Chapter Seven

ELIAS

I knew I was being paranoid. I shouldn't have even mentioned anything to Paige. I'd probably scared her and hadn't intended to do anything of the kind. I was actually a little bit worried about her. But as usual, I did a pretty shitty job of conveying that.

Jay's threats earlier had left me a little bit rattled, if I were being honest. And then Paige mentioning the biker outside my shop watching her had me concerned. But I hadn't found anything, and assumed it was probably just some random creep checking out a hot woman – and not anyone related to the MC.

That is exactly why I left the club to begin with though, and why I didn't appreciate being dragged back into their business. Because when you did business with the MC, you always had to watch your back – as well as the backs of anyone associated with you.

And I was done with that shit. I was done worrying if my daughter was going to grow up without her father. I was also done worrying about the safety of people who dared get close to me.

Not that Paige and I were close – which was why she was probably safe.

“Why isn't Ms. Cleary your type?” Harley asked as soon as we were in the car. “You both like art. And she's pretty.”

“Yeah, well, honey – we like different kinds of art,” I said. “She's a teacher and I'm a tattoo artist – two completely different things. And besides, I'm not really looking to date anyone right now anyway.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Is mommy coming back home?”

I cringed at my daughter's question. I honestly didn't know whether Amy would ever be a part of Harley's life or not. I did know, without a doubt, that Amy and I would never be a couple again. That ship had sailed and then burned. And I was better for it. Unlike her, I was clean and had absolutely zero desire to ever be around that lifestyle again.

In my opnions, two ex-junkies should never be together. Not only would they possibly feed each other's addictions and cravings, the temptation to step back into that lifestyle would always be too great.

And I had to look out for Harley. That was all that mattered to me.

“I'm sure you're mommy will be back to visit you soon,” I said. “Once she gets better.”

Harley remained quiet and the shadow of sadness crossed her face. I knew she missed Amy dearly, and it killed me that my little girl was growing up without a mother figure.

“I really like Ms. Cleary though,” Harley said. “If you do date anyone, I hope you date her. She's really nice.”

As cute as it was, my daughter playing matchmaker was just too much for me. I smiled at her, but did my best to drop the conversation. Or at least divert her in another direction.

Truth be told, I liked Paige. I liked her a lot. She was a beautiful woman – even if she was a little too goody two shoes for my liking. If my situation was different, hell, I'd probably take her out on a date or two.

I didn't see us going anywhere though, mainly because women like Paige typically didn't end up with guys like me. Not for long anyway. Guys like me were a distraction. A fun little diversion that made them feel like they were living on the edge.

They ended up with nice, clean-cut businessman or bankers or someone with lots of money. They lived in two story houses with picket fences and two and a half kids. And the truth of the matter was that even if I tried to clean up my act, I was never going to be that guy. I wasn't cut out for that life. I was doing the best I could, and even though at times I wasn't sure if that was good enough, I also knew that it had to be.

For Harley's sake. Because no matter what, my little girl would always come first.

Always.

ooo000ooo

“Got any homework?” I asked as soon as we stepped inside our apartment.

Harley groaned, which meant that yes, she did. She looked up at me, preparing to plead her case or try to cut a deal, but I just shook my head and smiled.

“Homework first,” I said. “Get it out of the way, then you can watch some TV.”

“Fine,” she sighed ever so melodramatically as she plopped herself down in a seat at the kitchen table.

My phone rang so I stepped into my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

It was Amy's mom. Reluctantly, I answered.

“Oh look who finally decided to pick up the phone,” she said sarcastically.

“Sorry, I've been busy,” I said, my tone dripping with contempt. “Being a single dad isn't easy, you know.”

“I'd been hoping that you'd call to check in,” she snapped back. “Don't you even care to know how Amy's doing?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said, sitting down on the edge my bed. “How is she?”

“Her counselors say she's doing well, that she's recovering at a nice, steady pace and should be able to be released into our care soon,” she said. “Which is why we need to talk.”

“About?”

“About Harley,” Mrs. Archer said. “Don't you think she'd be better off being close to her mom?”

I clenched my jaw. I should have known it was going to come to this. “Do I think she'd be better off staying with her junkie mom? No, I don't actually. I'm kind of funny like that.”

“She wouldn't be staying with Amy directly,” she said. “She'd be with us. Her grandparents.”

“Oh, you mean that man who molested Amy and the woman who let it happen?” I snapped. I shouldn't have snapped, but I couldn't help myself. “Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather my daughter not be anywhere near as fucked up as her mom. She's fine with me.”

I hung up the phone. There was no reason to even speak to those people. I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, I wanted updates about Amy, but I really, truly, hated them with ever fiber of my being. And to think they wanted to take my daughter away from me? Over my dead body.