by Laura Kaye
The group alternated between small talk, long periods of silence imbued with a sense of togetherness, and bouts of talkative joking around. The guys told story after story—of Slider wiping his bike out and earning his club nickname in a round-robin fashion, each of them offering a new detail on what’d happened. Of how proud Slider was the first time he introduced his boys to the club. Of how he once brought infant Sam to one of the club’s Church meetings because Kim was sick, and the baby burped so loudly after finishing a bottle of milk that the whole club erupted into laughter and someone immediately proposed making Sam an honorary member. Dinnertime came and went, and while some of the others went down to the cafeteria, Cora stayed right where she was. In case she was needed.
Around nine o’clock, Slider and Sam came out to give everyone an update.
“Uh, hey,” Slider said, uneasily surveying the group as they rose to meet him. He appeared surprised to find so many people waiting for news. “So, uh, Ben’s doing pretty good. Doc thinks he’ll make a full recovery. His head scans looked clear. The elbow break was a clean one and, given his age, should heal up without any complications.” It was possibly more words than she’d heard Slider say at one time since she’d known him. And judging by the expressions the others wore, they might’ve been thinking the same thing.
But that surprise didn’t last long, because soon everyone celebrated the news with hugs and handshakes, laughter, and even a few prayers. And even though Slider still seemed a little uncomfortable with all the attention and interaction, Cora could’ve sworn she’d seen his mouth flirt with a smile. More than once. And that made her even happier that so many people had come out to show their support for him. She suspected he really needed to see that, whether he knew it or not.
“Mav’s covering your shift tonight,” Dare said, squeezing Slider’s shoulder. “So don’t worry about a thing.”
“Shit. Really? I was just gonna call out, but that’s . . . wow.” He nodded and raked a hand over his hair. “Okay, well, I’m going to spend the night with Ben, so can someone stay the night with Sam?”
Even as a half-dozen people volunteered, Sam interrupted. “No, Dad, I want to stay at the hospital tonight. I’ll just wait out here. It’ll be fine.”
“I thought two people could be in the room,” Cora said, knowing Sam would hate to be parted from his brother.
Sam gave a little shrug. “They can, but Ben would really like to see you.”
Cora’s mouth dropped open and her heart kicked into double time. Because how cute was that little boy? “What? I mean, that’s so sweet, but it should be you, Sam.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be right here. Ben’s hurt and tired, and you know how he likes to be with you when he’s not feeling good. He needs you, Cora. It’s okay. Really.”
“He’s right,” Slider said, those strange pale eyes peering into hers, asking her to be there. “Ben asked for you. Please come back with me.”
Suddenly, Cora became very aware that everyone was watching their conversation unfold. Heat filtered into her cheeks. “Okay, sure. Of course,” she said, even though the Evans men were kinda blowing her away with their sweetness.
And they really were. Every single one of them.
Chapter 4
She brought Blue Bear.
In the hours after they’d arrived at the hospital, Slider kept coming back to that thought. Cora had brought Ben his favorite toy. The one he always had to have when he was scared or upset. The one he couldn’t sleep without. The one that had become a lifeline of sorts in the months after Kim had died.
Slider had been concerned about getting to his son as fast as humanly possible. And Cora had been right there with him. But, still, she’d remembered Blue Bear.
And that little proof of her caring and thoughtfulness had put its hooks into him. Put them in, deep.
It made him feel like, for the first time in years, he had someone as invested in his kids’ well-being as he was. And to take care of his sons was to take care of him, too. Because they were the only things he valued anymore. Even more than himself.
So when Ben had asked for Cora to come back to his room while he fell asleep, Slider hadn’t minded. Not one bit. And the fact that Sam hadn’t, either, revealed a whole lot about how his sons viewed their babysitter.
Damn if that wasn’t a wholly inadequate word for Cora Campbell. Not that Slider knew of a better one.
