“Mom, mom,” Easton’s voice calls. I open my eyes and jump slightly. His nose is almost touching my own as he stares at me. “Mom,” he whisper-shouts, then giggles.

“Good morning, sweet boy,” I murmur. Sitting up, I reach down for him and drag him onto the bed with me.

I came home too late last night. I should have been home around eleven, but Gracie didn’t drop me off until after two in the morning. Now it’s six and with only four hours of sleep, I’m going to have to wake up and get on with the day. Easton doesn’t understand sleeping in quite yet. He’s an early riser, and refuses his afternoon naps, no matter what.

“Are you hungry?” I ask before I yawn.

He curls up next to me, nuzzling his little face in my neck but doesn’t say anything. I don’t mind it, I have a feeling he won’t always be so cuddly. We stay in each other’s arms for a few minutes, then he scrambles down off of the bed and yells for food.

I slip out of bed with a smile, grabbing a hairband from my nightstand as I make my way toward my tiny kitchen. I pull my hair out of my face and put it up in a messy knot before I start rummaging through the cabinets for all of the ingredients to make Easton his favorite breakfast, pancakes.

“Cancakes,” he cries as soon as he watches me pull out the griddle.

With a smile, I nod and take my mixing bowl out. It doesn’t take me long to whip up the pancakes. I add vanilla and a little brown sugar to the batter for taste. Just as I’m getting ready to pour the first ones onto the hot griddle, there’s a knock on the front door.

Easton doesn’t even hear it, he’s consumed by his morning cartoon. Wiping my hands on a towel, I make my way to the door and look through the peephole. My breath hitches at who is on the other side. I halfway expected it to be Baby, but it isn’t.

It’s Crooner.

Slowly, I open the door. “Can I help you, Ward?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice in an even tone.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his voice gentle.

I look down at my feet, then up into his eyes. “Sure. I’m making pancakes, do you want any?” I sigh, stepping to the side.

I don’t wait for him to answer, I make my way back into the kitchen and continue cooking. “Yeah, that would be great.”

Nervously, I continue to make breakfast. I want to ask him why he’s here, or what he wants, but I don’t. In fact, I don’t even make eye contact with him as I flip the cakes, then plate them. I start to doctor Easton’s up, but Crooner gently tugs his plate away from me.

My eyes lift and meet his. “I’ll make his, you finish what you’re doing. He does butter and syrup, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I breathe.

I stare in awe for a second, then go back to my task. When I’m finished, Crooner calls Easton to the table. I watch as he effortlessly picks him up and sets him in his highchair, placing the plate on his tray with his kid fork.

Then, I stare a little longer when he takes my plate, and his to the table. He sits down and looks over at me as if waiting for me to join him. I hurry over, but I’m in a complete daze. I shift from side to side in my seat while I watch him slather his pancakes in butter, then pour an insane amount of syrup on them.

“Babe,” he grunts.

My eyes lift to his. “You’re going to be a diabetic if you eat like that,” I snap.

He grins, giving me a wink. “I’ll work it off, don’t worry about me.”

“Why are you here?” I blurt out.

He uses his fork to cut his cakes and stabs the top one but doesn’t lift it. Instead, his eyes meet mine. They’re so dark blue, they glitter when the sunlight catches them, and it makes my heart skip a beat inside of my chest.

“I don’t know,” he says.

His answer isn’t what I expect, and it isn’t what I want to hear, but I don’t push him or demand more from him. I like that he’s here at my place, sitting at my table again. It feels like it was a lifetime ago where he practically lived here. We spent every waking moment together, and then when the threat on our lives was gone, so was he.

I start to eat, unsure of what else to say. He came here, to my place, so I figure he should be the one to speak. Easton breaks up the silence by making humming sounds with each bite he takes, obviously enjoying his favorite breakfast food.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Crooner finally says.

I press my lips together and look into his dark blue gaze. “Which part?” I ask.

