Page 36 of Heart of Stone

“Hmm.” Hawk makes a non-committal sound.

I take another bite, chewing even slower as my brain races.

Maybe there’s a cheap motel around somewhere. But where would I take the kids during the day? There’s nothing close by. I could move them back to my apartment, but I have to be out of my place by next week, and I already organized movers to store my stuff until I can find us a better place.

Which leaves me screwed. I’d still have to figure out somewhere to live unless I want to sign a twelve-month lease on a one-bedroom apartment.

Not happening.

Panic starts to claw its way up my throat as I feel the walls of my carefully constructed life crumble around me.

I set the sandwich back down with shaking hands, my stomach clenching with panic. My mouth tastes like sawdust and I swallow, drying to draw moisture in.

This isn’t good. We’re going to be homeless. We’ll have to live in a borrowed car. CPS will take them. I’ll be branded and unfit?—

“Stay.” Hawk’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.

I jerk upright. “What?”

“Stay. At the clubhouse. Until this gets sorted.”

“I can’t?—”

“You can and you will.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “The kids are settled. Steel’s apparently been promoted to personal fairy. And Ginger’s…” He pauses. “…well, Ginger’s Ginger.”

“That’s what worries me,” I mutter. I left the twins braiding Steel’s hair while Ginger supervised, baby Adam happily drooling on her shoulder. She’s a great person and it would be far too easy to become reliant on her for support.

I knew better than to look to others for help—no matter how nice they seemed.

"Look," Hawk leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "Something's not right with this situation."

"You think?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

His expression darkens. “Fuck it. You’re not the only one impacted by this.”

My eyebrows rise. "What do you mean?"

He hesitates. "Let’s just say you’re not the first person to experience this bullshit."

I wait, frowning when he doesn’t continue. "You want to elaborate?"

"No."

I crumple the wrapper from my sandwich. "Right. Mysterious biker business."

"Andi—"

"It's fine." I stand, brushing crumbs from my coveralls, my appetite gone. "I appreciate the offer to stay, but?—"

"But nothing." He rises too, crowding my space. "You're staying. End of discussion."

"You can't just?—"

"I can and I am." His eyes hold mine. "Unless you want to explain to those kids why they have to leave a home for—what are you thinking? A motel? A tent?"

Low blow. And far too close to the truth.

It rankles that he has something over me.