Page 8 of Crow’s Haven (Savage Legion MC #15)

Crow

I smell cinnamon before I’m fully awake.

The scent is rich and warm, enticing me out of bed early.

The sound of soft footsteps and the occasional clang of a spoon against a metal bowl pulls me the rest of the way out of sleep.

For a second, I forget someone else is in the house and start to worry that my boys are up to no good. Then I remember Sharon.

I roll out of bed, tug on a shirt, and make my way to the kitchen with bare feet.

Sharon is standing at the stove. She’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt that swallows her small form and the sleeves are pushed up, revealing pale forearms already dusted with flour.

There’s a pan on one burner and a mixing bowl on the counter.

Looking around, I see an open carton of eggs, and a bag of chocolate chips sitting suspiciously close to the pancake batter.

She hears me approach and glances over her shoulder. “Good morning,” she says softly and clearly a bit unsure of herself.

I give her a curt nod and a lazy smile. “Smells like you’re bribing your way into our hearts.”

Her lips twitch at the corners like she’s fighting back a smile. “I thought I’d test some culinary limits.”

“Anything but candy is a breakfast food around this house,” I tease.

I get a cup of coffee and begin setting the table with dishes and flatware, then pour juice for the boys. About ten minutes later they come barreling into the kitchen like wild animals and climb into their seats. Scout’s hair is sticking out in every direction. He mumbles, “I’m starving.”

Before I can get turned around, Chase is already halfway through a monologue about his dream, involving a fire-breathing motorcycle.

Sharon’s got two plates already ready—plain pancakes for Scout, chocolate chip for Chase. I watch her sneak a few slices of banana onto Chase’s plate when he’s not looking. He doesn’t complain. Scout eyes his plate, then glances at mine like he’s checking for fairness.

“No stinking mommies would’ve given us chocolate chips without making us eat something green first,” he mutters as he pulls his plate closer.

“Scout,” I growl a warning low in my throat.

He shrugs and tears into his pancake. “Just sayin’.”

Sharon doesn’t react. She flips the next pancake with more confidence than the last. But I catch the way her expression blanks out for a second. She’s trying to earn her place, to prove she belongs.

Chase is already glued to her side. My boys have never really had a female role model before. I don’t date, and I’m not gonna bring my hook-ups anywhere near them. He reaches out to pat her arm as she pours syrup, telling her that she smells like food.

“Can we get a turtle?” he asks between bites.

Sharon looks to me, clearly unsure if that’s something she’s allowed to respond to.

“No turtles,” I tell Chase sternly. “The last thing we need is another creature to clean up after.”

I plant myself at the table, sipping my coffee, watching them fall into a groove. Sharon’s still a little guarded, but I can clearly see how she’s falling for Chase.

Scout’s giving the side eye. I think he sees her as an intruder in our home.

I give him space and the right to have his feelings. He’s allowed to guard his little brother and his territory. But I take a minute to explain the situation to him.

“Sharon’s not replacing anyone, Scout,” I say over the kitchen table. “We’re just adding one more person to our team. Besides, I thought you liked her, she helped you at Dr. Patch’s office.”

He shrugs. “We don’t need another person on our team, especially a girl. You always say us men have to stick together.”

I ruffle his hair. “You’re gonna show respect, give her a shot, and mind your manners. She’s a person, the same as us. You really wanna make her feel bad, do ya?”

He freezes in place, staring at me as he tries to process my words.

I tell him, “Women are people too. They have feelings that can be hurt. What if you were rude to her and made her cry?”

He doesn’t even answer. Instead, he jumps down and runs away from his half-eaten pancakes. I decide to give him a minute to deal with his emotions before going to him.

Sharon frowns at me. “I don’t think that was necessary.”

I rub my temple and grumble, “Don’t take it personal. I’m just teaching my boy he can’t run his mouth at women. Ain’t gonna stand for that from any son of mine.”

She gets up abruptly and leaves the table as well.

Chase catches me by surprise when he throws another one of my favorite sayings back at me. “You’re not making friends and winning people over today.”

“It’s influencing people, Chase,” I grumble.

“I’m still Throttle,” he says with a grin. A few minutes later, he shoves the last bite of pancake into his mouth and takes off.

Ten minutes later, Sharon comes back holding something.

I quickly realize it’s a handwritten note that Scout made for her, an apology note to be exact.

He didn’t run away because he was mad. He ran away to fix his mistake.

