Easton runs toward me. I brace my legs for the impact that he’s sure to make and grunt when he throws his arms around my thighs. He’s strong. My auburn-haired, blue-eyed boy. I scoop him up in my arms and press my lips to his cheek.

“Did you have fun today?” I ask.

He smiles and places both of his palms on my cheeks, squishing them together. “Fun,” he cries.

I hold him a little closer and exhale. I missed him all day at work. I hate that I have to leave him with Gracie, but I know that it’s what’s best for both of us. I’ll never be able to provide for us if I don’t work.

There’s nobody else that’s going to take care of him but me. There will never be child support or anything like that, especially since I don’t want his biological father to know where we are.

“How was he today?” I ask Gracie as I walk over to his cubby to grab his things.

Gracie smiles, giving me a wink “The sweetest toddler I have. You know he was perfect, Hayden.”

I don’t doubt that he’s the sweetest toddler she has, my boy is all sweet sugar, however, I know that he’s not perfect. He’s stubborn, and when he doesn’t get what he wants, he throws a tantrum. The problem is, between Gracie, her daughter Lea, and Crooner, Easton is hardly ever told, no. He gets away with murder, and when I try to reprimand him, he gives me his big blue eyes, they fill with tears, and I give in—every damn time.

“I’ll see you Monday, then?” I call out.

Gracie frowns, tipping her head to the side. “You aren’t coming to the party at the clubhouse?” she asks.

I blink at her question. I hadn’t known there was a party happening this weekend. I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t have a sitter,” I shrug.

It isn’t a lie, I don’t. However, for whatever reason, I feel like I can’t tell her that I wasn’t invited. I don’t know why. Maybe I don’t want her to feel sorry for me. I’m tired of people feeling sorry for me.

“Lea will come over and stay at your place. Or you can bring Easton over here to spend the night. Let me know tomorrow what you decide,” she calls out.

She’s not giving me a choice and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I want to tell her no, but a bigger part of me wants to see what this party is about, and why Crooner didn’t tell me about it today while he was at the bar.

Smiling, I wave and tell her that I’ll text her in a little bit. She winks, then goes back to taking care of the other kids who are still in her charge. Easton and I hurry outside. It’s a nice day out, which I’m thankful for because I don’t have a car. Luckily, Gracie’s house and the bar aren’t too far away, so we can walk.

Easton and I are holding hands as we make our way closer to our little trailer. A year ago, when my father was after us, when the Aryans were still a giant looming threat we would have never walked from Gracie’s to home.

Crooner was our shadow, and I loved every second of it. I always felt so safe with him at our side. It’s been almost a year since then, and I miss him. I miss the friend that I found in him, and so much more. I still see him every day that I work. He always finds his way into the bar, but things aren’t the same between us.

I’m attracted to him still, however, he steers clear of me, to the point where he hardly even speaks to me anymore. When he was shot, I thought I was going to lose him and my heart shattered, it broke into a million pieces and I didn’t think I would ever recover. But he recovered and he’s perfectly normal and healthy. However, my heart isn’t healthy, it never mended, it’s still shattered but for a completely different reason now.

“Mama, I hunry,” Easton announces as our trailer comes into view.

I squeeze his hand a little tighter before I speak. “Okay, I’ll make dinner as soon as we get inside,” I say. He squeals and giggles with happiness and I can’t help but smile.

All thoughts of Crooner drift away the closer we get to the trailer. I’m able to avoid the bar’s parking lot by coming up from the side, we quickly slip into the trailer, and I lock the door behind us. I’m still a little paranoid, and I’m sure that feeling will never go away. It’s a feeling I was born into.

Locked doors have shielded me from pain a time or two. Even though they don’t always keep the bad guys out, they do give you time to escape or prepare for what’s going to happen next. I’ve spent my life preparing for what’s going to happen next. I somehow wasn’t born with that whole fight or flight thing. I only know how to survive. I wish I were stronger.

