16. Arianne

As the gates close behind us, locking us in the Iron Outlaws compound, my heart starts to slow for the first time since Halo opened my bedroom door thirty minutes ago.

His instructions were simple. Pack a bag for myself and Lola. Grab things she might need for forty-eight hours. Her little sippy cups, plastic bowls, toys, and most importantly diapers.

While his words were designed to calm, there was something about his tone. I'm used to reading between the lines. I had to do it constantly with Patrick. The way he asked a question would always tell me whether he already knew the answer or not.

When he told me I was beautiful, I always knew by his tone if it was because he'd cheated on me and felt bad or, worse, was about to abuse me.

I'm an expert at hearing what isn't said.

It all became clear when I stepped outside, Lola in my arms, and saw the front of the house. My legs shook as Halo hurried us to his truck.

On the ride, Halo told me someone set fire to his father's house.

My heart is still racing, my palms sweaty, as we pull into the crowded clubhouse lot. And while I don't love the idea of sleeping among all these people, I feel safer in numbers.

"Grab Lola, and I'll bring everything else in," Halo says as he parks.

There are more trucks than bikes. I guess when people have to move their families into lockdown, their vehicle choices make sense.

A yawn escapes. I'd been sleeping beneath a light sheet when Halo arrived home. Now my body is demanding I return to bed.

"Fuck it. You walk, I'll carry Lola, get you both settled, and then I'll come get the stuff."

I shake off the yawn with a sniff. "I'm good. I can get her."

"You're dead on your feet, kitten. Just get inside."

When Halo tells me to do something, I get ripples. Lots of them. Ripples over my skin. Ripples through my core.

Even more since he told me in the garage that he was a dominant. I wonder if he means in the bedroom or everywhere.

Patrick once tried the domination thing. He got frustrated when I couldn't make myself come on demand. He said I was a terrible submissive, and I believed him.

But now…

Halo glances my way. He must see the pink in my cheeks. "You're gonna be the death of me. Let's go."

I get out of the truck, and Halo grabs Lola from her car seat. The back of her head is a little sweaty, and she's just in a little short-sleeve onesie. She looks tiny in his arms as his hand stretches across her back, and I swear I feel the bite of longing for a child of my own.

It washes over me occasionally, but nothing can fill the gap. I think that's part of why Patrick was so angry. I couldn't have kids. He got tested and was fine. So, it had to be me. Just never had the money to do all the tests. And even if we did the tests, there was no way we had the funds to do IVF or any of those kinds of things.

Halo lets me into his room, where he turns on a muted lamp so as not to wake Lola. When I was here for Lola's party, I only really saw the bar, kitchen, and the medical room. The room is orderly, but a slightly weird L shape. There is a wide bed that takes up a large portion of the immediate space, with a wooden dresser and narrow desk opposite. Where the room turns into the bottom of the L, there is a wardrobe and some unused space before an opening to a bathroom.

"Cozy," I say.

"You okay if Lola sleeps in here with you?"

"Sure. Is there something I can put her in or on?"

Halo hands the sleeping Lola to me. "Think Dad and Mercy had something in their room. I'm going to go sleep in there. Let me go check."

There's a lot of noise outside the door as families arrive and settle. But here, in the sanctuary of Halo's room, I hear the little snuffle of Lola's breathing near my ear. I love the way she snuggles into my shoulder, her weight heavy in my arms.

The door opens wide, and Halo carries in a play pen with a thick mattress and a light sleep sack. He places it around the corner near the bathroom. Then he disappears again without a word.

Like everything unsaid, the vibration of frustration and anger are palpable.

With Patrick, I wouldn't mention it. If I asked, I'd probably learn I was the cause of it. But I find myself wanting to soothe Halo, even as I know it might be a risk given I'm uncertain how he's going to respond.

While he's gone, I place Lola down into the little sleep sack, zip it up, and stroke her forehead. She snuffles and wiggles around a little, but quickly falls back to sleep. Quickly, I use the bathroom. I don't have a toothbrush, but I put a little of Halo's toothpaste on my finger and do the best I can.

Halo returns with all our bags and places them on the floor. His eyes linger on me for a moment. A steady perusal. I'm still in my pajamas. Cotton shorts and a soft pink T-shirt. "Get into bed, Arianne," he says, his voice rough.

He turns on his heel and leaves again.

Even though I'm tired, I'm wired. I'm thirsty too.

Uncertain of when Halo will return, I step into the hallway to assess how far I am from the kitchen. I don't want to be too far away if Lola wakes up and needs me. I know the direction to the bar, but there are too many people in there.

"Hey," a man says, walking toward me and smiling. "It's Arianne, right?" He wears a cut that says he's a prospect.

"That's right."

"I'm Brandon." There's a large red rose tattooed on the back of his hand. "Do you need something?"

"I wanted some water."

Brandon steps a little closer. Perhaps too close. Or maybe I'm imagining things.

"I can get you anything you want," he says. The innuendo is ripe in his voice.

"No. It's fine. If you could just point the way."

He reaches for my hand. "Come on, I'll show you."

I take a small step backward. My heart races. He smells of cologne, like Patrick always did. I figured it was to cover up the scent of the woman I suspected he was having an affair with.

Brandon takes one step forward. "I'm a good guy, Arianne. Honest. Let's go get you something to drink, and you can tell me about yourself." His eyes skim down my pajamas to my legs, and the smile he offers is at best lascivious.

Suddenly, I'm thrust back to Patrick, the way he'd look at me sometimes. It turns my stomach, and worse, fear rumbles in my chest.

