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I hide a smile as she blushes. “He’s in the main house.”
“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful because I’m not,” she says on a rush. “But w-whereabouts would I be staying?”
“I’ll know more when you’re ready to leave the hospital.” Cody points his thumb at the door. “You have a security detail just in case. Did you and Dana get along?”
“I guess. It’s every woman for herself in the MC,” she mumbles.
“Really?” My eyes widen at how very different it is to the Sinners. “There’s no sisterhood?”
She blinks. “No. Why would there be?”
Wow, that sucks.
Not all MCs are created equal, I suppose.
“Do you know her number?”
“It’s on my phone. I don’t know where that is though. I can access it on the cloud, I guess.”
Cody dips his chin. “If I talk to her, maybe she’ll give us a heads-up if things change with Filch and this Bracket guy takes over as Prez?—”
“She won’t rat out?—”
He lifts a hand. “I don’t expect her to. But for Paulie’s sake, Paulie who loved his baby sister, she can try to warn us if we need to move you urgently.
“In the meantime, you can concentrate on schoolwork. I’ll talk to the principal, ask her for any homeschool programs she might recommend for you, and we can at least get you to graduate.”
I can literally see his mind racing and I don’t think he’s ever been sexier to me—trying to help this poor kid who, through the postal code lottery of fate, had to endure a horrific childhood.
“You’re being so kind to me,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Paulie wouldn’t agree. He kept my ass safe. I can’t… He’s…” He pauses. “It’s my turn to keep you safe, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
It takes a while for that to settle in, for her to calm down, but when we talk about what’s going on with her injuries and how long she’s likely to be in the hospital, gradually, she relaxes.
By the time we’re leaving, she’s even smiling, which I take for the massive win it is.
On the way out of the hospital, I ask, “Do you trust her to be in the house with us?”
“I’m going to talk to Colt and Mrs. Abelman. Make sure the fam’s on board with the idea.”
“Did Colt do the same when he invited me to live with you?”
“No. But Colt’s not as thoughtful as I am,” he says wryly. “Plus, you’re a mad musician. She’s an MC brat?—”
“That’s discrimination!”
He arches a brow at me. “Can you seriously not see the difference?”
“I can, but it’s still not fair. She’s only an MC brat because she was born unlucky.”
“Perhaps, but everyone still deserves a say. I’ll explain her situation, and I’m sure they’ll take that into consideration. It’ll help that Callan knows her. She’s so young that I don’t want her on her own in a bunkhouse with a bunch of strangers, but I’ll respect their wishes and do what I can to help her acclimate if need be…”
Hearing the truth of that, hearing his fairness, hearing his kindness, I hum. It’s a lilting chord.
Happy.
More of a tweet than my ear’s comfortable with.