He clears his throat, leaning back in his chair slightly. “All of it. You had every right to be there. I shouldn’t have acted like you didn’t. I’m sorry for Jizzy, and what I did in front of you. It wasn’t nice and I’m a fucking asshole for it.”

I blink, then turn my nose up. “Jizzy?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Nickname. I don’t know her real name,” he shrugs.

It doesn’t surprise me, that he doesn’t know a whore’s real name, none of them ever do. What does surprise me is that he’s apologizing to me, at all let alone for his own actions. He doesn’t have to, the rules of the club are pretty plain, and he can do as he wishes, especially at the clubhouse.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I say.

He shakes his head, lifting his hand and runs his fingers through his long hair. I watch, wishing that I could touch his long curls. When he was unconscious from his gunshot wounds, I ran my fingers through his hair a million times. I love how thick it is, and how it curls naturally.

“I want to be the right man for you, Hayden. Deep down, I want that more than anything, but the sad reality is that I’m not,” he explains.

My heart pounds in my chest, it’s so loud that I can hardly hear anything else around me. My eyes are glued to his, and I find it hard to even breathe. He wants me, he’s admitting it, even if he’s saying that it can’t happen, I’m not alone in my attraction and that feels, overwhelming.

“Why aren’t you the right man for me?” I croak.

I need to know why. I feel like I deserve to know why. If he tells me it’s solely because of age, I’ll scream. He clears his throat, looking down at his plate then back up at me. “I’m not a good man for you and Easton. You deserve someone who is good, and it’s not me.”

“Good,” I repeat, not liking the way the word tastes on my tongue. “I didn’t think there were really any good people in our world, Ward?”

He chuckles, his eyes dancing as they meet mine. “Baby is mostly good,” he rasps.

I press my lips together again, rolling them a few times to keep from screaming in his face. “Baby isn’t who I want. Baby isn’t who helped me with Easton when I was scared and alone and didn’t know what I was doing. Baby isn’t who I held in my arms while he bled out. Baby isn’t you,” I say as tears fill my eyes.

Crooner nods. “I know, Hayden. Nobody else is you, either. I’m not the right one for you, though.”

Reaching for him, I wrap my fingers around his forearm and squeeze. “If you really feel that way then you need to go. You need to stay away from me, from us. Because I fell in love with you, Ward Bouchard. I fell in love hard, and I’m not sure I can just turn that off. But, I know that I won’t be able to if you keep coming around, if you keep showing up like this, and keep watching me,” I whisper through trembling lips.

He stands, without saying a single word, and walks out of my trailer. I glance down at his plate and notice that half of his pancakes are still there. That sight is what finally causes my tears to fall.

Fuck him.

The fucking asshole.

I cry, silently of course, so I don’t upset Easton. When I hear his motorcycle engine rev, and then fade away, I cry a little harder. Whatever we had, it’s over before it ever truly began, and it makes me sad. I don’t eat, I can’t, so I clean up then get Easton cleaned and dressed for the day. I need to do laundry and pick up around the house. Maybe that will be enough to keep my mind off of everything that’s just happened, not likely, but maybe.

I walked away from her without a single word. She told me I needed to go, and the way she said it with hurt shining in her eyes, I knew I had to. Being around her, it was hurting her. Although, I shouldn’t be surprised because it’s been killing me.

I belly up to the bar, lifting my chin to the new prospect. He hands me a bottle of beer and I quickly take a pull.

“It’s eight in the morning,” a voice deadpans next to me.

Glancing to the side, I see that it’s Motorhead. “Where’s Esme?” I ask, ignoring his comment.

“Asleep in bed. I wore her out after we partied,” he grins. “Coffee,” he grunts to the prospect.

“You look like hell,” Motorhead grumbles as soon as he takes a sip of coffee.

I chuckle, looking at my beer, then back at him. “I feel like hell. I’m ready to head up north though.”

“Yeah? You sure you don’t want to stay here with Hayden? Saw Baby getting chummy with her last night,” he says.

I shake my head. “I went to her place this morning. Whatever we had before, it’s done. Baby will be good for her, and to her,” I state.

