“Did you realize how noisy the clubhouse was?”
“Until last night?” Keys shook his head. “Nah. It’s super quiet here, isn’t it?” He cleared his throat, and his voice was a little shaky as he asked, “Think we’ll be living here?”
I blinked at him. “Would you mind?”
“No.”
“Would you want to live here?” I peppered.
“Yeah. I guess.” He stared out at the open space, and murmured, “We’d need a bigger bed though. I’m not sleeping—”
I pressed a hand to his knee. “I want you with me too.”
His eyes were troubled, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen from him before as he turned to me and inquired, “Really?”
“Really,” I replied, my tone staunch and blunt, forceful because I needed him to know I wasn’t stringing him along, and that I didn’t just want to sleep with Ink. I wanted Saint and Keys to have access to every part of my life.
Last night, sure, I’d woken up with a nightmare. But when they’d trudged in and slept at my side?
I’d felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.
All three of my warriors, my guardians, in the same place. Aaron hadn’t stood a chance.
“Do you know where I sleep at home?”
He cocked a brow. “Yeah, I know, I’ve been in there. Remember?”
“Nope. You don’t know.” My smile turned sad. “I never sleep in bed. Ever. Not alone.”
“Then, where?”
“Under it. I have a sleeping bag under there—”
“Fuck, Ama, fuck,” he breathed, twisting around so he could look at me. “You slay me, baby girl. Do you know that?”
“I’m weak,” I countered, staring down at my knees. “I’m what my daddy accused me of this morning.” Knowing he hadn’t been around to hear the conversation, I whispered, “He said I’m fragile.” I stared around the sun-dappled garden, the lawn like velvet, tempting one to forget the fact that fire ants were probably crawling through the grass, and murmured, “I said I wasn’t but maybe I am.”
“You’re a survivor. You do what you need to in order to get by, and that’s what you’ve been doing all this time—surviving. But we’re going to change that. We’re going to live.”
My lips twitched. “How?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but we will. I promise you.” He leaned over and grabbed my chin. “I’ll do anything for you, Ama, don’t you forget that.”
Leaning into him, I pressed my forehead against his and whispered, “I won’t.”
“Ew. Keys, don’t you know she’s got cooties?” Matty squealed in disgust.
Keys rocked his forehead on mine so he could turn to the side and stare at my brothers—the ones Daddy Flame called ‘little bleeders.’ “These are the kind of cooties I’m okay with catching.”
Matty’s face puckered, and when Seamus heard that, his features crumpled too.
“Huh, guess that means no story at bedtime if you don’t want to catch cooties from me. They jump, you know?” I teased.
Though Matty’s eyes were wide with disgust, he shook his head. “No. We neeeeeeeeeeed your stories, Lilis. I can’t sleep without them. You tell the best stories.”
I smiled at the name he called me. For some reason, Ama wasn’t good enough for me, and instead, he used the name he’d chosen when he was a baby and couldn’t sound it out.
Keys shook his head, his features mournful. “I think it’s too late for you guys anyway.”
Seamus chimed in, “Huh? Too late?”
“Think you’re already infected.” He shrugged. “You’ve been around her too much.”
I elbowed him in the side. “I’m not chlamydia,” I grumbled.
“What’s that?”
Keys’ eyes were bright as he asked, “Yeah, Lilis, what’s chlamydia?”
“It’s like cooties. But worse,” I told my brothers. “I think Keys might be right about the infection, but you’re not sick, are you? When you touch me, you don’t break out in hives?”
“Are those the—”
“Symptoms of cooties? Yep.” I beckoned him over, and he eyed me warily but stepped nearer. Grabbing his arm, I twisted it left and right and said, “All clear. Except for mosquito bites.” I squeezed his dirty, sweaty little hand and shook my head at him when he squealed as I tickled him.
Keys joined in and the sounds of childish glee were so far from what we’d been talking about that I found I was relieved by it. I needed a break from talking about the past, which had been raked up since it was tied with my need for the three men who kept me on an even keel. I needed a break from the MC and talk of Kenzie who, after barely any time at all, sounded like she was causing mischief again.
This playtime with my bros was exactly what I needed.
❖
Saint
The next day
“Lawrence, are you baking?”
I twisted around, my wrists up to my forearms coated in flour, butter, and eggs, so I could scowl at her. Sure, she looked pretty all mussed up after a restless night’s sleep, but Lawrence? What the hell?
“Don’t mess with me,” she grumbled, stepping over to peer at the mixing bowl. “You can’t mess with my stomach. I’ll get hangry.”
That had me laughing, but I still groused, “Since when do you call me Lawrence?”
I hated that fucking name. My bitch mom had picked it, and it had to be the least biker name out there. The only thing that potentially beat it was Timothy—hated that name too.
Like a dog, she sniffed the batter then rumbled, “Since you started rocking my mornings with baking.”
I’d prefer to rock her world in other ways, but until that could happen, I’d take my frustrations out on the dough I was thumping.
She dipped her finger in the cinnamon sugar I’d made and sucked on the tip before she did the damnedest thing—she stepped behind me and slipped her arms around my waist. Then, Ama made shit a thousand times better, enough for me to forgive her calling me by my real goddamn name, by sliding her hands under my cut and tee, and pressing skin against skin.
Now, don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t the first time we’d touched, but hell, this shit was more intimate than I’d ever imagined. It made things seem real, and for a man who’d always calculated real as how many times he’d fucked, shit was hitting home in my head just how this thing with Ama was going to be.
“Why did you tense up?” she mumbled, pressing her face between my shoulder blades. I definitely got the impression her eyes were closed and she was fighting sleep, a notion that had my lips twitching.
“Not tense,” I countered.
“Feel like it,” she groused. “Why?”
“Just thinking that I’ve never done this before.” And I hadn’t. Not just with her, but with every woman in my life. Well, save for Dorie, my stepma.
“Oh.” She fell silent. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Good.” The breath she released was shaky, and her arms tightened around my waist as she clung to me. “Why are you baking?”