Page 41 of Pike
The front door opened and shut, and Pike’s boots were heavy on the hard wood floors as he came into the living room where Gemma played. “Mr. Pike,” she called out and then seconds later she gasped. “Oh no! Sorry, Mr. Pike, I’m sorry.”
My hands were too caked in flour to see what was happening, but I didn’t have to worry because seconds later all I heard was Gemma’s laugh. Pike’s footsteps were slower and when I stepped into the living room, he was stumbling backwards dramatically with one hand to his chest. “Oh… no… not… the water. How will we recover?”
Gemma kept laughing at his theatrics and my heart squeezed, warmth flooded my veins and something as close to pure joy as I ever felt slithered up my spine, wrapping itself around each vertebra along the way.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not with him.
This was the life I’d dreamed of, minus the part where I was running for my life. Having a man at my side, who wasn’tjusta provider but also a partner. Someone who was interested in helping Gemma learn to write her name, tie her shoes, or attend school events. I wanted that so badly that I’d stayed with Marcus when he showed glimpses of it over time. It had been those glimpses that kept me with him long after I should’ve already left him.
It wasn’t supposed to be Pike.
Life on the run, hiding out, just shouldn’t feel like this.
But the nights with him? God the nights with him had healed me in ways I never thought was possible. The way he made me melt, the way he pulled out the confident, sensual part of myself that I hadn’t even known existed. During those nights I was someone other than Chloe, the boring wife and mother. During those nights I was a desired woman who gave and received pleasure. I was just me.
We hadn’t talked about what we were doing or what any of it meant, we just dove into pleasure without expectations. Without hope of the future. During the nights we just lived in the moment, we shook off labels and promises, and gave ourselves over to the fire that burned between us. I wasn’t a mom, I was just hands and mouths and desperate, hungry need. He wasn’t a biker or a grieving brother, he was just a man who craved me like I was his last meal.
We were fire and gasoline during those nights, hot and combustible, threatening to burn out of control if not for the threat of daylight and responsibilities.
And that was goddamn intoxicating.
It was too good. I liked it too much.
Pike wasn’t what I thought he would be and now that I knew him, he was even more than I ever gave him credit for. He was a genuinely nice guy who was just really rough around the edges, but he wasn’t cruel or mean. But I couldn’t help but pick up on his moods. Sometimes he seemed distant. Deep down inside I knew he was probably worried about the whole situation, but the damaged part of me—that part that Marcus had beaten into submission—couldn’t stop worrying that it was because I wasn’t good enough.
That I was a burden.
Back in the kitchen I told myself I was overthinking everything, because that’s what I did. If overthinking was an Olympic sport, I’d be the decades-long reigning champion. It was one of the few things I was really good at, which was why I needed to focus on something else.
Anything else.
Self-defense was the perfect place to settle my focus. Pike said that practicing regularly would help me improve and I felt it. My balance was better now, my instincts were already getting sharper and thanks to daily calisthenics I was getting stronger and faster. Each day I felt more capable and more confident in my ability to take care of myself.
The nightmares didn’t go away, and I wasn’t sure they ever would, or the panic attacks, but as Faith always used to say, healing was a process. Maybe with more confidence the nightmares would come less often, and the anxiety would lessen.
Fingers crossed.
I was getting better, I was healing and more importantly so was Gemma. She laughed easier. Each laugh came a little harder and she talked so much more now. Hell, she was damn near glowing under the careful attention of Pike. How starved for healthy male attention my little girl must’ve been for her to open up to the Steel Demons the way she had.
If only I could be so resilient.
Lunch passed in a blur, and I managed to eat half the stew and all of the bread before Pike and Gemma both pushed away from the table and cleared it without a word from me. “Hey, thanks you two.”
Pike flashed a half-smile, his gaze a question. “No worries. You cooked, the least we could do was clear the table, right, kiddo?”
“That’s right!” she handed him one last cup and rushed from the kitchen.
“So much for teamwork,” he grumbled playfully. “Are you doing okay?”
I shrugged and stood, rinsing my plate. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just lost in thought, I guess.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“I’m not sure, but if I do, I promise to ask.”
His brows shot up as my words surprised him. “I hope so.”
I opened my mouth to say more but my phone rang and vibrated on the counter, and Pike reached for it with a frown before I could. His expression turned worried and when I glimpsed the screen, I understood why. It was my sister. Faith didn’t usually call without texting first.