Once Easton is fed, I bathe him, read him a story, then tuck him into his small toddler bed. It’s a hand-me-down from one of the brothers, it looks like a racecar. Easton loves it, in fact, he would sit and play in his car bed all day every day if I let him.

“Goodnight, I love you,” I whisper as I brush my lips across his forehead.

“Lub you too, Mama,” he says sleepily.

Slipping from his room, I leave the door open a crack then go about cleaning up before I fall into bed myself. After spending all day long on my feet, then all evening taking care of Easton, I’m exhausted. I don’t mind being so tired, in fact, I kind of like it.

When my head hits the pillow and I immediately pass out, then I don’t have time to think. I don’t have time to think about Lucifer, Jack, Samuel Jones, or Crooner. I don’t have time to relive the past or cry about the life that I’ve led. I don’t have time to think about how lonely I am. Sleep is where I can just be.

I close down the trailer, making sure everything is locked up, and all of the blinds are closed. When I go to close the blinds in my room something catches my eyes.

My breath hitches when I see him.

Crooner is leaning against the brick wall at the back of the bar, his face is directed straight at me. I know that he can’t see me, I’m too far away, but I feel like he’s looking directly into my eyes.

Like a total creeper, I watch him. He turns his head and talks to Motorhead. I didn’t realize that he was right beside him. They’re deep in conversation, but Crooner’s face keeps turning back toward my trailer.

I want him to walk away from the bar, to stomp toward me and knock on my door. I imagine him kissing me and touching me with his rough, calloused fingers. I whimper as I press my thighs together to relieve the ache that’s now there from my overactive imagination.

Motorhead walks away, and then a few minutes later Crooner turns and follows him back inside of the bar. I let out the breath that I was holding, disappointed that my fantasy didn’t come true—again. I want Crooner, his kiss, and his touch like nothing I’ve ever wanted before.

I curse myself for being a stupid little girl, which is exactly what I’m sure he sees me as. I know that he’s in his thirties, and here I am almost nineteen, but to him, I might as well be twelve. I’m just a kid in his eyes, this kid he feels the need to protect. I highly doubt he’ll ever see me as a woman, let alone be attracted to me.

Taking myself to bed, I sigh as my head hits the pillow. One day a man will look at me as something other than a friend, or a body to get lost in. Someday a man will love me, me and Easton, together. We’re a package deal, and I have a feeling it’s going to be hard to find someone who wants us both.

I watch her walk into her little trailer, Easton close to her side. Taking a pull from my beer, I can’t take my eyes off of her. Not that I would even try. Her round ass disappears into the trailer and I grunt.

“You need to figure that shit out, right there,” Motorhead announces leaning next to me. We’re standing outside, leaning against the brick wall at the back of the bar.

I don’t bother turning to face him, I keep my eyes pointed directly at Hayden’s trailer. “Nothing to figure out. She’s an eighteen-year-old, survivor of abuse, and a mother.”

Motorhead snorts. “Brother, being an abuse survivor doesn’t make her dead or off limits. You like her, and I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Hell, we all saw her flip her shit when you were shot last year. Claim that girl, and do it before someone else does.”

“Who?” I growl.

Motorhead chuckles. “Baby has had his eye on her since the beginning. He ain’t a prospect anymore,” he shrugs.

I push off of the wall, taking another pull of my beer. “Baby ain’t doin’ shit,” I growl.

Motorhead shakes his head. “If it’s not him, it’ll be someone else. Believe that shit, Croon. You want that girl, you better stake your claim.”

“She deserves freedom, and to be left alone.”

I feel Motorhead’s hand clap down on my shoulder and he gives me a shake. Turning my head, I look over at him. “She doesn’t deserve to be lonely, Crooner. She deserves happiness, and I think you could give that to her.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond. His hand falls from my shoulder and he turns around and walks away, leaving me alone outside. My gaze drifts back to Hayden’s trailer and I watch. He’s not wrong. She does deserve happiness, but I don’t think that she’d find it with me.

