Page 20 of Razor’s Redemption

"What do you mean?"

"I mean—" She gestures vaguely. "You're this... you're in an MC, you're clearly strong and capable, and you could probably have any woman you wanted. So why are you here with the exhausted single mom who can barely keep her eyes open half the time?"

Because you're the only person who's ever made the noise in my head go quiet. Because I've been watching you for two months and I've never once seen you be anything less than kind even when you're dead on your feet. Because when you smiled at that fussy kid in the booth three weeks ago, something in my chest cracked open and I haven't been able to close it since.

"Because you're real," I say instead. "You're not playing games or pretending to be something you're not. You're just you. Honest. Strong. Beautiful."

"I'm not beautiful."

"Yeah, you are."

"I'm—" She stops, bites her lip. "I'm overweight, exhausted and I haven't had a haircut in eight months because I can't afford it. I'm not—"

"You're fucking gorgeous," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I meant it to. "Don't argue with me about it."

She goes quiet, and I realize I just swore at her. Great. Fantastic. Really showing her what a gentleman I am.

"Sorry," I mutter. "I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's…" She laughs softly. "It's fine. I just… Nobody's called me gorgeous in a really long time."

"Then everyone you know is blind."

We keep swaying. My hand is still on her waist, and I can feel her warmth through her sweater. Can feel the way she's relaxed into this, into me, like maybe she's been holding herself rigid for so long that letting go feels like a relief.

I want to kiss her.

Want it so badly my teeth ache with it. Want to pull her closer, bury my hand in her hair, taste that mouth that smiles even when she's too tired to stand. Want to take her home and show her exactly what I think of her body, every soft curve I've been trying not to stare at for two months, every inch of skin I want to map with my hands and mouth until she believes me when I say she's beautiful.

But I can't.

Because this isn't just about wanting her. This is about the fact that she has a daughter. A six-year-old kid who already lost one father and doesn't need another man walking into her life just to fuck it up because I don't know the first goddamn thing about being a parent.

I've never even thought about having kids. Never pictured myself as someone who could be a father, or a stepfather, or whatever the hell the role would be. I grew up watching my parents cycle in and out of prison, learned early that biology doesn't make you a parent and that most people who have kids probably shouldn't.

What if I'm the same? What if I get close to Daisy, get close to Luna, and discover I'm just as shit at this as my father was? What if I try and fail and leave them worse off than they were before?

Terry used to tell me I was capable of more than I thought. That the fact I was afraid of becoming my father meant I wouldn't. But Terry's dead, and I'm here slow-dancing with a woman who deserves better than my baggage, and all I can think about is how easy it would be to hurt them both without even meaning to.