Page 82 of Sterling Clay

I’ve learned that Cadence is Enya’s sister.

Enya chuckles next, rubbing her hand over her swollen belly. Baby number two is due in February. “You’re going to scare her away.”

Cadence glances back at me, eyes squinting like she’s truly inspecting me. “Something tells me Mavis doesn’t scare easily.” The side of her mouth crooks upward before she fully smiles. “The bigger question is, how are you at baseball?”

A few groans follow the question, but other questions are asked about Clay and me, and Ford and Cadence.

And the happiness level skyrockets. This is family. With a sharp pang of homesickness, I recall the easier times that come with growing up around a motorcycle club. The family barbeques and holiday celebrations that involved boisterous male voices and soothing female ones. I miss my sister and wish she could have had an experience similar to the one I’m experiencing with Dutton.

Glancing at him, so immersed in this family as well, accepted for who he is, and embracing them all right back, I send up a silent prayer of gratitude to Cecilia for trusting me with his care. For allowing me to love him as my own.

“You okay?” Vale asks, nudging my arm while holding out a glass of wine for me.

“Yeah,” I quietly state.

“Gotta love this lot, even if they can be overbearing at times. Love is overwhelming, right?”

“Yeah.” I blink, something suddenly in my eye.

“It’s also the best feeling in the world.” Vale side-eyes me, watching her family. “Don’t ever forget that, Mavis. You’re one of us now.”

I’m not certain if it’s a warning or a reminder but I’m not likely to forget the Sylver family if something ever was to happen to me or them.

+ + +

Later, Clay and I tumble to his bed, a ribbon of limbs entangled and mouths meeting. I giggle, giddy from two glasses of wine when I’m not much of a drinker and the overall buzz of dinner among a family that is shifting and growing.

Slowly, Clay and I undress each other, running our hands over the other’s body, exploring all the places we’ve already explored and yet still learning so much about one another. As I roll him to his back, climbing over him, something in my peripheral vision near the floor to ceiling windows has me turning my head, distracting me only a second from the glory of the man beneath me.

I freeze.

“Clay,” I whisper. “There’s someone out there.”

The shadow was not that of an animal, low to the ground and walking on all fours, but a full-grown male, passing by the window. I didn’t notice him looking through the glass, but he might have been. Who knows if he’d been watching us before he walked along the side of the house.

Beneath me, Clay lifts his head and glances toward the window. Then, he’s sitting upright and I’m scrambling off him. He stumbles from the bed and steps into his jeans, tugging them up his legs, sans underwear, leaving them loosely open at his waist.

I climb off the end of the bed and reach for his flannel shirt on the floor. My hands shake violently as I struggle to pull the warm material on before wrapping my arms around my middle to hold the shirt closed. My spine tingles, a chill racing down it, as goosebumps settle on my skin. My stomach is instantly in knots. Fear like I haven’t known in a long time wells inside me.

Clay yanks open the door to our bedroom, providing us a clear view of the hallway. Standing just outside the glass lining the wall, leaning forward with his hand shielding his eyes, is a man, and he isn’t looking in the direction of Clay or me, but staring at the closed door to Dutton’s room.

Clay is already rushing down the hallway toward the front door. While I fear for him because he shouldn’t go outside, he doesn’t know if the person is armed or dangerous, my greater concern is Dutton.

My son’s name is a squeak, paralyzed in my throat as terror takes over my body. I move limbs that are heavy and weighted with fear. Finally, I cross the few steps to Dutton’s door and open it, relieved to find him tucked in bed. His arms wrapped around Violet the bear. He’s safe and whole in here.

Instantly, I twist toward the floor to ceiling windows, noticing Clay standing barefoot in the gravel driveway. His hair is mussed, his jaw tense. His head darts left to right, searching for the man before he runs both his hands up the back of his head, forcing his hair to stand even further upright. Obvious frustration, and maybe a healthy dose of fear, suddenly presses on his shoulders. Clay looks like he’s yelling but I can’t hear what he’s saying through the heavy panes.

The stranger is gone.

But even without his presence, the memory of worn leather, cigarettes, and cheap cologne tickles my nose.

Chapter 28

[Clay]

“I lost him,” I repeat to Stone through the phone as I pace my living room. Stone told me to remain on the line until he gets to the house. I don’t know what he thinks he’ll find in the dark night. There was no breaking and entering in either the house or our vehicles. The man wasn’t leaning on the glass, so I doubt there are fingerprints to be taken.

He was just a man.