Page 11 of Goose's Wren

And fuck, I know I’m not entitled to her answers.I know she has every right to walk away and never tell me a damn thing.

But seeing that bruise on her face.It does something to me.A feeling so profound that I can’t ignore it.

I’m not some young misfit anymore.I’m not nursing a broken heart and watching her sister run off with some silver-spooned asshole.

I’m a man now.A patched-in brother of this club.And nobody gets to hurt someone like that.Someone like her.

Especially not her.

She grabs the keys off the counter and turns toward the door.Before she walks through it, she turns back to me.

“For the record?You don’t know me Goose.You never really did.”

I let her go without another word.

The shop door swings shut behind her with a dull clang, and I’m still staring at it like I can somehow see through it.

Like if I just focus hard enough, I’ll see the truth spelled out in big bold letters.Who did that to her, and how many pieces do I need to break them into?

I run a hand through my hair, trying to get my breathing under control.My jaw is still clenched, and my hands are twitchy.

I need to hit something.Or someone.Preferably the bastard who left that bruise on Wren’s face.

She didn’t want to talk.I get that.But she looked right at me like she was looking at a stranger.Like I was someone who could see that kind of pain and not give a damn.

She really doesn’t know me at all either if she thinks that.

The door to the back office creaks open and Timber steps out looking at a piece of paper in his hands.

He pauses mid-step when he catches the storm on my face, then casts a glance at the door Wren just walked out of.

“Well,” he says, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket, “what’d you piss her off about this time?”

I let out a rough breath, crossing my arms and leaning back against the counter, my whole body tense.

“I didn’t piss her off,” I mutter.

Timber arches a brow.“Could’ve fooled me.”

I don’t answer right away.I turn back to the door, grabbing the counter in front of me.My grip on the edge tightens until my knuckles go white.I feel Timber’s gaze settle heavier on me.

“You saw something,” he says.Not a question.

I nod once, jaw tight.“She’s got a bruise on her face.Tried to hide it with makeup and sunglasses.”

Timber’s expression darkens immediately.The easy sarcasm vanishes from his face like someone flipped a switch.His voice drops low, serious now.“You sure?”

“I saw it.No doubt.”

“Did she say who?”

I shake my head.“She wouldn’t tell me.Said it’s none of my damn business.”

Timber lets out a sharp breath through his nose.“Is she wrong about that?”

“Yeah,” I say, voice low.“She is.”

There’s a silence between us, heavy with unspoken things.Like the kind of quiet before a storm hits.And I know Timber’s thinking the same thing I am.Someone hurt one of ours.

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