Back in Ben’s room, Slider and Cora resumed the same positions as before—him on Ben’s right, where his arm was now encased in a bright blue cast, and her on the boy’s uninjured left side.
“Dude, that is, like, the coolest cast anybody ever had,” Cora said, her expression like she was looking at the Holy Grail. Many times, Slider had tried not to notice things about Cora, but it was hard to avoid paying attention when someone made your kids feel special. Again and again. And she always did.
Ben gave a toothy grin, his voice sleepy as he spoke. “I almost picked purple.”
She shook her head. “No way, blue is the awesomest. And tomorrow we’ll find a marker and everyone can sign it.”
His eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, leaning her elbows on the mattress so she could be closer. “You could get a bunch of the Ravens to sign it, and then when you go back to school, everyone will think you’re the baddest dude on the block.”
“Yeah!” he said, grinning wider.
Cora had such an easy way with Ben. With both of his kids, really. God, Slider admired that about her. Especially when nothing about him was easy, and hadn’t been in years.
Ben yawned and peered up at Slider. “You’re gonna stay with me, aren’t you?”
“You better believe it, Benji. And remember what we talked about. Nurses are going to come in a couple of times throughout the night. Just to check on you. I’ll be here the whole time,” Slider said, leaning over the boy so he could look him in the eyes. There was nothing like the unconditional love and admiration of a kid. But that didn’t mean Slider shouldn’t have to earn it. And he hadn’t done nearly enough these past few years, had he? He pressed a kiss to his son’s cheek. “Now shut those peepers.”
Ben giggled. “Your whiskers tickle, Dad.” Slider ran his hand over the facial hair on his jaw. One more piece of evidence of the mess he’d become. But at least it made Ben laugh. The boy looked up at Cora next, his hand snaking into hers and tugging her closer. “You’re staying too, right?”
“Wild horses couldn’t tear me away,” she said, squeezing his hand.
Ben made a face. “There are wild horses here?”
Cora chuckled and Slider shook his head. “Peepers. Closed. Now,” he said.
The boy was asleep in an instant.
After not sleeping much today himself, Slider probably wasn’t far behind him. Still, he nodded at the small sleeper sofa and quietly said to Cora, “You can take that. Nurse said there are pillows and blankets in the closet.”
She shook her head. “No way. You haven’t slept. And I’m kinda attached here,” she said, glancing at where Ben still clutched her hand. “Seriously, Slider. Get some sleep while you can.”
Frowning, he pulled out the sleeper, which was only a little wider than a twin-sized bed, found the bedding, and lowered the lights. “How ’bout this. We’ll take shifts.”
She smiled. “Sure.”
On a bone-deep sigh, Slider sat on the bed’s edge and kicked off his boots, and then he went horizontal still wearing his jeans and T-shirt. Cora laid her cheek against her arm, her face turned away from Slider toward Ben, her blond waves a soft cascade against the white hospital blankets.
And damnit all to hell, but it played with uncomfortable things inside his chest to see her like that. Things he didn’t want played with. Not ever again.
So he closed his eyes. And woke up two and a half hours later when the nurse came into the room to check Ben’s vitals. The kid hardly stirred, but Cora was still awake and making small talk with
the woman about how her night was going.
“Your turn to get some sleep,” Slider said when they were alone again.
“Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”
“We had a deal,” he said, his voice like gravel. Years of exhaustion did that to a man.
“Later,” she said, her expression soft with sleepiness. He forced himself into a sitting position, his stiff movements making him feel ancient. “You need it more than I do.”
He shook his head and pushed to his feet. “I’m not hogging the bed all night while you sit up in that hard chair.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” she said. “Sleep.”
He arched a brow. As much as he wanted to lie back down, he wasn’t doing it at her expense. “It’s your turn.”
“Slider—”
“Cora—”
She sighed. “I’m trying to take care of you, too.”
