STELLA

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! I couldn’t believe I woke up late. Of all the mornings to sleep in, I chose this one. I made my way across the vast grassed area that was still damp from the morning dew. Damn it, I cursed myself. How was I going to get away with this? Surely, by now, half the guys would be up and ready to start the day.

I knew for a fact little Miss Shiloh would be up and at ’em. Her birthday was today. Gracious, that precious girl was four today. I had her present hiding in one of the top cupboards in the laundry room. I got it weeks ago and was proud of myself for stumbling across a T-shirt that said, ‘My dad is a gun-toting alpha. What’s your dad’s superpower?’ Even Mia was jealous she hadn’t thought of it—she was the queen of slogan tees. I also got Shiloh a few pink accessories for her room and her car seat.

Her cake from Darth was finished. It had taken some research, but I’d finally managed to get a picture reference for a children’s cake in the shape of a pink revolver.

At first, he had wanted a sniper rifle, but we talked and decided with everything that was going on with Rogue, it was best to play it safe and go with a cake in the shape of Shiloh’s replica gun. God, these men. Whatever happened to cakes in the shape of kittens and dolls?

I got to the back door and looked around for signs of anyone. I put my hand on the handle, but before I could turn it, the door swung open, and I was confronted with a very pissed off Creed.

And I do mean pissed off.

His eyes travelled over my face, and his jaw clenched. Creed very rarely smiled so I couldn’t tell you what it looked like. But he did growl, grunt, scowl, stare, snarl, and all of those sorts of things a lot. So when I said he looked pissed off, I knew what I was talking about.

“Good morning, blondie. Glad you could join us. Follow me, please.” He wasn’t asking me. The ‘please’ at the end was just manners rammed into him by his mother. I was almost positive he didn’t mean it.

Dropping my head in resignation, I followed Creed down the long service hallway, certain he was leading me to the unemployment line. Bugger it. Being bone-tired and sleeping like the dead had really come back to bite me on my slightly too-big-in-my-jeans arse.

My dread turned into curiosity when he led me through the main room and past the main door instead of leading me out of it. He was taking me towards the— Holy shit, no way. Ten steps later, I saw where we were going. The war room. Surely not! No one was allowed in there unless they held a patch. Shiloh was the one female who had ever been in there before.

Creed stood by the door and held it open for me, gesturing with his other hand for me to go in. Oh, shit, this was not a good ‘Welcome to the war room for the first time, Stella Hogan’ kind of a visit.

I was in trouble. With a capital T.

When I went in, the first person I saw was Charlotte, and she was standing next to Deck. His arms wrapped around her tightly, his hands rested on her flat belly—resting on their unborn child. Deck’s protective gesture didn’t go unnoticed by me. If there was one word to describe Deck Johnston, it would be protective.

Charlotte had tears in her eyes, and she was staring wide-eyed at my— Oh, shit! My lip and nose. Oh, God, the make-up would have all rubbed off in my sleep. No wonder Creed was scowling and clenching his jaw. My secret was completely out of the bag. All my hard work and I ruined everything with one ill-timed sleep-in. Rats.

“Oh, Stella, sweetie. I am so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. I could see she felt awful about this, but there was no need. Honestly, I didn’t blame her. I should never have asked her to keep things from Deck in the first place. Asking her to keep things from the club and Deck was unfair.

“Shush. It’s okay, Charlotte. I should never have asked you to keep this a secret in the first place,” I reassured her, not wanting any bad blood between the lady who had become my best friend and me.

“No, you should not have. You should have come to me.” The deep, booming voice came from the other side of the room.

I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see the face the voice belonged to… well, actually, that was a lie. I loved that face and would have liked very much to suck face with him again and again, but I didn’t think I should voice that desire right at that moment.

“Look at me, Stella.”

Nope, I don’t think so. I am quite happy standing here and looking at my damp shoes, thank you very much.

“Honey, look at me.” The endearment that turned my insides to mush had me raising my eyes to the man who held my heart, and what I saw took my breath away.

Vincent Booth, President of the Wounded Souls MC and the strongest man I knew, was standing there with tears in his eyes.

“Booth.” The whisper left my lips without me even realising I’d said it. I knew without looking in a mirror that my face was a mess. It normally was the first few days after a beating, and Booth’s beautiful grey eyes were looking their fill. I didn’t recognise every one of the emotions that passed over his handsome face, but one that I did was guilt. I couldn’t allow that. I would not let this beautiful man take on one ounce of blame for my weakness when it came to my stepfamily.

Quickly, I moved past Charlotte and reached out to give her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze as I went. She also would not be taking on any guilt because of me. Her friendship meant more to me than she could possibly know. Her loyalty was without question.

Reaching Booth, I rose to my tiptoes and placed my hands on either side of his face. His stubbled cheeks felt wonderful. Just being able to touch him took away any pain from my injuries.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare. It’s my fault, not Charlotte’s, not Rainn’s, and not yours. I chose to say nothing, hiding and keeping secrets. Please, don’t take any of this and make it yours. Please, handsome,” I begged as I stared into his eyes, his burden about Rogue far too big for me to add to it.

“Can we have a minute alone, please?” Booth asked the others in the room, his eyes never leaving mine. I heard the noise of people leaving, but I didn’t bother to look. My eyes were glued to Booth’s eyes.

The door closed softly, and then I was engulfed in Booth’s arms. His embrace was tight, but it didn’t hurt. His face was buried in my neck, and oh, God, I wanted to stay like that forever. Quickly, I wound my arms under his and held on just as tight.