Hawke stopped dead and stared at her. For a brief moment, his body tensed. “Tyler?” he let out quietly, his voice laced with disbelief.

The girl jumped and a slosh of boiling water spilled over her knuckle. “Shit,” she whispered before turning around. Her knuckle was in her mouth, and she was sucking on her burn gently when her gaze connected with Hawke. Her eyes bulged out of her face, the burn no longer concerning her as she dropped her hand to her side and stared at him.

“Hawke?” she asked.

He looked her over, from top to bottom, taking in her long pyjama pants with yellow bird patterns and grey sweater with a name of what I assumed was a local school. Whether it was high school or college, I didn’t know. The girl appeared very young, maybe eighteen (hopefully eighteen).

“What are you doing here?” she said, moving to us. Mindful of the biker asleep on the couch, her movements were quiet. “And why is your beard so long?”

Hawke stared her down, his face going tight. “First of all, leave my beard alone. Second of all, what am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?”

She stopped feet away from us, a look of guilt washing over her young face. “I…”

“You what?” he pressed, a voice of authority now. “You whoring around the clubhouse now, Ty?”

She hesitated and her eyes looked away for a moment. “I’m not whoring myself, Hawke.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here? Whose bed are you in?”

She didn’t respond.

Hawke’s fisted his hands. “Answer me, Tyler. Is it Hector?”

“No,” she murmured almost too quietly to hear, but her cheeks went pink at the mention of Hector and I had to wonder if she was telling the truth.

“Then who?”

Her lips trembled as she breathed out, “Yours.”

Hawke’s shoulders slumped in relief, and now I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Did he like her? There was no want in his eyes. In fact, he looked at her like she was a kid in a very naughty place – and she kind of was, I guess.

“There were no other rooms,” she went on to explain. “The club’s been really full lately, and…I didn’t do anything to your room. It’s the same. I mean, there’s a little dust, but…I don’t have anything of mine in there. Well,” she paused and her eyes went to the ceiling in thought. “I got my purse in there, and some outfits, and…I think I got my straightener in there too, but...I crash here because the guys are cool with it, and…they had a wild night and I couldn’t go to sleep. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I promise… I swear, Hawke.”

Fucking hell. Doth does protest too much.

Hawke crossed his arms, exhaling slowly as she rambled. “Alright, Ty, I got it. But I need a room for her to crash.” He motioned to me, and for the first time the young girl looked at me with her brows shot up.

“Oh!” she said. “Okay, I didn’t know you were with someone or…I mean…is she yours? Cause she’s wearing your…” Her gaze went to his giant jacket I was still wearing. I didn’t even care I hadn’t given it back. It was warm and I was still numb. “Well, she’s pretty. Did you need the bedroom to be with her? I didn’t touch the condoms in your drawer. I mean…I saw them, and” – this girl was the most awkward thing I’d ever seen – “I’d find no reason to use them or anything –”

“No,” he immediately replied, blinking hard at the rest of her gibberish, “she is definitely not mine, and please don’t fucking say the word condoms to me, Tyler. I might blow a fuse with you. This is Emma. Borden’s girl.”

At the mention of Borden, she looked mortified. “Oh, my God, Marcus Borden? Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know. I should have known –”

“It’s fine,” I hastily interrupted, surprised by her reaction. What the hell? Was she terrified of me? What was so terrifying about me? I looked like a human ragdoll. I could still see bits of dirt on my hair, for crying out loud.

“Ty,” Hawke said, patience depleted. “A room. I need a goddamn room. Is there one or not?”

“You can just have yours back. I’ll find a way home. I washed the sheets yesterday, so it should be clean. I can replace them again if you like, Emma –”

“Ty, it’s fine,” Hawke went off again on an annoyed sigh. “Stay here. I’ll be back to take you home where you belong,” he stressed the last word with a glare in her direction, and she shrivelled away in her guilt-stricken state. “Sit down and have your tea. I’ll put Emma away.”

I’ll put Emma away. Like I was some vacuum cleaner that needed to be put back inside a closet. I sighed, not even bothering to dwell. I followed him out of the room and down a hallway filled with closed doors and other rooms. Christ, this place was huge, and it’d looked so mundane and lacklustre out front.

His room was the last door. We got in and he turned the light on. He surveyed the room, shaking his head at all the pink shit. Poor, awkward Tyler was a fibber. She’d practically moved into his bedroom. Aside from her butterfly lamp, pink clothes, pink mini-rugs and nearly naked man posters on the wall, the room was average. A queen bed was against the wall. There was a dresser and a desk, and a bathroom (thank heavens). Hawke threw his key down on the desk and continued to look around, this time running a hand over his beard in frustration.

“Get in bed,” he told me tiredly. “Get some sleep.”

I sat down on the bed and looked at him. “I’m not going to be able to sleep, Hawke. You know that.”

He looked me over, frowning. “You look like shit, Emma.”

“Thanks,” I retorted sarcastically. “That’s just wonderful because I care so fucking much about the way I look right now.”

“I mean you look dead tired. I can’t have you sleep-deprived and acting out like you did out front of the tattoo place, yelling at me and shit. I need you level headed about the situation.”

“Level headed?”

“Yeah.”

“Borden is out there!” My eyes immediately welled up again. “I can’t lose him, Hawke.”

He sighed. “I know.”

He moved to sit down next to me. The bed shifted beneath his weight, nearly causing me to fall against him. He ran his hands through his long hair, and I looked at him in the light. He looked like shit too. Dark circles under his eyes. There was more dirt on his face than I initially realized. I looked down at his hands. His nails were cracked and broken, dirt beneath their surfaces.