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9

RAVEN

“ I t’s heavy,” Fen complains as we try to shunt the dresser towards the hardware store.

“I know, but it’s free, and we can unpack a little.” At least, that’s what I thought when we walked through the neighborhood behind Main Street and found the dresser on the sidewalk with a sign saying, Take Me .

“It’s too heavy to get up the stairs.” His voice has that whine in it, the one that grates on the last nerve of any parent doing their best, making them really want to shake their child and ask them, for fuck’s sake, could they please just pull their weight.

No matter how unreasonable it would be.

I shake my head, searching for the patience to meet him with kindness. “We’ll take the drawers up one at a time, and that will make it so much lighter.”

One of the downsides of having kids is when you’re already feeling a little deflated yourself, you somehow have to make the prospect of lugging a supremely heavy set of drawers up the stairs sound like the most exciting thing.

I still plan to leave once I get my paycheck, and a part of me just wants to leave the damn dresser where it is and go home, but I owe Fen better. I owe him a loving and safe home that doesn’t feel temporary, even if it is.

A sleek black truck approaches us, and I recognize the size and shine of it immediately.

It belongs to Wraith.

The man who judges my every move, yet seemingly protects me.

The one who was mad I was walking Fen home in the rain but bought me soup so I’d feel better.

The one who braided my hair, even as he told me to stay out of trouble.

The one who always seems so damn mad at me, and yet…

His head turns as he drives by, and I know he sees me. I meet those eyes of his, the deep pools you’ll never see the bottom of. But neither of us acknowledges the other beyond that. No wave of recognition. No smile. Better if the man didn’t see me at all.

“Okay. Let’s make this a game,” I say to Fen. “See the bakery down the street there?”

His little nose screws up as he looks ahead for a second. “I see it.”

“If you can help me get it there without complaining, I’ll buy you a dessert for after dinner tonight.”

Fen claps his hands. “Can I get a doughnut?”

“If they have doughnuts, yes. If they don’t, you could maybe get a cookie or something.”

He puts his little shoulder against the dresser. “Let’s go, Momma. They might not have anything left by the time we get there.”

I could reassure him that it’s a bakery, open all day, and unlikely to run out of anything for a few hours. But I capitalize on his hustle.

“Lift, don’t push.”

We make it a few more feet, and even I feel tired.

I hear the truck pull up alongside us before I turn and see Wraith, face like thunder. His boots make a crunching sound when they land on the asphalt. “Where are you going with that?”

I look at the dresser, then at Wraith. “Hmm. Let me think. I saw a dresser on the road and said to Fen, ‘Why don’t we see how long it would take us to drag it the full length of Main Street for kicks?’”

Wraith folds his arms across his chest. I hate the way it makes his Henley-clad biceps pop and the way my body responds. “It was a simple question, Blue.”

“That already had an obvious answer. You saw my place. The dresser was free. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Fen a doughnut if we get it to the bakery without issue.”

Fen looks up at Wraith. “Does the bakery sell doughnuts, Wraith?”

Wraith looks down at my boy, and for a millisecond, I swear his features soften. “Pretty sure it does, kid.”

“Do you like doughnuts?”

“Love ‘em. Could eat a whole box of six of them in one sitting if I had to.”

“Six?” Fen’s eyes widen. He’s never been allowed more than one at a time. Six probably sounds like the kiddo version of heaven.

“Well, as lovely as this interaction was, we need to get going before it rains or something,” I say.

The three of us look up at the utterly cloudless blue sky.

“Yeah. I can see why you might think that’s gonna happen.” He walks to the dresser and pulls the first drawer out before depositing it into the bed of his truck. The muscles in his arms flex as he moves, and I really shouldn’t be paying attention to how wide his shoulders seem or how capable his hands are.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He huffs a laugh and starts to grab the second one. “Guess I’m not the only one capable of asking obvious questions.”

“I don’t need begrudging charity. I don’t need your help when it’s obvious you’d rather be anyplace other than here.”

Wraith tosses the second drawer into the back of the truck, then pauses to unfurl a ten-dollar bill and hand it to Fen. “Go with your mom and get that doughnut. I’ll drive the dresser over to your place and leave this in the doorway for when you’re done.”

Fen gleefully takes the bill from Wraith’s hand, then surprises both of us by reaching to throw his arms around Wraith’s waist. “Thank you for helping us. It was heavy.”

Wraith looks uncertain for a second, then pats the top of Fen’s head before messing Fen’s hair. “You’re welcome, kid. Guess you’re the only one in your family with manners.” He tips his chin in the direction of the bakery. “Go get yourself a doughnut too.”

I think about my husband. How everything was earned, had consequence, required repayment. Nothing was ever freely done. So, I take the money from Fen’s hand and pass it back to Wraith, ignoring the sad look in Fen’s eyes.

He holds his hands up. “Not taking that back.”

Maybe it’s because I’m tired, still recovering from being so sick, and exhausted from trying to lug the heavy furniture the mile to our home.

Or maybe I’m just overwhelmed by the memories of the life I used to have and the fear I have of repeating that mistake.

So, I step into Wraith’s space and fold the note before putting it into the pocket of his leather cut. “I can’t afford to owe you.”