The words were like a sucker punch. Just nearly laid him flat out on the floor. And he had no idea how to reply. So he said the first thing that came to his mouth. “We could share the bed. To sleep.” As if that clarification had been necessary. For. Fuck’s. Sake.
“As opposed to?” Her brow lifted in a taunting little arch.
He scrubbed at his face. “As opposed to nothing. I just meant—”
“Don’t have a coronary, Slider. I was just teasing.” She eased her hand out of Ben’s grip. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Of course.” As she stepped into the little bathroom, he lay down again and made sure his body hugged the edge. And then he tried to remember the last time anyone had teased him. Definitely not since Kim’s death. Man, once upon a time, he’d been teased relentlessly. It was how he’d received his nickname. Slider. He’d been on a ride up on the back roads of South Mountain with a bunch of other Ravens and taken a turn too fast. He’d wiped out, his bike just sliding out from underneath of him right off the road. And he’d walked away without a scratch, earning a new handle now sewn onto the name patch on his club cut.
For freaking ever, it’d seemed at the time, he hadn’t lived that shit down. And, really, all he could do was take it and laugh. Not that he’d really minded.
But he’d lost all the easy rapport he’d once shared with his club brothers. Lost it to his grief and humiliation and shame. Lost it to caring for two brokenhearted, motherless boys—kids Slider wanted to make sure never learned the truth about their parents. Lost it when he’d withdrawn from the world around him rather than hear a million well-meaning but clueless people try to console him by saying how much Kim had loved him and how great a couple they’d been.
Damnit all to hell.
Finally, Cora emerged from the bathroom and toed off her sneakers. As she settled on her side facing him, she let out a little moan that stirred things that had no business stirring. “My back was getting tired, so thanks.”
He tugged the covers up to his stomach. “Don’t thank me when you’re the one going above and beyond.”
“I’m not doing anything more than anyone else would do for people they care about,” she said, her voice trailing off into a yawn. “I’m just glad Ben’s okay.”
The words hung there between them for a long moment, and Slider’s brain swam with possible responses as he stared at the ceiling. She was doing more than others would do. And in saying they were people she cared about, did she include him in that?
I’m trying to take care of you, too.
Her earlier words ping-ponged around in his brain, and he allowed himself to believe. On some level, Cora cared about him.
What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Or with the weird satisfaction it unleashed in his chest?
Finally, he manned up to meet her gaze, and turned his head to the side. “I’m glad you’re in our lives, Cora,” he said, his heart pounding from the unusual admission.
But he was too late. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was soft and even. Her pretty mouth was slack.
Probably just as well. No matter how true his statement had been, the sentiment still raised complications he was in absolutely no shape to handle.
Cora awakened on the nurse’s next visit, but Slider didn’t, and she was glad. The man had looked wrecked—dark circles under his eyes, hair a raked-through disaster, shoulders hunched from the stress of worrying about his kid. He needed the sleep.
But she was also glad because lying there in the tiny bed with him allowed her to really look at Slider in a way she didn’t often otherwise take the liberty of doing. Her gaze ran over the longish lengths of his brown hair, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was as soft as it looked. Cora studied his face and tried to imagine what he’d look like clean shaven. She admired the sleeves of black-and-gray ink that ran up his arms, her gaze fixing for a long time on the intricate cursive K that filled the three inches on the back of his left wrist.
K for Kim. His dead wife.
How sweet was that? That he wore something permanently on his skin for the woman he’d loved and lost. What wouldn’t she give for someone to feel so deeply about her? Just once.
The rest of his art included realistic depictions of flowers and a wolf’s face, along with interlaced tribal markings and geometric designs that tied it all together. A burst of sun rays extended out from the round bulk of one of his shoulders.
Cora’s gaze dropped lower. Slider was entirely covered, of course. Not just by his clothes, but by the thin hospital blanket, too. But none of that could keep her from replaying in her mind’s eye what she’d seen that morning in the man’s bedroom.
