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Chapter Eleven
“Hey kid,” I said, ruffling over Harlyn’s hair with my hand as I walked by. “What’s going on?”
“Homework,” she replied, the tone of her voice low and full of frustration.
I leaned over the bar, grabbing two bottles of cold water from the fridge on the other side before heading back to the table where she was sitting, staring blankly at a workbook in front of her.
The clubhouse was pretty empty. Blizzard had his hands full looking after Jayla and trying to avoid the clubhouse at any cost due to Rose’s return. I had to admit, that girl had balls the size of a small country. Because of her, Chelsea had almost lost her life and Blizzard had been shot after falling head over heels for a woman who was essentiallythe enemy. Yet, she’d walked back in here with her heart on her sleeve, begging to make amends for the shitstorm she’d been a part of creating a couple months ago. Not caring that she could have been killed on sight and it would have been—in my mind—completely justified.
She had guts, I had to give her that much.
Things had been calm for a while, business as usual you might say. But with Blizzard’s mom coming in and asking the club for help, I could already feel the change brewing in the air.
Trouble was coming.
“You having issues?” I asked, handing Harlyn one of the bottles before dragging out a chair and sitting down with her.
She took the cold bottle and started drawing on the condensation that had gathered on the side of it, clearly avoiding looking up at me. “Did you like school?”
I snorted. “Yeah, I guess I did. I was pretty good at it.” She swiftly moved her hand, grabbing the book in front of her and slamming it shut. “Hey!” I said in surprise, grabbing her hand in mine and stopping her from picking it up and tossing it on the floor for good measure.
“School sucks! They’re all stuck up rich kids,” she sneered, glaring at the offending object.
“Woah there Rambo,” I teased, tugging on her hand and pulling her around the table. Harlyn had been suspended for a few days a week or so ago, for punching a kid in the stomach when he’d said some bad shit about the club. “What the hell is going on?” I spread my legs so she could stand between them putting us at the same eye level.
“I just don’t like it, Wrench.” She sighed, the fight leaving her. “I don’t know why I can’t just go to another school.”
“Because your mom wants you to get a good education. Sometimes we have to do things that we don’t want to do if we know that in the end, it’s gonna benefit us.” I countered, supporting Sugar’s choice to send Harlyn to the local private school instead of public, even though I didn’t entirely agree with it.
She wasn’t my kid, I didn’t have a say, and I knew that Sugar was just trying to do what she thought was best.
Things had been up and down with us since the day I’d found her in her room, in the brink of a mental breakdown. She never really offered me any kind of explanation of how she ended up that way, but after a few hours of us just hanging around her house, unpacking and laughing together, she seemed to bounce back pretty quickly. By bounced back, I really mean bounced.
Some days it was like nothing else existed but us. Others, the only glimpse I got of her was as she was running through the clubhouse yelling over her shoulder that she’d gotten a new idea and she needed to draw it before it disappeared. She’d been full of determination, her focus shifting to this new shop she planned on opening. It was good to see her so passionate, the beautiful broken girl I saw curled into a ball in her bedroom was like a bad memory that she’d left behind. One that neither of us wanted to remember, but that we couldn’t quite forget. It was just good to see her fucking happy again, even if she was too busy for me.
“It didn’t used to be like this at my old school because they didn't know who my daddy was.”
My gut sunk, it made sense now. “It’s that bad, huh?”
She looked away, and I instantly knew I was right. I caught her chin in my hand and turned her face to look at me. “Ain’t nothing those kids have to say is important, Har. They don’t know you. They don’t actually know your dad, and they don’t know the club. You think any of them have this many people ready to beat the shit out of anyone who spoke down about them?”
She shook her head.
“You think any of them get to ride on the back of a motorbike like you do with your dad, or have their mom make them fucking awesome one of a kind clothing like your mom?” I asked her, knowing full well none of those rich little shits would come close to the family that Harlyn has.
She laughed softly. “No. You should see the parents’ faces when Daddy picks me up.”
I grinned. “Exactly kid. You have so much more than they do. So don’t let their silly words get to you. You’re better than that.”
She surprised me by throwing her arms around my neck and cuddling into me. I didn’t waste a second in picking her up and squeezing her tightly to my chest.
“You’re the best, Wrench,” she whispered.
“You know I’ve got your back,” I told her. “Take a stand and let them know you won’t take their shit anymore, but try not to throw any more punches. Your mom about lost her mind with that one.”
Sugar had freaked out when she’d been called down to the school to deal with the scenario, and Optimus hadn’t been much better. It’s been one problem after another. Yet, Sugar was determined to keep her there, just saying over and over again that it was where Harlyn needed to be.
I wasn’t seeing it.