I take another step back but slam up against something hard. "Steady, Arianne."

Halo. His hand slips around my waist, his palm firm against my stomach. Heat pours from him, but with it comes solidity and safety.

"Suggest you go do something fucking useful, Prospect. My truck's outside. Go clean it."

Brandon opens his mouth, then closes it. "It's four in the morning."

"Means you've got plenty of time to do a good job because I won't need it before ten."

He glances in my direction. "I was just chatting with Arianne. Best of my knowledge, she ain't claimed."

"She's married. About as fucking claimed as you can get. Now clean my fucking truck before I make you do it with your tongue."

Brandon stares Halo down for a moment, but I can tell the second he loses.

"I'll see you later, Arianne," he says.

As he leaves, I turn and face Halo. "I'm sorry. I wasn't flirting with him. He just kept stepping into my space. I just needed some water, and I didn't see any glasses in your room, so I was going to try and find the kitchen or something so I could find a cup and?—"

"Arianne." Halo says the word firmly.

"Yes?"

He strokes my hair, and I rub my head against his palm. "Get in bed. I'll go get you a bottle of water."

I sigh. "It's okay. I'm?—"

"If you're about to say ‘sorry,' swallow it. Go back to my room. Lock the door. I have a key."

I do as Halo says, embarrassed by what just happened. And angry. Why couldn't I just stand up to Brandon and tell him to step away?

Because Patrick would have split your lip if you tried.

It's going to take some time to undo all these automatic reflexes. Maybe once all this is settled and I have the little apartment or house that Halo suggested, I'll keep it as restful as possible.

I need my whole autonomous nervous system to come down off DefCon One.

Perched on the end of the bed, I realize I'm still shivering. A key rattles in the lock, and I watch nervously, even though I know it's Halo. When he steps inside, I keep my eyes on the floor out of habit.

"Eyes up," Halo says as he comes to stop in front of me. He offers me a water bottle. "Drink as much as you need."

I do as he says, chug after chug, until I'm about halfway done. Tension thrums through me. But it's no longer from thoughts of Brandon. It's Halo's presence. He's watching me carefully. When I offer him the bottle back, anxious to slide into bed and pretend tonight never happened, he gently nudges the bottle back to my lips. "You drank that so fast, you must be dehydrated. Drink some more, Arianne."

I do as he says because I don't want to admit to him that I'm just trying to get out of his orbit before I do something really reckless like kiss him.

When I'm finished, I screw the lid on and place it on the narrow side table next to the bed. "I'm done."

Halo crouches in front of me, his eyes narrowed slightly. "You need to find your backbone, kitten. I know life has taught you that when you use it, bad things happen. But that's not statistically true."

"Someone set fire to your father's house, someone attacked your home," I say. "Bad things do happen."

"I'm talking about relationships. Bad things happen when you interact with your husband. He's the bad thing. Ninety-nine percent of the people you meet in the world won't respond like he did, even if you piss them off. So, in future, when someone like Brandon makes you feel uncomfortable, you just need to outright tell them and leave the situation."

So, in future…

I can't ever put myself in a position where a man has so much power over me again. But there's a piece of me sad that there won't be a me and Halo.

"It's rare a man will hit you," Halo says, interrupting my thoughts. "Maybe you should join Niro's Self Defense Sundays for the old ladies. Teach you how to fight back a little. Give you some confidence."

I think about what Halo is saying. "I don't know how I ended up in this place where I'm scared of my own shadow. My default is to run. To hide. To avoid confrontation at all costs. Even at work, I was the same. You know they threatened to fire me if I went to my sister's funeral, and I actually debated not going?"

Halo tucks my hair behind my ear, and it sends little shivers down the spine Halo was telling me to find. It's a reminder that, anatomically speaking, I still have one. "You ever see a baby giraffe try and stand for the first time?"

"That's random. And no. I don't think I have."

Halo smiles. "Their legs are way too long for their body, and it takes a while to find their center of gravity. They wobble around, unsteady, until finally they find their feet."

The image of a baby giraffe stumbling around, even as it celebrates being born, comes to mind. "I'm the giraffe in this scenario?"

"Yes. Prettier though. Less yellow."

The compliment washes through me. I've been starved of them. I can't remember the last time Patrick uttered a nice word to me.

"You think I'm pretty?" I ask.

Halo places his palm to my cheek and rubs his thumb over my lower lip. "Real fucking pretty and you know it. Gorgeous, even. Climb in," he says, tipping his chin in the direction of the pillows.

I do as he says, the soft cotton sheets smelling of him as I climb beneath them.

"What if Brandon comes back?" I ask. I hate how quiet my voice is.

Halo tucks the sheets in around me. I never thought I needed that singular comfort, but it makes me feel treasured. I wonder if that might be part of his reluctance about the idea of us. That I love these almost childlike gestures of which I am under no illusion stems from a childhood that didn't include them.

"I'll lock the door when I leave. It opens from the inside, so you won't need the key."

I glance at the door.

Halo rubs a hand across his stubble, then shakes his head.

He removes his cut and hangs it on a hook by the door. Next, he removes his T-shirt and puts it in a laundry hamper, which strikes me as odd.

Who would have thought a biker had a hamper in his room?

I try not to look, but it's hard to not stare at the way the ink and muscles in his back move as he does. Halo places a palm to the wall and allows his head to drop for a moment. He seems uncertain, and I wonder if there's anything I can do to help. I even make a move to lift the sheets to climb out and go give him some comfort when he turns to me.

"Move over."

I hurry to do exactly as he says.