It was one thing to have witnessed him asleep in his bed, nude from the waist up, a huge tattoo across his back—the Raven Riders name and logo. His back and shoulders were all raw muscle, sinew, and bone. The guy didn’t eat much, but he worked hard, and the result was a frame that was at once too lean and well-muscled.
And then . . .
And then he’d flown out of the bed naked as the day he was born, giving her an eyeful of his front before letting her look long and hard at his back as he’d dressed. And, wow, the Ravens tattoo had been even more impressive seeing him wear it and nothing else.
Of course, Cora felt like the world’s biggest degenerate for having enjoyed even a single second of the view, given why he’d scrambled out of bed that way. But, damn, some things could not be unseen.
And Slider Evans completely naked was one of them.
Because every part of him had been more impressive than the last. He had the rangy, dangerous physique of a street fighter. A way-too-intriguing line of dark hair that ran from his chest to his groin. The hard-looking ass of a Renaissance sculpture. And a cock that, mostly soft, had hung surprisingly long against his thigh.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Not because the thought of his sex bothered her, but because it attracted her.
And that was confusing. To begin with, she was never sure what to make of this man who rarely said much and, when he did, it was often little more than a grunt or a handful of grumbled words. But more than that, the last time she’d had sex, she hadn’t wanted it.
It wasn’t sex, Cora, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. Right. Okay. Fine. It wasn’t. It’d been . . . rape. But since the scumbag who’d done it could never do it again, there was no sense dwelling on it, was there? She was fine. She’d gotten away. She’d survived. Just like she always did.
She heaved a big breath and opened her eyes.
And found Slider watching her. That pale green stare locked on tight.
Cora couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to, even as her pulse kicked up and the sheer force of his gaze narrowed the room—hell, the world—to the eighteen inches that separated them. Her lips parted, a shiver raced over her skin, and her nipples hardened. Because Slider was suddenly looking at her like he was starving. And she might be the meal he’d been dreaming of all this time.
Or she was rocking some seriously desperate wishful thinking.
But she didn’t think so. Not when he rea
ched across that gap between them. Softly, slowly, his hand cupped the side of her face, his fingers slid into her hair, his thumb stroked her skin, just skimming over the corner of her mouth. Once, twice, three times.
Cora didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t look away. She feared the second she did, whatever spell was weaving between them would break. She didn’t know what this was or what he was doing or what he even wanted, but she wanted the chance to find out. Plenty of men had looked at her with lust in their eyes during her almost twenty-four years, but no man had ever looked at her with such tormented longing.
He licked his lips, then gave a single shake of his head, like he was answering some question she hadn’t heard anyone ask. “Cora,” he whispered. Two more strokes of his thumb and he withdrew his hand. She was on the verge of protesting or pleading or launching herself at him when he said more, keeping her from doing a thing. “You should go back to sleep.”
Chapter 5
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Haven said as they lay together on Cora’s bed in her old hotel-like room in the Ravens’ clubhouse. Her friend wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been four days since Ben had been discharged from the hospital, and Cora had been at Slider’s house more hours than usual.
“I know,” Cora said. “Ben has just been a bit of a handful and Slider’s needed the extra help.” While the poor kid had weathered the injury and the hospital stay like a trooper, once the pain meds had worn off, he’d been miserable—unable to sleep and too uncomfortable to make it through a whole day of school.
“They’re really lucky to have you. I hope Slider realizes that,” Haven said. “Which reminds me, what was with you walking home the other day?”
Cora bit back a groan. She’d hoped Haven would’ve forgotten that. “It was just me making sure Slider realizes it,” she fibbed with a dismissive wink she prayed would throw Haven off the scent. Lying to her bestie made her feel like crap, but the alternative was coming clean about why Cora had been equally desperate to run away from home . . . and that made her want to vomit. “Besides, I don’t mind helping them out. It’s not like I have anything better to do,” she said. She’d meant for the comment to come off flippantly, but she’d failed, if the sympathetic expression on Haven’s face was any indication.
