Harley (Cerberus MC)

“I can get her up if you want,” Ali offers, her voice following me back to the table to grab the monitor. “It’s my job, after all.”

“Daycare doesn’t open for hours,” I say, trying to keep my voice at a level tone.

I have no idea what it is about her that makes me so damn snappy and defensive.

“I don’t mind,” she offers.

“I’ve got it,” I say as I leave the room.

Deep down, I don’t get the impression that Ali, or anyone at the clubhouse for that matter, thinks I can’t handle my own child, but it annoys me to no end if they offer to help when I’m in the position to do it just as easily myself.

Aria is in full-on meltdown by the time I make it to the room, and she only calms a little when I pull her out of the crib.

“Sweet girl, Daddy’s here.” I stop short of saying I’ll always be here for her, because we both know those types of promises are easily broken.

I work on changing her diaper, hating that I was so distracted by Ali being in the kitchen with me that I forgot to make Aria’s bottle. I leave her pajamas on because with her being up this early already, she’ll want another nap before really getting her day started.

I’d try to put her back to sleep now if she wasn’t so fussy after her diaper change. I can only hope that Ali has disappeared from the kitchen. I sigh in relief when I enter the room and find it empty.

When I find the prepared bottle on the counter with a note in feminine writing, indicating that it’s for my little girl, I don’t know how to feel.

“Maybe she isn’t so bad after all,” I tell Aria as I lean her back in my arms and offer her the bottle. I’m glad she’s able to hold it now, but the first time she no longer needed me to do it made tears spring in my tired eyes. Who knew being a parent was so rewarding and yet also so emotionally draining?

Aria doesn’t take a nap, hyping up my anxiety by the time I make it to the daycare.

“There’s the sweetest little girl in the entire world,” Misty says as she greets us, holding her arms out for me to hand Aria over to her.

Aria squeals around her pacifier, legs kicking in excitement. I’d like to think that it’s because she’s just happy to see a new face this morning rather than a desperate need to get away from her broody-ass dad.

“Umm.” I begin looking around the room. “Where’s Ali? I wanted to thank her for making Aria’s bottle this morning.”

Misty’s eyebrow cocks up in question, a small smile playing on her lips.

“We were drinking coffee in the kitchen,” I rush to explain, but that doesn’t really seem like it would alleviate suspicions. “We weren’t—she wasn’t with me. She’s sleeping on the damn couch in the living room.”

“I know,” Misty says as she turns around to place Aria into a walker, handing her a plush toy before turning back in my direction.

“We didn’t go to the kitchen together, I mean.”

“Okay.”

“She wasn’t with me. She was on her own.”

“Wouldn’t matter if she was with you, Harley. You’re both adults.”

The insinuation that I’d get involved with another woman so soon after my wife’s death makes my stomach sour. It’s bad enough I popped wood when we were in the kitchen together.

“Why is she sleeping on the couch? Did something happen at the house?”

“Not that I know of. She’s just not ready to be alone yet. She’ll get there.” She gives me a sweet smile, not unsimilar to one my mother would give me. “I have to say I’m glad the two of you had a civil interaction.”

“Em made her point, and I’m trying to do better,” I say, the only explanation I’ll give her. “So, is she around? She made Aria’s bottle this morning when I went to get her out of bed, but she was gone before I made it back to the kitchen.”

“She’s out running some errands. She should be back when you pick Aria up.”

“Is she—”

“Boomer took her this morning, so she’s not alone. She’ll be safe.”

I nod before turning around to head to the gym out back. I’m both relieved, and a little irritated that Boomer seems to be the one always around her. Despite him assuring me there was nothing going on, I don’t know that I believe him.

I beat the shit out of the heavy bag once I get in the gym because none of it should bother me at all.

Chapter 9

Alyssa

“I haven’t seen that brand. I don’t think they’re using it. Grab Desitin,” I tell Boomer when he grabs a tube of off-brand rash cream.

He puts it back and grabs three of the other kind. “Why so many?”