“It does make me feel a little better that you’ll not only be close to the clubhouse, but also to my place.”
Her smile grows as she nods before her gaze darts away shyly, “Yeah, um, that’s why I like this place, too. I, um, I already walked it, it’s five minutes in each direction. That makes me feel better.”
“I’m sure Chewy and her brothers will have plans for security systems too,” I add. They fucking better. There is no way I’m letting Joy and Kit out of my sight without knowing that they’re safe and sound. “I’m gonna take a quick look at the yard.” I hook my thumb over my shoulder and wait for Joy’s nod before I spin on my heel to head out the kitchen door, leaving Joy to walk the rest of the house. I need air and to have a word with myself.
If I want to let Joy do her thing, I need to chill out. Not say one thing and then think of a million ways to worry about her orinsert myself into her life. I know it’s going to be hard, but the pep talk the MC gave me, which was pretty much “back the fuck off for fuck’s sake” keeps ringing in my ears.
“Friends. All Joy needs right now is friends. Not a big, hulking fucking ginger all up in her business.”
“I think you’re more of a strawberry blonde myself.” My head snaps to the side to be met by the assessing gaze of a woman with too many floaty clothes on. The kind Stevie Nicks kinda wears. “Can I ask you to turn around please?”
“What for?” I ask, brows pulled low.
“I need to see your patch, so I know whether to smile or pull my gun,” the witchy woman says, leaning on the fence post between her property and the one Joy is thinking of buying. Fucking Chewy handing over all that cash. Ugh, simmer down man.
I run a hand down my face, turning and showing the woman my back. “Devil’s Rose MC. Our clubhouse is-”
“Just down the road. You had the poker run about a month back,” she answers. “You can turn back now.”
“So, you live there?”
“You attached to the cute little redhead inside?” She asks, not answering my question. She’s got balls, I’ll give her that.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
Her eyes dance around my face, a smile curling at the corners of her lips. “Friends. Got it.” Her gaze moves to the kitchen window behind me. “I spoke to her the other day when she looked at the property. She’s a sweet thing but I can tell she’s been through some shit.” I straighten at that. “Tell her if she moves in I’ll have her back. Gals like us have to stick together.” I open my mouth as she turns to walk into her home, “Name’s Willa Malone. I’m sure your club will look me up.” With that she shuts her door with a quiet snick.
“Oh, did you meet Willa?” Joy’s voice calls from behind me as she makes her way down the back porch steps. “She’s really lovely, I met her the other day.”
“She seems like a cool chick.”
Joy’s gaze darts to mine before darting away again, her fingers picking at her thumb again. It’s a tell. Even though she’s a fuck ton more confident than the woman who was brought into my ER that night, there are still facets of the abused woman lurking the in the background. You don’t survive a fucking decade of abuse to come out the otherside unscathed. So, as Joy stands there contemplating whether to tell me what's on her mind or not, I step a little closer, place my hands on her shoulders, breathing gently, waiting for her breath to sync with mine.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, babe. You know that. Now, you were saying something?” My thumbs gently rub at Joy’s shoulders and I will them to stop, moving my hands and letting them hang at my sides. That’s all the Joy I’m allowed for now.
“Yeah, it’s going to sound silly -”
“As silly as the shit Rider comes up with?”
Joy chuckles. “Well, maybe not that silly. But, um, I think the reason I like the house is because I like Willa.” Her big brown eyes meet mine before darting away, “She makes me feel safe. Just like you and the club do.”
“You trusted your gut to get you this far, I’m sure you can trust it a little more to make this next step.”
Even if it’s without me. For now, anyway.
Joy
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I really can’t. I’ve signed on a house. Myownhome. One for me and my little girl where no one can hurt us. Where we won't have to know where all the exits are and if the wardrobes are big enough for us to fit inside. It seems surreal that after a decade of being a punching bag that I am now two steps away from walking into my own place. My sanctuary.
“So, are you going to let us in or…?”
Chewy’s words snap me out of my thoughts and I turn to be met with the full force of the DRMC. The Ol Ladies have arms full of cushions and soft furnishings while the men have their bikes and a moving truck full of the things that me and Kit wanted to keep from our old home. There wasn’t a lot, mainly toys, clothing and keepsakes. Everything else in the house belonged to Travis. The furnishings he chose with no mind to whether I liked it or if it was practical for a baby. And now I have my own place I can fill it with things I choose.
“Sooooo?”
“Oh, sorry, Chewy, lemme just unlock the door.” I fumble with the keys, a little flustered and overwhelmed by the big feelings I’m having. It’s something my therapist says is completely normal after spending so long just surviving.
