Page 30 of Wade’s Wrath

She looked offended. “I'm not falling apart.”

“You climbed out a bathroom window in a wedding dress, got chased across a parking lot, drove half the night, had armed men follow you to my bar, and found out this morning that they're still looking for you.” He paused. “Pretty sure you're allowed to fall apart a little.” Her eyes became suspiciously shiny, and Wade pointed at her. “I thought that we already talked about you not crying,” he reminded.

She frowned. “I'm not crying.”

“You're thinking about it,” he insisted.

“You can't tell me not to cry,” she said.

“I don't know what to do when women cry,” he admitted. “So, I’d rather you try not to.”

Her lips twitched. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” he said.

“What do you usually do when women cry around you?” she asked.

“Leave.” That earned him a laugh—mission accomplished.

Wade opened his door. “Come on.” He walked around the truck, and Harlow was already climbing out when he reached her. Her gaze swept over the clubhouse again as Wade stood beside her. He was close enough that she could reach for him if she needed to, but he wasn’t touching her without her permission. She'd decide if and when she wanted that from him.

They'd barely made it ten feet when the clubhouse door opened, and Butcher stepped outside. His gaze landed on Harlow and then Wade. He noticed the shopping bags in the back of the truck, and the son of a bitch smiled.

“Not a fucking word,” Wade said, pointing at him.

Butcher held up both hands. “Didn't say anything.”

“You were about to,” Wade assessed.

Harlow looked between them. “What did he almost say?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Wade said.

Butcher's smile widened. “Definitely nothing.” Wade contemplated punching his Prez, but decided against it.

“Church has started,” Butcher said. “We're waiting for you.” Harlow's nervousness returned immediately, and Wade noticed. Butcher did too, and his teasing disappeared. “No one's gonna hurt you in there,” Butcher told her.

Harlow nodded. “I know.” But Wade wasn't convinced she did. They followed Butcher inside.

The clubhouse was quieter than usual. A few women sat near the bar, while brothers who weren't needed in church kept their distance. Wade appreciated that. Harlow had enough eyes on her already.

They reached the hallway leading to the church room, and she stopped. Wade turned and noticed that her face had gone pale.

“Harlow?” he said.

“I need a second,” she insisted. Butcher continued down the hall, giving them privacy, and Wade waited with her. She took a slow breath, and then another. “I hate rooms like this.”

“Rooms like what?” he asked, not sure that he understood.

“Rooms full of men deciding my future,” she whispered to him.

Fuck. Wade stepped closer to her. “This isn't that.”

“It feels like it,” she said.

“Nobody in there gets to decide shit for you,” he insisted.

“Then why am I here?” she asked.