After I brought Olivia inside, almost everyone tore off on their bikes, and it’s left the house very quiet and very lonely. It’s moments like this that I appreciate that Trisha never sleeps. She’s one of those people who thrive off four hours of sleep and copious amounts of coffee in the morning.

Trisha: You talk about this Oz guy a lot. Are you sure nothing is going on with you two?

Me: Nothing. There is nothing going on between us.

Going against what Eli had asked, I told Trisha that I was visiting my biological father’s family. That was a bomb she didn’t expect me to drop. Because that was big enough, I was able to easily avoid telling her anything about motorcycle clubs or gangs or the Riot or the Terror or any of this nonsense that has hijacked my life. I also didn’t tell her that I kissed Oz.

But she does know about Olivia and Eli and Oz always being around and how I want to come home, but then again how I find myself...curious. She’s promised not to tell and if I believe anyone about anything, it would be Trisha.

Trisha: Daddy says fervent denial is a sign of hiding something. :)

But I don’t believe her on this, even though her dad does question people for a living. Me: And I’m going to bed now.

Trisha: lol Night

Me: Night

I toss my phone onto the bed beside me, ease onto the floor and open the door to my room. A glance down the hallway toward Olivia’s room and my heart jumps. Razor leans with his back against the wall and he peers into Olivia’s darkened room.

Violet’s warnings go off in my head. That I should stay away, that I should run, but there’s something very broken in his expression and it’s not the type of broken that causes fear, but the type I’ve spotted in my mother whenever she talks about her old home—about Kentucky.

“She fell asleep a while ago,” I say. I know because I checked on her twice. She seemed more exhausted than normal this evening.

“I know,” he replies.

Razor doesn’t say much to me, and from what I observed when he accompanied me and Eli to Nashville, he doesn’t say much to anyone so I don’t feel slighted by his lack of conversation.

“I was going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?”

He looks wearily into Olivia’s room again and then follows me down the hallway. Once in the kitchen, I get some water out of the faucet and set a full glass for him on the counter then work on fixing a glass for myself.

“Nashville was fun,” I say to fill the void. Reality is, it was fun in a weird way. Each of the guys went out of their way to talk to me or tease me in a good-natured way, and Eli...Eli and I shared some awkward conversation and a few times we shared some easy conversation. It’s surprising how much even I enjoyed those moments. “So your dad is Hook?”

Lars pads into the kitchen. When I turn off the faucet and open my mouth to speak again, Razor’s crouched on the floor scratching Lars behind the ears and Lars’s leg kicks as if he’s in heaven. What’s amazing? Razor is smiling.

Smiling.

I’ve been here for weeks and I’ve never seen him smile.

He has a gorgeous smile and it makes me realize just how beautiful the boy is. Blond hair, blue eyes, built a lot like Oz, but when I look at him, there’s no flutter in my stomach. No sense of urgency to be near him and I scowl. There goes my theory that the only reason I have tingles in my blood when Oz is around is because he’s attractive.

Lars plants a large wet kiss on Razor and instead of pushing him away like I expect the big bad biker to do, Razor only plants a kiss back on the dog’s head. He then stands like none of that happened. “Thank you for what you’re doing for Olivia.”

My stomach sinks. “I’m not doing anything.”

He shrugs again. “She’s like a mom to a lot of us and it’s hard to lose your mom.”

Pain flashes in his eyes and because this moment is nearing uncomfortable I ask, “Is she like a mom to Oz?”

Razor’s gaze darts toward the living room. “Ask him.”

Oz

RAZOR’S TALKING AND that’s a big deal. Yeah, he shoots the shit with me and Chevy and, once upon a time, he and Violet were the best of friends, but the kid doesn’t talk. His past with his mother messed him up so much that he feels safer inside himself than he does with the rest of the world.

He may stay bottled up within himself, but he’s loyal and has heart. I couldn’t think of anyone else besides Chevy I’d want by my side if the world went to hell, and it moves me to see that he’s talking with Emily. That he said thank you to Emily.

I’m not the only one who’s noticed how her presence has brightened Olivia’s world.

“I’m out,” Razor says then walks out the back door.

Emily stands stunned near the sink. Yeah, a lot of girls look at Razor like that. He’s like an angel with a demented side and girls either flock to him or run away. Emily seems to be leaning toward the running away, which means she has some semblance of a survival instinct.

What I’m not liking is my sense of relief that she’s not attracted to him.

“You okay?” I ask.

Emily drinks from the glass of water in her hand. “Yeah. Why are you still here?”

Because it’s my job to watch over you. To protect you. “A few guys stayed behind to talk and I saw the kitchen light flip on. Just thought I’d check everything out.”

She shifts her lips to the side as if she doesn’t buy my answer, but moves along. “Is Razor okay?”