Wraith reaches for me, as if to touch my cheek, but then quickly draws his hand away. “You don’t owe me shit.”

“Men always say that.”

The air between us vibrates with tension so strong I swear I could touch it. I need to leave, but I’m desperate to know what it would feel like if one of his large fingers brushed against my skin. What it would feel like if he placed a knuckle beneath my chin and kissed me tenderly.

Or roughly.

I think about the way he grabbed my lip and tugged me to him in the diner storeroom. About how he held me where he wanted me, and I didn’t fight it because a piece of me liked it.

His tongue runs over his lower lip, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am.

My breath catches, and while my brain is screaming at me to take a few steps back, to move out of his orbit, I could no sooner move than two opposing magnets placed next to each other could.

Wraith reaches out his hand toward Fen, but I notice his pinkie finger is hooked. “Hey, Fen. Come here and make a pinkie promise with me.”

“A what…?” I say. Which is ridiculous because I know what a pinkie promise is. I just don’t know why this intimidating biker is offering to make one with my son. “Wait.”

He crouches to eye level with Fen, his pinkie still raised. “You know what a pinkie promise is, kid?”

Fen nods enthusiastically, because unlike me, he seems happy to be around Wraith. “I do.”

“Well, I want to make a pinkie promise with you that you guys will never be expected to repay me for moving the dresser to your home.”

“Never?” Fen asks.

“Never. Not you. Or your mom.”

Fen offers his pinkie, tiny in size compared to Wraith’s. And Wraith shakes it gently. “You got a strong grip,” Wraith says kindly, and Fen soaks up the compliment.

His father always called him weak. Stupid. Pathetic. Berated him for his love of nature and the birds that used to come sit in the garden.

Despite my uncertainty about this man, his kindness to my son thaws some of the ice around my heart.

Wraith stands and looks at me. “Good enough?”

“You and I both know it’s not legally binding.”

Wraith smiles softly, then pulls the ten-dollar bill from his pocket before handing it to Fen. “A man’s only as good as his word. And my word is all I got. Go get Fen a doughnut. The dresser will be outside when you get home.”

I reach for Fen’s hand. “Thank you.”

Wraith tips his head once, then returns to removing the drawers and putting them in his truck.

Walking away is harder than I thought. For a moment, I pretend it’s the risk of someone else deciding to take the dresser from the sidewalk outside the apartment.

But I made a pact with myself when I left, that I wouldn’t lie to myself again.

I won’t ignore warning signs. Or try to convince myself unfixable things will be okay if I just do better or be better or love better.

So, I admit leaving Wraith is the difficulty.

It’s on brand for me that I’m attracted to dangerous, reckless men.

Who wouldn’t be attracted to a large man with wide shoulders and an I can do everything aura?

His truck drives by us just before we get to the bakery, but there is zero acknowledgement. He doesn’t honk his horn or offer a wave. He just looks straight ahead.

The bakery smells divine. All sugar and cinnamon and fresh bread. It’s comfort food wrapped up in sparkling cake cases and the hiss of a coffee machine.

“What would you like, Fen?”

He places his palms on the glass case to look inside.

“Don’t touch the glass, sweetie. Someone has to keep it clean,” I say.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” says the woman behind the counter. “We have one child who comes in and regularly licks it. Says it helps them choose. Their mom dies of embarrassment every time it happens, but we think it’s lovely, if a little gross, and always have to do a quick swipe with disinfectant when they leave.”

She’s probably the same age as me. Thirty, maybe. Her hair is a natural dark auburn. A line of piercings in one ear and a single stud in the other catches the light. And her beautiful tattoo sleeve incorporates mountains and flowers and lakes.

“I want that one, please,” Fen says loudly.

The woman chuckles. “A glazed doughnut. Good choice. You can’t beat the classics.”

She grabs a bag and slips it inside before handing it to Fen. “Anything else?”

The nutty aroma in here smells so good, I can’t resist. “I’ll take a cappuccino.”

“Are you the new girl who just started at the diner?” she asks while setting the espresso to drip before frothing the milk.

“I am. Raven.”

“Quinn,” she says as she wipes the spout of the milk steamer. “It’s nice to have some new faces in town. You should come join our book club.”

I can’t remember the last time I read a book. But making friends, if only for a short while, sounds like fun. “I’d love that.”

We make some small talk about the book club logistics, and I pay the bill, feeling something I haven’t felt in a long time.

A sense of belonging.

“Can I eat my doughnut now?” Fen asks when we leave the store.

“No, sweetie. I said it was for after dinner today. A treat.”

Fen sticks out his bottom lip. “I promise I’ll eat my dinner if I eat it now.”

I sip my coffee, realizing the hypocrisy of getting my treat now, while he has to wait for his, but hey, there have to be some perks to being the adult in this relationship. “Asked and answered, bud. You keep asking me and I’ll save it until after dinner tomorrow.”

He mimics zipping his lips and throwing away the key, and the gesture makes me laugh.

But the smile slips from my lips when we turn the corner of the hardware store and see not only the dresser, but a motorcycle, Smoke, one truck…

And Wraith.