I probably went a step too far when I mentioned making her cry.

It says ‘Sorry’ in his six-year-old’s scrawl, and there’s a flower drawn after it.

“So, Scout apologized to you?”

She nods. “Yeah, he made it clear he doesn’t think you need another person on the team. But he doesn’t want me to feel bad or cry.”

“Maybe I’m crazy, but that feels like progress to me.”

***

Later in the evening, Sharon is sitting on the porch steps when I come out. She has her arms looped around her knees, watching the boys race around with slices of watermelon while playing in the yard.

I sit down beside her. “How are ya holding up? You look a bit bewildered. Regrettin’ taking on the job?”

She glances up at me. “No, I was just thinking,” she pauses. For a moment I think she’s gonna tell me who she’s running from, but instead she looks at my boys and smiles. “They’re more active than any kids I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how you manage to keep up with them.”

I draw my knees up and mirror her sitting position. “Who says I do? Sometimes I just have to let them run it off, especially after dinner. Letting them chase fireflies and have one final release of energy really helps them sleep.”

“Oh, thank God. I’ve been sitting here trying to calculate how many calories I’d need to take in to match their activity level.”

Grinning, I say, “What did you come up with? Something in the neighborhood of twenty thousand?”

She lets out a strangled laugh. “About that.”

“Nah, we’d spend all day eating just to keep up. Ain’t no life for folks like us.”

She smiles fondly at me. “You’re a really funny guy. Do you know that?”

“Glad you think so. Most folks just think I’m an asshole and hard to read.”

She shakes her head, smiling at me, as though she can’t quite believe that.

By the time the sun starts dipping below the trees my boys are sticky with watermelon juice and dirt.

“Bath time,” I call, jerking my chin for ‘em to head inside.

Predictably, Chase runs to Sharon, hiding behind her legs like I’m the big bad wolf. “I want Miss Sharon to help me.”

She freezes for a second, eyes darting to me for permission.

“Your call,” I say with a shrug. “Each kid’s got his own room, own bath. I leave ‘em to it, but I don’t trust ‘em running the water. I ain’t tossing you to the wolves unless you want it.”

“I’ve survived worse,” she says with a quick grin, before reaching down to ruffle Chase’s shaggy hair. “Alright, kiddo. Let’s de-funk you.”

Like always, he reminds her, “I’m still Throttle.”

We each take one of the boys and it goes a lot smoother than I expect. In fact it’s far easier when you’ve got another person helping to make sure your kids don’t flood the house.

By the time both boys are clean and in their pajamas, Sharon helps Chase pick out a picture book about a raccoon who hoards shiny things and stretches out beside him on the floor while I settle into the chair.

Scout isn’t far behind. He walks in and immediately climbs into my lap. For the twin that acts all big and tough, he needs his evening snuggles to wind down.

Sharon begins to read the book Chase picked, her voice soft and feminine. Chase scoots closer and closer until his hand finds hers and stays there.

Suddenly, Scout realizes what the book is about and jolts forward in my lap.

“No raccoon stories,” he declares.

“Let your brother enjoy his story. Then it will be your turn to pick a story.”

He settles back down on my chest, and we listen to Sharon finish the story. By the last page, he’s out cold.

I get up, set Scout aside and carry Chase to his bed, pulling the blanket over him. Sharon watches quietly from the doorway, her arms wrapped around her waist in a protective pose.

We go to Scout’s room, and he hands me his book.

“Okay,” I say. “You sure you want a monster book?”

He gives me a strange look and nods. That’s when I look down and realize it’s about a little monster and his mommy.

I freeze in place for a second before I open the book and start to read about how the monster mommy makes his breakfast, lays out his clothes, drives him to school and tucks him in at night—only there are about forty pages of things she does in between.

The book is meant to be humorous, but Scout doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t interrupt either.

When I finish, he mumbles something I almost miss. “She’s not bad. For a girl.”

I smile down at him. “I’ll let her know you’re a fan.”

“Don’t. It’s a secret.” He turns over, hiding the grin he thinks I can’t see.

I put him to bed, pull his blanket up over him and turn off the light. I always leave his door cracked the way he likes it. Sharon’s waiting in the hall, picking at the hem of her sleeve.

“Is Scout okay? Does he always climb into your lap?” she asks.

I nod, “Yeah, that’s as close to affection as it gets with him.”

I hold up the book he just had me read. She takes it from me and skims over the pages. “This is everything.”