"Drink," Baker said, voice rough.
She blinked at him."I...I don't like—"
"Drink it," he repeated, softer this time but no less firm.
Her fingers curled around the glass.She lifted it to her lips and took a swallow.
Fire.
It burned all the way down her chest.Tears sprang to her eyes.She coughed, pressing her hand to her chest.
Baker nodded."Now, sip it."
He walked away.She lifted the glass and slurped a little into her mouth, held it against her tongue, and then swallowed.
Royalla members stood back, giving her space but not pretending they weren't listening.Their eyes flicked between her, Baker, and her mom.Curiosity, shock, and sympathy all tangled together.
She hated being the center of attention.All she wanted was to get her mom away from Cusclan Motorcycle Club.
Baddy crouched beside her, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back."Breathe, sweetheart."
She tried.The air thickened, as if she inhaled smoke.
Across the room, Baker took her mom gently by the elbow and led her toward the corner of the clubhouse.He handed her a drink too, but Lydia couldn't hear what he said.
She glared.Both of them had lied to her.She didn't want to understand.She didn't want to be here.She didn't want all these eyes on her, waiting for her to react, to break, to do something.
"Baddy," she whispered, barely audible."Get me out of here."
He stood, slid an arm around her shoulders, and helped her to her feet."Come on."
No one stopped them.No one said a word as he guided her through the clubhouse, past the bar, past the pool table, past the men who had become her protectors without her ever asking.
The cold night air hit her like a slap when they stepped outside.She sucked in a shaky breath.
Baddy didn't let go of her.He walked her to his motorcycle and stopped.
"Are you okay to ride?"He looked into her eyes."I could borrow the club's truck if—"
"I'm fine."She pressed her hands against his chest."I want to go.I don't want to be around them."
The ride to his house was quiet.The hum of the Harley.The echo of the wind.The blur of traffic.She stared at the white dotted line on the asphalt until it all blended into a single long line.
Her mind was a mess.Her mom's tears, Baker's face, the way the room had spun when the truth was thrown at her.
Her father was supposed to be someone her mom hooked up with once and then was killed in some street war before she was born.That's what her mom had told her.That's what she believed.
Now, all of a sudden, they expect her to believe Baker was her father and that her mom kept her from him?
When they arrived at the house, Baddy held her hand while she slid off the Harley and then guided her into the house.He didn't ask questions.Didn't push.Didn't try to fix anything.
She clung to him, knowing he was the only real thing in her life.The only person who wouldn't leave, lie, or hurt her.
Inside, he led her to the couch, pulled a blanket over her, and sat beside her, his thigh pressed against hers.
She leaned into him, exhausted, overwhelmed, and grateful for the one thing in her life that wasn't shifting beneath her feet.
Baddy wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest.
