Page 92 of Coast

“Oh, wow. I… didn’t know that.” But, somehow, I could actually picture her knowing how to shoot. Hell, Brooke seemed like someone capable of anything she put her mind to.

“You gonna fill everyone in on these ‘issues?’” York asked.

“Huck wants to have church about it. Saves me from having to talk about it more than once.”

“I’m sorry to be… a pain,” I said, not quite able to look at any of them when I said that.

“A pain?” Levee asked, shooting me a smirk. “Honey, we’ve had gangs, organized crime, drive-bys, shootouts, car chases, stalkers… what am I missing?” he asked, addressing the others.

“Yakuza,” Eddie said.

“Right. And I’m sure we’re missing something else. The point,” Levee went on, “is this is just another week in the clubhouse. Don’t sweat it.”

The casual way they all acted about that was comforting. At least I didn’t feel like a burden.

“I was thinking I could maybe cook for everyone. To show my thanks.”

“You don’t like my cooking?” Eddie asked, voice so heartbroken that my own hurt.

“What? No! This is amazing.”

“Then why are you trying to steal my gig?”

“Oh, I didn’t…”

“The kitchen is Eddie’s domain, except on the rare occasion that he’s sick or busy,” Velle explained. “It’s how he shows love.”

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to step on your toes. I just wanted to do something to—”

“You don’t have to thank us,” Coast cut me off. “We’re not even doing anything.”

They were.

He, especially, was.

But they clearly didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. And who was I to push it?

“How about I do the cleanup?” I asked Eddie after we all finished eating, leaving the sink overflowing with dishes, pots, and pans. “The cook shouldn’t have to clean.”

“You’re not gonna give up until you get a task, are you?” he asked, whipping off his apron.

“No.”

“Alright, lil’ mama. Load the dishwasher if you must. I’m gonna go see if I can make that baby of yours laugh too.”

She was currently giggling as Dixon pretended to bite her feet in the living room.

It was actually pretty sweet how a bunch of rough-and-tumble men were completely fascinated by a little baby. Even the standoffish ones who didn’t want to engage with her directly—Caymen and York, in particular—sat back and watched with pinched brows. Like they were trying to figure something out.

As for Lainey, well, she was gobbling up the attention. My little girl sure seemed to love the spotlight. It was something I couldn’t have seen so clearly without bringing her to the clubhouse.

I listened to them talk to her, her hooting and cooing back at them as I loaded the dishwasher, feeling a strange sort ofrightnessin my heart that I hadn’t anticipated.

I’d figured that staying at the clubhouse would be awkward at best. That I would feel like an outsider. That I would mostly only be around to sleep because I would be avoiding the men who surely didn’t want to share their home with a single mom and an infant.

I’d never been so happy to be wrong in my life.

I knew, logically, the novelty of a baby would wear off. And, yeah, there were going to be loud parties and half-naked women around. But I was oddly okay with that.

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