Page 22 of Wade’s Wrath

“Harlow,” he said her name as though it was a warning.

She sighed. “I keep forgetting.”

“Forgetting what?” he asked.

“That I'm not supposed to care what he thinks anymore,” she said.

Wade turned the burner down. “You aren't supposed to care what he thinks, Harlow.”

“I know that, but for some reason, I can’t get it through my brain,” she admitted.

“It’s easy,” he said. “Just stop caring.”

She looked up at him as though he had lost his mind. “Wow. Why didn't I think of that?”

“Happy to help,” he teased.

“You should become a therapist,” she drawled.

“Thought about it,” he lied.

“Really?” she asked.

“Nope,” he breathed. Her mouth twitched, and Wade went back to the eggs.

“It's not that easy,” she said quietly. He knew that. He wasn't completely insensitive—mostly.

“Your whole life was wrapped around your father?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then unwrap it.” Harlow stared at him, and Wade shrugged. “One piece at a time.”

Her expression changed. “That's surprisingly insightful.”

“Don't tell anyone,” he griped.

“Would it ruin your reputation?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said.

He put bacon into the skillet, and Harlow watched him for a few minutes. Then she asked, “What happens today?” There it was. The question he'd known was coming.

“We're going to the clubhouse,” he said.

Her shoulders stiffened. “Why?”

“Butcher called church,” he said.

“What’s church?” she asked. Sometimes, Wade forgot that not everyone knew the ins and outs of an MC.

“It’s basically a club meeting,” he explained.

“And I have to go?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“I thought church was members only,” she said.