Page 10 of Crow’s Haven (Savage Legion MC #15)

Sharon

I ’ve been staying with Crow for almost three weeks now. The boys are tucking into their breakfast, and across from them, Crow sips his coffee, half-awake but wearing that low-key smile he saves for easy-going weekend mornings.

I place the syrup bottle between the boys and step back, wiping my hands on a towel.

“You made the round kind again,” Scout says, reaching for the top pancake.

“They’re always round,” I tease, leaning on the counter.

“Yeah, but these are like... perfectly round,” he says, clearly surprised.

Crow grunts in agreement around a sip of coffee. “She’s got the magic touch.”

I roll my eyes and try not to preen.

Chase looks up from his syrup-pouring mission, eyes wide with sudden inspiration. “Hey! We forgot to ask her!”

Scout straightens. “Oh yeah! Sharon, you need a name.”

I blink, caught mid-thought. “A name? I thought I had one. You just used it.”

“A biker name,” Scout explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “For the club. That we’re gonna start one day.”

“Oh,” I say, a little taken aback. “So, you two are still going by those same club names.”

Chase is already shaking his head. “No. I’m Chainz, with a Z. And he’s Skull. Try to keep up.”

Crow snorts into his mug, but I can see the pride in his eyes as he glances at them. He doesn’t say much, just leans back a little in his chair, watching.

“Okay,” I say slowly, playing along. “What kind of names are we talking about?”

They launch into brainstorming mode immediately. I look from one to the other as they bounce ideas off each other.

Chase suggests, “Sarge! That’s a good one.”

Scout frowns. “No, she’s not mean enough.”

“How about Blaze?”

“Too fire-y. She’s more... calm.”

“What about... Tank?”

“Don’t be crazy. Tank will be pissed if she tries to take his name. Besides, she’s not that strong.”

They go back and forth while I pour myself a cup of coffee and settle in at the table beside Crow. He raises a brow, clearly amused. Truth be told, so am I.

“They’re very invested,” I whisper, partially covering my mouth with one hand.

He leans closer. “That means they like you.”

I glance across the table at them again.

Now, they’re almost arguing. I watch them run sticky fingers through their already messy hair.

As they talk over each other, I feel a strange ache settle in my chest. In the time I’ve lived with them these two kids are becoming a big part of my life.

And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that their dad was in my thoughts more often than not.

“Butterflies are boring,” Scout says suddenly, squinting at me.

I glance at Crow, then back at Scout. I’m not sure where this is going.

Chase tilts his head. “I like ladybugs.”

Scout claps his hands together once, sending bits of syrup flying. “That’s it! You’re like a ladybug.”

I pause, unsure how to respond.

“Ladybugs are cool,” Chase practically shouts. “They eat the bad bugs. They’re lucky. And they stay.”

I blink. “They stay?”

Scout nods, slower this time. “Yeah. Butterflies fly away. But ladybugs land on you and hang out.”

I can’t speak for a second. There’s a lump forming in my throat, and I press my palm flat against the table just to ground myself a bit. They named me ladybug because they want me to stay and not fly away like their mom.

Beside me, Crow’s head slowly turns to look at me.

There’s a flicker of warmth in his gaze.

He doesn’t say anything, but he sees that the name isn’t just cute or funny or another one of their games.

This is a gigantic step forward in them trusting me and wanting me in their lives.

It’s also the first time in a long time someone has wanted me.

Of course, they don’t know all the baggage I’m carrying.

Chase licks syrup off his thumb and grins, “Can we call you Ladybug? It’s a good name.”

I swallow hard and smile as I try to get my emotions under control. “Yeah. Of course you can. I love the nickname you chose.”

The boys cheer wildly, and Scout starts practicing how to say it with a deep voice like he’s introducing me at a club rally.

“This is Ladybug,” he growls in his best biker voice, “She cooks good food, reads us stories and she kicks ass.”

Crow chuckles, low and amused. Letting the curse word slide for once, he responds, “Sounds about right.”

***

Three more weeks fly by in the blink of an eye. Mid-August starts the school year and today is the first day of kindergarten.

I wake before the boys, slipping quietly downstairs to the kitchen.

I put on coffee first and grab the first mug and cup before sliding the glass pot neatly into place.

I pop open the lunchboxes I washed last night and sit them on the counter.

Scout’s is blue with a flaming skull printed on the lid.

