for her the way Scythe and the club have been there for me? Found family? Chosen family? People who refuse to let her go, or fall?
I hope she can read the offer right off my face.
“Thank you,” she whispers to Scythe before she clasps her hands in front of her. “I should really go call Sylvie though.”
She doesn’t need me to walk her down to the basement. She needs privacy. I’ve fucked up enough and I can’t give her much, but I can offer her that, at least.
Besides, I can tell that Scythe isn’t done with me yet. If I escape this kitchen with anything less than a new asshole ripped, I figure that I’ll count myself lucky.
Chapter 9
Loreena
Scythe obviously isn’t the kind of man who wastes time messing about. While I called Sylvie and filled her in on everything, then threw myself into work for a few hours, he and Maverick stayed upstairs and got organized. I was totally unaware of what they were doing. Their voices filtered down into the basement in dull murmurs and were surprisingly comforting. It was shocking all around just how easily I got used to my new surroundings.
I sometimes wondered if the agoraphobia extended to any place beyond my apartment. The uncertainty used to press down around me, worse than the reality ofknowing.
After a few hours of work, Scythe knocked on the basement door and came down to ask me if I’d be alright warming up dinner he’d leave in the fridge for me while he took Maverick to the clubhouse to discuss some work. I assured him that I’d be fine and tried to ignore the flicker of irritation that skirted across his face whenever he mentioned Maverick’s name. He said that he could have a few of the women stop by after dinner, so that I didn’t have to be alone.
It sounded optional, it truly did, but I didn’t want to bethat person.The one who hid in his basement and made the whole thing weird.
Right.Weirder.
I said that a visit sounded lovely. Scythe instructed me not to worry about being the best company. No one on earth expected me to be settled in within a day.
I’ve been sitting here in the living room upstairs, perched on the burgundy leather couch, a plate of chicken parm and a side of cut up veggie sticks placed on top of a dish towel on my lap. Scythe’s house is meticulously clean, and though the floor is some kind of wood, I didn’t want to risk making a mess. I’ve been picking away at the obviously homemade meal, surprised that I have any sort of appetite, and also at howgoodit is. These celery and carrot sticks were even cut up by hand, and they’re so darnedeven. Plus, there was homemade dipping sauce in a little bowl right beside the plastic wrapped plate.
