She interrupts me. “I took care of the bill. Your friend Savage there always tips me well. He tips me too much. He’s a generous man, and any friend of his is somebody I’m gonna look out for.”
I still have no clue why she thinks Tank is Savage. I’ve been meaning to ask, but it never feels like the right time.
“I can’t let you do that,” I say, holding back tears. Aurora is fussing again, and she wants to get down and crawl. I eye the filthy carpet and think I might just have to let her do it.
“It’s done,” Val says, setting my things down in a corner of the diner entryway. “Now don’t think anotherthing of it. Just know that there are tough days for you, Mama, but that doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. Sometimes, these little ones just don’t know how to express everything they are going through.” She smiles at Aurora. “Big thoughts and big feelings, the desire to get moving and grow up already. You just have to love them as best you can through the hard moments. That’s all you can do.”
Her words break a little at the end, and I know she’s talking as much about herself as me. I want to ask if Val has kids and how old they are. I want to soak up any wisdom that she has to share, but then she nods, murmurs, “I’d better go take that break,” and turns and leaves.
Tank shows up about ten minutes after I text him. “She’s fussy today,” I warn him. “It’s probably a day for baby music.”
He groans, but we listen to happy, upbeat music that seems to settle Aurora at least a little all the way back to the compound.
By the endof the day, I’m exhausted and crabby myself. I haven’t seen Savage all day, and I plan on putting Aurora to bed, but moving the crib back to my room seems like a massive job to do alone. I feel like I’ve already imposed on people in the compound enough today.
Stella ran out to buy teething tablets for Aurora justin case she is feeling some pain in her little gums. Tank, of course, drove me around, and even Shadow checked in on me earlier, knocking on the door to see if he could get me anything.
Apparently, Aurora’s found her voice here with the Heat, because she was fussing so loudly, the bikers are probably completely over us being here.
Aurora seems exhausted by her normal bedtime, and I’m right there with her. A day of fussing and playing has us both on our last nerves.
I play one of her musical toys that has a soothing little ocean sound while I put her in fresh pajamas, and then I leave my room.
As soon as I step into the hallway, I see Savage. He’s leaning against the wall, his eyebrows low. He looks from me to Aurora and doesn’t say anything.
I’m too worn out emotionally from a day with the baby and the thousand confusing emotions warring in my chest to say anything.
I look up at him in question, and he nods, then steps aside to let us into his room.
When he looks from me to the baby, something big shifts on his face. A light comes into his whole body that I don’t ever remember seeing before.
He practically relaxes, from his muscled shoulders to his clenched fists. He holds up a hand and waves at Aurora. “Hey, baby,” he says. “Just came to say goodnight. From all my fingers except this one.” He tugs on the index finger of his left hand, the one thatAurora was biting on this morning. “This one’s still holding a grudge.”
I shake my head and chuckle, and Aurora babbles loudly as we walk past Savage. I tuck her into her crib, settling her in, and stroking her head. She must be wrung out from today. Her soft eyelashes cast little shadows on her cheeks, and she settles in to sleep much faster than I can believe. I click on the white noise machine and turn off the lights.
“I love you, baby,” I whisper. “Tomorrow will be a better day.”
I close the door and find Savage still standing outside the door of my room. He’s looking down at his boots.
I want to ask Savage about his day. I want to tell him about mine. I need so desperately to share my life with this man. Not just anyone. Not Stella, not Tank. Not Poppy, who still texts me every other day, sometimes more.
I was alone in my relationship with Anthony for so long. Especially once I got pregnant. He wouldn’t have been the kind of man I could curl up with on the couch and explain that Aurora had a bad day, that I’m tired and frustrated that I didn’t know how to help her. That I’m worried I’m doing everything wrong. I want someone to share that with. Someone strong, someone who’s been through real shit. Someone who won’t judge me because he, too, doesn’t want to sit on the receiving end of ill-informed judgment.
I hang my head and walk into my room, fighting theloneliness, the fatigue, and everything else that makes me feel like an utter failure.
“Claire.”
I turn at the sound of Savage’s voice. I can barely lift my eyes to meet his, and I can’t even summon a smile.
He doesn’t say anything. Just opens his arms. “Come here,” he demands, the order not cruel or selfish. The affection in his voice is so thick, I nearly burst into tears.
I do as he says, though. Even though I feel like a robot, my legs like lead, my head fuzzy with mixed-up messages, my body knows something more than I can comprehend. I go to him, lace my hands around his waist, and nestle my face against his collarbone.
He holds me tight, and we don’t say anything, our mutual emotions—different as they must be—relaxing into the quiet peace of a hug.
Savage cups my face in his hands. “Claire.” His whisper is gruff and deep.
He doesn’t say anything else. Just lowers his face to mine, and an instinct, bigger and stronger and more powerful than my fears, my worries, my exhaustion, lifts my face to his.