Chase’s is red and scuffed from where he tried to race it down the driveway like a toy car.

I’m finishing filling their lunchboxes when I hear footsteps. I turn around just as Crow goes straight to the coffee pot and fills his favorite cup without a word. Once he’s had the first sip, he turns to me and jerks his chin towards the lunchboxes. “Did you figure out what to put in there?”

I nod, and pop one of the boxes open. “Yeah, I gave them all their favorites but stayed away from anything nut-related, in case they end up near a kid with a nut allergy.”

Crow raises his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have thought about nuts being a hazard.”

I snap the lunch box closed and sit it on the counter. “Yeah, well I’m a nurse, so I think of stuff like that.”

I realize what I said, just as Crow’s coffee cup freezes in midair at his chin. “Nurse?”

My brain scrambles to come up with a joke to cover my mistake. “Well, in your home I wear a lot of hats. I’m a chef, a domestic engineer, transport specialist, and occasionally a nurse.”

It works because Crow laughs. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

I take a step closer because he’s standing in front of me, looking like every inch the hot biker of my dreams. His hair’s a mess, still damp from the shower, and there’s a softness in his eyes that only shows up before he has to put on his emotional armor and go out to face the world.

I love this version of him. It’s the version I almost feel I could tell my secrets to. Tell him why I was running.

“You’re really handsome in the mornings. Do you know that?”

His sleepy expression turns interested. “I’m handsome all the time. You’re only paying attention in the morning when we’re making breakfast in close quarters.”

I smile up at him. “I think you might be onto something.”

“What you wanna start noticing how I look at night after my boys go to bed, Ladybug? Maybe we could spend some extra time getting to know each other.”

I laugh at that, since his kids started calling me Ladybug, he’s been using it as well. “From what I can see, you’re pretty much an open book. What you see is what you get.”

“You got that right. There ain’t no need to make simple things complicated.”

A small stern voice says, “Are you two gonna kiss?”

We fly apart at the speed of light and Crow takes another sip of his coffee. I spin around and see Scout standing in the doorway, with his arm folded over his chest. I can tell by the look on his face that he’s still expecting an answer.

“No, of course not,” I choke out.

Scout glances over his shoulder and shouts. “You’d best get down here, Chase. They were about to put their lips on each other.”

I wish the floor would open up and swallow me. Since it doesn’t, I grab some bacon and eggs out of the fridge and start cooking.

Within seconds Chase is standing by his brother with a curious expression on his face.

Before he can ask, Crow takes control of the situation. “We weren’t gonna kiss. But if we decide to, you’ll be the first to know. Until then, button it up and stop making Ladybug blush.”

The two of them giggle and we get them back on track with talk about their first day of school.

When we’re finally ready to go, the excitement ramps up another notch, for the boys anyway.

Crow rolls out the big Harley and double-checks that the sidecar is securely attached.

He’s already polished it once this week, made sure the extra seat belts are secure, so this tells me he’s obsessed with safety when it comes to his kids.

The boys race outside, the second they see the sidecar out of the garage.

They immediately begin arguing over each other about who gets to sit close to the motorcycle.

There are two small kid-sized bucket seats welded to the frame.

Crow solves the argument by picking up Scout and putting him in the coveted seat, while telling Chase, “You got prime seating the last time we went for a ride, Chase. It’s your brother’s turn. ”

Chase just climbs into the outside seat and lets his dad strap his harness down over his shoulders.

He’s got an adorable little pout but doesn’t talk back.

Crow makes sure both of their helmets are strapped down tight then tucks their knapsacks right behind their seats.

When he glances at me, I realize I’m staring when I should be warming my car up.

Crow and I agreed that we’d both take them to school the first day.

Taking a step back, I say, “Give me a second to grab my keys and I’ll follow you in my car.”

Crow’s hand goes back to pop open the back compartment on his motorcycle and he pulls out that helmet I recognize. “Nada, Ladybug. You’re riding with us.”

Chase grips the seat beside him and glances back at me. “Are you riding too, Ladybug?”

I give him a slow grin because riding on the back of his bike sounds amazing.

I nod and pull on the borrowed helmet Crow hands me. “Unless you’re too scaredy cat to ride on the back of my bike,” he says with a smirk, more for the boys’ benefit than ours.

Chase beams like I’ve just handed him a crown. “Don’t call her a scaredy cat. That’s mean.”