Stitch: Satan's Fury MC(20)

“A lot, I guess. I’m always trying to find a way to get Wyatt to eat his vegetables. He pretty much hates anything healthy, so I’ve had to get pretty creative,” she explained.

“You’re a good mother, Wren.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“He’s an awesome kid, and it’s obvious that he’s crazy about you. You’ve gotta be doing something right.”

“Yeah, he is pretty amazing,” she said smiling. “I called to check on him earlier, and he couldn’t stop talking about the science museum my mother is taking him to today. He’d spent last night researching everything about it, and I’m sure he’ll drive my parents crazy with all his little facts.”

“I think his facts are cool,” I admitted. “And I’m sure they’ll enjoy spending the day with him.”

“Yeah… they always do. Don’t know what I would’ve done without all their help,” she explained.

“You see them often?” I asked, knowing I hadn’t seen them around over the past few weeks.

“Normally I do, but things have been pretty hectic lately.”

“You haven’t told them.”

“About Michael? No. I didn’t want to worry them. They have enough on their plate without me adding to it.”

I’d never known what it was like to have parents that gave a shit about me, so I was in no position to spout off advice to her about dealing with her folks. Deciding to leave it alone, I stood up and headed to the counter to get myself another helping. When I turned my back to Wren, I heard her take a deep breath. Unlike my chest, the scars on my back weren’t hidden behind tattoos. The scar tissue was too deep, and even the best tattoo artists wouldn’t attempt to cover them. I knew they looked gruesome, but they were a part of me. Nothing I could do to change it.

Before she had a chance to ask, I said, “It was my grandfather.” When I turned to face her, tears had already begun to fill her eyes. “He was just a mean old bastard.” I didn’t bother explaining what he’d done. She’d seen the scars, there was no doubt how they’d gotten there.

“Your grandfather did all that to you?” she asked in barely a whisper.

“Mostly. Some are shrapnel scars from the war. I did two tours in Iraq, but was medically discharged before I could enlist for a third.”

She stood up and walked over to me, winding her arms around my waist as she hugged me. She rested her head on my chest and said, “I hate him. I don’t even know him, and I hate him for doing that to you.”





Chapter 15




Wren




“What about your sister? Did he hurt her too?” I asked. His muscles became tense, making me instantly regret asking the question.

“No, darlin’. I would’ve killed him if he ever laid a hand on her,” he answered. He kissed me softly on the cheek, then pulled back from our embrace as he took his plate off the counter and placed it in the sink. With his back to me, he asked, “How long are your parents planning to keep Wyatt?”

The way he’d just shut down reminded me of Wyatt, pulling back into his turtle shell. It was clear that he wanted to change the subject, and even though I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask, I let him. “I have to finish up a paper for one of my classes, so they are keeping him until tomorrow.”

I started putting the rest of the dishes in the sink, making myself busy cleaning up the mess I’d made while cooking breakfast. Griffin followed suit, and in no time, we had almost everything cleaned and put back where it belonged.

I was putting the last few dishes in the sink when he asked, “Can you do it here?”

“What?”

“Your paper? Can you do it here?”

“I guess so. My laptop is in the car, but…” I started.

“Then, do it here,” he said, giving me a sexy wink. “I’ll grab your stuff out of your car.” And just like that, he was out the door. Seconds later, he returned carrying my laptop bag and all of my books.

“Okay, I guess I’ll get to work then,” I told him.

“Where do you want all this?”

“Mind if I do it in the living room? I like to watch TV while I work.”

He laughed as he said, “Didn’t your mother teach you not to do your homework in front of the TV.”

“She tried, but it never really stuck,” I admitted with a smile.

“Imagine that,” he laughed. “Make yourself at home. I’ve got a few things to tend to, but I’ll be around if you need me,” he explained.

“Are you sure you want me to stay?” I asked, giving him one last opportunity to get me out of his hair.

He stepped over to me, placing his hands on my jaw, and said, “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” Then he leaned in and kissed me. It was short, but effective.

With a satisfied smile on my face, I curled up on the sofa with my laptop in my lap and got busy. I already had most of the research done, so it was just a matter of actually writing the five-page paper. It didn’t take me long to get most of it written, even with one of my favorite movies playing on the TV. I’d almost forgotten that I wasn’t alone, when Griffin walked in the living room and sat down in the recliner next to me. When I glanced over to him, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing out.

I was barely able to form the words when I asked, “What are you wearing?” I couldn’t believe what he’d done. It was the funniest, crazy thing I’d ever seen.

“What?” he asked innocently. “You don’t like my old man pants?”

“Griffin! Where on earth did you find those?” He was wearing a pair of ratty jeans that were at least three sizes too big, and an old Notre Dame sweatshirt with a matching Divecap.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he said, looking down out his outfit.

“Seriously? Griffin, this is not the sort of thing I’d ever expect you to do,” I said, trying to reign in my hysterical laughter.

“So you’re saying you don’t like my big ole’ sweatshirt?” he asked.

“You got me… it was a bad idea, a very bad idea,” I admitted as I placed my laptop on the coffee table and walked over to him, quickly pulling the hat off his head. I tossed it to the floor, and said, “Take it off.”

“Not happening. Now go sit your pretty, little ass back down on that sofa and finish your paper. When you’re done, I’ll lose the sweatshirt.”

“So you are blackmailing me now?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” he said with a sexy smirk.

Shrugging my shoulders, I headed back to my spot on the sofa and said, “What goes around comes around.”

“I don’t respond well to threats, Wren,” he teased.

With an audible huff, I sat back down on the sofa, pulling my laptop in my lap and grumbled, “Mr. Baggy pants doesn’t do threats.”

I didn’t have to look at him to know that he was smiling. I could feel it. His good mood radiated off him, making the entire room light. I felt so at ease with him, happy. We spent most of the afternoon just sitting in that living room, enjoying each other’s company while I worked on my paper. I loved that he was so patient, and how he understood that my classwork was important me, never making me feel like I needed to rush. As the day passed, he made himself busy with odd jobs around the house, quietly working on his computer or doing small projects outside. There were a couple of times that I heard him talking on the phone, and I became concerned when he raised his voice, growling at someone on the other end of the phone about a warehouse.

Moments later, he walked into the room, and I could see that his lighthearted demeanor had disappeared. He was wearing his cut and a pair of jeans that actually fit, and his body seemed tense. Something was weighing on his mind, and his good mood was quickly fading. Feeling guilty that I might be keeping him from something, I said, “You know, you don’t have to entertain me. If you have something you need to do….”

“I’ve got to take care of a few things,” he said, forcing a smile. “Maverick and a couple of the other brothers are coming by for a minute. We’ll be out in the garage, but you can call me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” I answered. Henley and Cassidy had already warned me about club business, so I knew not to ask him what was going on. It felt strange not talking about something that seemed so important to him, but I kept my mouth shut as I watched him fiddle with his computer. His eyebrows furrowed into a scowl when he read whatever information he’d pulled up on the screen. Something was going on – something that obviously concerned him, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with that phone call.

He was still focused on his computer when the rumble of motorcycle engines drew his attention to the driveway. Without a word, he shut his computer down and walked over to me, giving me a light kiss on the lips before heading out the front door. I could hear their muffled voices as they greeted one another, and then everything fell silent. Curiosity washed over me, making me want to jump up and peek out the window, but I stayed put. Instead, I pulled out my phone and was surprised to see that I had several text messages from my mother.