I would do nothing but hurt her. I would want to possess her, own every single part of her. No way does she need that. Not after the hell she’s lived through. No, I’m going to stay away from little Hayden, no matter how hard my cock gets when I look at her.

No matter how much I crave her or need her. And no matter how much I love her son. I’m staying the fuck away from them, they deserve happiness and freedom. I would never let her be free. She’d be tethered to me, instantly.

Tossing my beer bottle into the trash, I grab ahold of the back door handle and make my way back inside of the bar. Motorhead and his woman, Esme, are playing pool but they look cozy, so I don’t bother them. I make my way up to the bar where Traci is serving up drinks.

“Hey, brother,” Free chuckles from his seat at the bar.

Slowly, I sink down next to him and lift my hand to Traci for another drink. “Hey,” I murmur back to Free.

“Patch-in party tomorrow night,” he grumbles.

I chuckle, taking the beer that Traci silently offers me. “Heard new snatch was being brought in for the night. Might not be all bad,” I shrug.

Free grunts. “Leaving Monday to try and find this compound again, now that the snow is melted,” he says changing the subject.

“I’m coming along,” I state.

Free shakes his head, his eyes lifting to me. “You’re not going to keep an eye on your girl?”

I try not to let it show, the way I like how he refers to Hayden as my girl. I shouldn’t want it, and I just explained to Motorhead why I don’t want it. Doesn’t mean that I don’t like thinking of her as mine, or when another brother thinks of her as mine. It means he won’t try to stick his dick in her.

“I want to find that compound as much as the next guy,” I rumble.

When Nurse Billingsly told us that there was a compound in northern Canada of a hundred men holding God knows how many women and children against their will, we decided we had to get them out. The Aryans are breeding them, like animals to procreate in order to raise an army of loyal soldiers. After all, who is more loyal than children you’ve raised and brainwashed from birth?

There are too many casualties of the Aryan’s fucked up bullshit. I’m ready to rid the planet of their filth, and although the Notorious Devils as a whole have put a good-sized dent in their numbers, we haven’t eradicated them quite yet.

“Just thought since you watch her every day, that you had a reason for keeping an eye on Hayden,” he shrugs taking a pull from his beer.

I do the same, buying myself a moment to think. “It’s just habit,” I lie.

He snorts, obviously not believing my lie, but he has the common courtesy not to call me on it. We don’t talk as we finish our beers. I don’t know what else to say to my vice president. I’ve already lied to him once tonight. He leaves a few minutes later with a grumbled, see ya, before he walks out of the bar.

I hang around for a few more minutes, then decide to go back to the clubhouse. Maybe DD or Jizzy will be available to relieve some of my tension. I’m looking forward to tomorrow night when I know that there are supposed to be some new girls brought in just for the party. It’s always nice to have some fun with someone different. Someone who preferably looks nothing like Hayden, with her pretty green eyes and auburn hair.

Straddling my bike, I bring it to life. I should turn right around and leave the bar, I don’t. Instead, I creep past Hayden’s trailer. Everything is dark, and I know she’s fast asleep. I used to sleep on the couch, every night, for months. I miss it.

Easton would wake up early and I would go and get him to give her a few more hours of sleep. I would feed him and turn on the television. We’d have our quiet morning together, every morning. I loved every fucking minute of it. I could easily imagine it happening for the rest of my life, adding more babies to the mix.

A life like that, it would be fucking priceless. I would kill for it. Too bad I’ll never get the opportunity. I was serious when I told Motorhead that Hayden needed her freedom. I don’t know if the girl has ever made a decision on her own in her life. She needs to find her strength, her power, and live her life the way she wants to.

What she doesn’t need is some controlling fucker like me who craves to mark her for the world to see, who wants to knock her up immediately, and keep her under his thumb. She doesn’t need me, a man who would have to know every goddamn move she makes before she makes it and requires permission.

I’m not the man for her, and knowing is half of the battle. Too bad my heart and my dick haven’t caught up quite yet. They both want her, need her, crave her.