I slammed my phone on the coffee table, and Chaosflinched. I murmured an apology, petted her, and glared at Merci. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion. You can see yourself out.” I grabbed a clean towel and headed to the hallway bathroom.
“Hatchet, wait—” Merci called out.
I didn’t want to hear her apologies. Everyone saw me as the biker all the sweetbutts loved. The good time and an even better fuck. And fair, that’s all I’d been since joining the Mavericks.
But watching Thane, Reaper, and Merrick settle down made me crave more, and I couldn’t find someone living every bachelor’s dream. And with the possibility of becoming a de facto parent to a high schooler, I needed my own space.
As the hot water sluiced down my back, I imagined what weekends would look like.
Jessa and Chaos would play in the yard while Merrick and I drank coffee on the front porch on Saturday mornings. We’d overhear Kenna and my old lady—a mystery to me—laugh in the house as they poked fun at us about old-man hobbies like fishing. They’d come out, and the screen door would squeak on its hinges. My old lady would complain that I still hadn’t gotten around to oiling it, and I’d promise to do it later that day. Kenna would lean down to peck a kiss on Merrick’s cheek, and my woman would move to sit on my lap, wrapping her arms around me. With my eyes closed, I tried to make out the face surrounded by a halo of dark hair.
Merci.
My eyes flew open. Fuck. I turned off the water and quickly toweled off.
When I got back to my room, Chaos ran wild with a throw pillow in her mouth. I should have specified that I wanted Merci to put the pup in her crate before she left.
“Chaos, here,” I commanded. The pup shook her head, and the threadbare stitching finally ripped. The impending explosion that had been building like Mount Vesuvius ever since she first discovered my pillow-turned-chew toy began to throw white stuffing across my entire space. “Motherfucker. Chaos, here.”
But Chaos didn’t have her listening ears on. She had her gremlin ones on. That meant every command went unheard as she rampaged through my room with unbridled glee, intent on causing complete bedlam and destruction.
I couldn’t handle a ten-pound puppy. Was I delusional to think I could raise a fifteen-year-old girl?
Chapter Eleven
Two fitful nights of sleep left me wrecked. An apology stuck in my throat, cutting like broken glass. I’d insinuated Hatchet couldn’t handle his sister. Deep down, I knew that was bullshit.
I’d watched him at the clubhouse, kneeling in the gravel to tie Leo’s shoes when he showed up with Ace. Letting Tilly and Talia climb him like a jungle gym. Becoming an instant best friend to Sofia when her life was turned upside down.
He also helped every prospect adjust, quietly showing them the ropes, without making them feel like idiots.
Impulsive, sure. A flirt with every woman he met, absolutely. But the biker had a big heart. He cared. If anyone could take in a scared fifteen-year-old girl, it was Hatchet. I felt like shit for implying otherwise.
The world blurred on my drive to work as my mind shifted to the long day ahead—charts stacked, monitors beeping, residents barking orders, insurance companies denying coverage. Another day in bureaucratic paradise.
I started my day with an angry appendix in a middle-aged manand a woman with blinding migraines. Lunch was a protein bar choked down after stitching up a construction worker’s gashed forearm. Then the rush hit. A kid with a busted collarbone from a playground fall, an oil rig explosion, and a fender-bender.
I didn’t dare utter it out loud, but I was grateful for the busy shift. Free time left too much space in my brain to spiral about my fight with Hatchet. When I finally had a moment to breathe, I pulled out my phone, typing and erasing a message several times before I finally pressed send.
Me: I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean you couldn’t handle it. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense that you’d want to step up for Jessa.
I waited, watching the three dots blink and disappear a few times before a response came through.
Hatchet: I’m sorry I overreacted.
Me: You know what would make us both feel better?
Before I could even ask, he sent over a cute photo of Chaos in a pile of stuffing, her tongue lolling out like she was proud of her little gremlin achievement.
Me: It’s kind of scary that you can read my mind like that.
Hatchet: If you’re bored tonight, you should come with me to look at houses. See if the yard is acceptable for Chaos.
Me: You’re growing up right before my eyes.
Hatchet: Never. I’m Peter fucking Pan.
The rest of my shift dragged with one last code blue before Iclocked out, my scrubs reeking of antiseptic. On the drive home, my phone rang, and I smiled when I saw it was Hatchet. “Hey, I’m on my way over.”