Every single fucking word makes my stomach twist. I hate saying it, and all I want to do is get on my bike and go back to her place. I want to take her in my arms, kiss her, then fuck her to prove to her that she belongs with me, at my side, and with my name across her pretty chest.

Motorhead chuckles, taking another sip of his drink. “Brother, you are so full of shit.” I take a pull of my beer and wait for him to continue. “You want to keep thinking that Baby is better for her than you? Fine, fuck it, believe that shit,” he shrugs.

“But?”

“You’ll figure it out, I just hope to fuck it isn’t too late, for all three of your sakes. Baby’s a good kid, he doesn’t deserve to get his heart broke. That shit’s already written though.” I watch as he stands and starts to walk away from me, presumably toward his room where his woman is waiting for him. “We’re leaving in a week. Taking the van. Pack a fucking arsenal. I want these fuckers to fly they’re blown so goddamn high.”

Staying in my seat, I finish my beer, then I lift my empty, calling for another one, and I drink that one even faster than the first. When I’m halfway through my fourth beer, I watch as Baby walks through the bar. Jizzy and DD are on either side of him, and his arms are slung over their shoulders.

“Baby?” I growl.

He lifts his chin toward me. He brings his hands down and smacks each girl on the ass as he leaves their sides to come sit next to me at the bar.

“Goddamn, I haven’t been laid in a while. I needed that,” he announces, sitting down next to me.

I grip my bottle tightly, trying not to break it over his head. “What about, Hayden?”

He chuckles. “She’s into you, brother. Which is cool. I told her I’d wait for her, and I will. But I’m not going to be a goddamn celibate while I do.”

“I find out you don’t treat her right. I’m going to beat your fuckin’ ass,” I bark as I stand up.

Baby doesn’t even flinch. “My name’s on her body you won’t do a goddamn thing, and you know it. Don’t threaten me because you’re too much of a pussy to take what you want.”

I lunge for him, but something tugs me backward. An arm wraps around my chest and holds me hostage. Looking down, I recognize the tattoos as Free’s.

“Don’t be a dick, Baby,” Free growls.

Baby winks then turns around. He whistles before calling for DD and Jizzy and I watch the three of them disappear down the hallway.

“That little fuck,” I hiss. Free releases me and I turn around to face him. “He’s lucky you were there to stop me,” I snap.

“He saw me, which is the only reason he mouthed off. He’s testing you, seeing if Hayden is worth the trouble or if you’re going to come and swoop her out from underneath him.”

I shake my head. “I went to her this morning, and I walked away from her. She’s all his.”

The look of disappointment on Free’s face is more than I can handle. Hell, I’m disappointed in myself too. I want to be the man for her, but I don’t want to hurt her or damage her more than she already is. There’s a fine line, and Hayden has had too much thrown at her in too many short years.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Free mutters.

Turning my head toward the hallway where Baby just disappeared, then looking back at Free, I admit. “I have no fucking clue. I’m going to bring these fucks at this compound down, and then I’m going to have to figure it out. Because if that is the real Baby? Then I can’t let Hayden be with him.”

“Who’s better for her?” he asks, with a grin.

I shake my head, a smile on my own lips. “Nobody is good enough for Hayden. But if it’s between me, and that version of Baby, I’m claiming my woman,” I grunt.

Free breaks out into a huge smile. “Fuck yeah you will,” he says slapping my shoulder.

I want to be just as happy as he is, but I’m not, not yet at least. I leave in a week, and I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. Hayden and Baby could be happily in love by the time I get back. I frown. Maybe I should go back to her now, beg her to forgive me for being such a dick. I shake my head. No, Baby is just being a prick, he’ll be good to her.

Anybody who has a shot with Hayden would treasure it and do anything to keep it. Anybody but me, because I’m a goddamn asshole. I need to focus on the task at hand, on the compound and loading the van up with guns and ammo. Everything else will have to wait. If Baby wins her heart by the time I get back, then that’s what is meant to be.