It doesn’t make sense but I’ve been sad all day. I wish I knew a reason why. The truth is I’ve been tired ever since I woke up in my own bed this morning and Michael was gone. I forgot how great it felt to spend time with another person and not have to worry—to not be afraid. I don’t have work today, which means I need to be baking. That should be easy, except I burned the last two batches of cookies. At this rate, I’m going to go broke, instead of making money.

I’m peeling apples at the sink, lost in thought when I see the bike pass my house. I can’t tell who it is exactly, but I know that it isn’t Michael. My heart drums in my ears. I could delude myself into thinking this isn’t anything to worry about, but I know better. My hand goes to my stomach. No matter what, I need to protect Maggie. She’s all that matters. I walk to my utility room, grab the shotgun that I keep there. I make sure both barrels are loaded, and I hurry outside before whoever is outside can get a chance to come in. I learned a long time ago that you stand a better chance of surviving if you don’t allow yourself to be trapped. I can run outside. Inside the house, I can be cornered. What’s that old saying? The best defense is offense.

I have my gun aimed and the trigger ready to pull by the time the rider is off his bike. I breathe marginally better when I notice it’s not one of the Dwellers. That’s a good thing, but still I don’t know who this guy is. He turns to look at me, his eyes go to the gun and then back to my face.

“Hey there, darlin’. I’m looking for a big, beefy idiot covered in hair—goes by the name Beast. Wouldn’t happen to know where I can find him, would you?” he questions with an easy smile. He’s good looking, you can’t deny that with soft brown hair. He’s lean, tall, and perfectly groomed. He has on a club cut like Blade and the rest of the Dwellers used to wear. His hair is long too, like Michael’s, maybe even longer—but it’s pretty. On Michael, his hair looks almost animalistic. It’s unkempt, and sometimes I even wonder if he brushes it at all. Yet, it still looks good. On this man, you can tell he spends time on his hair. It looks amazing, but for me at least, nowhere near as appealing as Michael’s. This guy’s hair is prettier than mine.

“Does he know you?” I ask, not ready to tell him where Michael lives. What if this guy is here to cause trouble for him? I admit he looks pretty laid back, but who can tell with a man who pledges his life to a club? Michael says his club was different, but my experiences have jaded me to that possibility.

“He does. You could tell him Diesel is here to see him.”

“She doesn’t have to tell me anything,” Michael grumbles, coming out of the barn. He doesn’t look happy to see the man. Of course, I’ve not seen Michael happy to see anyone. “What are you doing here, fuck-wad?” Michael asks, and with that kind of greeting, I’m keeping my gun pointed at the guy.

“Think you might call off the skirt?” Diesel asks, looking over at me.

“I think I’d rather her shoot you. I thought I told Skull I didn’t want to see anyone. The point of me leaving the club was actually leaving the club.”

“Last time I checked motherfucker, I wasn’t part of your club, and I’m not here for them.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” Michael asks.

The man looks back at me, pointedly staring at the gun. Then, his eyes travel back to Michael as he folds his hands at his chest, leans back on his bike and waits.

“Hayden, put the gun down. This asshole isn’t worth the lead in the bullet,” he says, and I slowly bring the gun down.

“Just as sweet as ever I see,” the man jokes and Michael flips him off.

“I don’t want company,” Michael says again.

“Better get used to it. I’m not alone,” he says, Michael gives him a look and the man shrugs.

“Crusher and Dani are with me.”

“Motherfucker.”

“Does the heart good to feel so wanted,” the man says, looking over at me and winking.

I wait for a minute or two to see if Michael invites me to stay around. He doesn’t and for some reason that makes me more than a little sad, which is crazy. I don’t like being around people, Michael is the rare exception. He makes me smile and feel safe. He’s like Liese, Charlie, and to some extent Pastor Sturgill. People I don’t feel pressured around. People who I care about and trust. I mean, not that I care about Michael—other than as a friend. When the two men shake hands, I take that as my cue to leave. I turn and go back to the door. I’ve almost got it closed when Michael calls out.

“Hayden?” My head jerks up with a smile, and I swear I think I feel excitement. Is he going to invite me to join them? Maybe I could invite the two of them over for coffee. I made some puff pastries and they’re pretty good. I could give them some food while they talked. It’d be nice to have company while I worked in the kitchen. “Thanks for looking out for me,” Michael adds, dismissing me. I give him another smile, before I close the door. After shutting it, I lay my head against it as that feeling of disappointment hits me again. What is going on with me?