My Darling Mayhem
: Chapter 7

‘Can’t we ride to school with Archer and Kane?’ Cruz whined for the second morning in a row.

My irritation flared over the Archer topic again. The man had moved in only two weeks ago, and already my life seemed upturned entirely by him. Cruz couldn’t stop talking about him at dinner or how Archer had tried to teach my son how to ride his bike. I had tried working on it with him over the summer, but neither of us had gotten the hang of it. Not him with pedaling or me with how to better explain it.

After three skinned knees and a forehead cut, I called it quits. But Cruz had come home without cuts, bruises, or scrapes when he’d tried with Archer. I had watched from the front porch, my computer in my lap while I wasn’t paying attention to anything on my screen, and instead couldn’t stop watching my neighbor.

He was gentle and cautious with the boys. He laughed like a kid, but he was safe with them, holding the back of their seats and not letting them fall. Kane loved every second of it, bragging about his older brother so loud that I heard it from where I was. His ability to inspire young boys only infuriated me more. Then, an entire day passed, and it was as if Archer had never been here. We didn’t see him, which only made my son ask a million questions and be moody over dinner.

Zipping up my son’s jacket, I cleared my throat. ‘Not today, but if he’s around after school, you’re welcome to see if you can join Kane again.’

Cruz stomped his foot. ‘But I know he’ll give us a ride, and you need a ride to work. You can’t drive yet, and Lydia said she couldn’t help you today.’

‘Mommy is getting a ride to work from a coworker.’

‘I hate riding the bus.’ Cruz stomped his foot again.

I clicked my tongue. ‘Since when do you stomp your feet? You can’t whine like this whenever you don’t get your way. Now, I’d hate to take away hang-out time after school. I suggest you act like a big kid and ride the bus without throwing a fit.’

My son’s face fell, and his eyes found the ground. Guilt slashed at that parental pride, where I assumed I was creating character in my kid. Instead, I pulled my son forward into a tight hug.

‘I’m sorry, bud. If you’re mad, then be mad. I get it. Just know I’m trying my best, okay? We can’t just invite ourselves to get rides from people. That’s not the polite thing to do.’

Cruz pulled back and gave me a small half-smile. ‘But what if Archer offers?’

I hated this. ‘If he offers, then I’ll accept.’

And I’d gladly cancel on Brian, which meant Archer was the lesser of two evils.

Great.

‘Promise?’ Cruz lit up like a cute little Christmas tree, all smiles and raised brows.

I held my pinky out. ‘Promise.’

The bus was supposed to come in ten minutes; there was no chance that I’d likely even see Archer in that time, so our little promise meant nothing.

‘Let’s go outside so Archer knows we need a ride.’

I stood up and rolled my eyes so my son wouldn’t see. This was ridiculous.

Even still, I grabbed my keys, laptop bag, and phone and then opened our front door.

‘But if we don’t see Archer, we’re just heading to the bus stop, okay?’

Cruz nodded and pushed open the door. I wore a tight wrap around my ankle and boots to accommodate the thickness. Skinny jeans stretched up my legs, where a simple floral tank flared at my hips, which I covered with a small, cropped leather jacket. It still hurt like a bitch to put any pressure on my foot, so I grabbed one of the crutches to help me as I limped down the drive away.

Cruz slowed his steps, and I assumed it was for me. Then I looked up and realized he was watching Archer’s house, waiting to see if he’d drive out. I just kept hobbling down the drive, knowing that even if he did arrive, he’d never offer me a ride after how things ended between us the other day.

We turned the corner from our drive and started down the sidewalk, and my son kept peeking over his shoulder with an eager expression.

I hated this.

How was it possible that he was already attached to Archer? He had no male role models in his life, so it didn’t surprise me that he wanted to be around Kane’s cooler older brother, but the fear I had over his heart getting broken was terrifying. It was entirely out of my control, and I had no idea what to do to protect him.

Suddenly, the sound of someone’s garage door opening and the loud growl of a diesel truck reverberated down the street.

Cruz turned excitedly. ‘Here he comes!’

I glanced up, seeing the white streaks left behind by planes cut through the cornflower blue sky. Fall was drawing closer, which meant the days were colder, but summer clung to the sweet, humid air. My jacket was a tad too warm, but I looked cute, so it would stay on no matter how warm I got.

‘Cruz,’ I lightly warned as the truck started down the street, slowly but with enough speed that he’d pass us within seconds.

My son waved, smiling brightly at Archer, and my stomach flipped around. I prayed that this idiot would stop and say hello to my son. A warm greeting would likely mean the world to him even if he didn’t offer a ride.

The truck slowed, and my chest thrummed with anticipation.

Cruz stepped closer to the curb as Archer came to a complete stop and rolled his window down.

‘You riding the bus today, Cruz?’

My son glanced up the road, where his stop was, and back at Archer. ‘Yeah, my mom can’t drive yet.’

The diesel truck idled loudly as Archer’s gaze fell upon me. His blue eyes were shrewd and calculating.

‘And how’s your mom getting to work?’

Cruz tilted his head up to me as if he wanted to know if it was okay that he answered. I nodded at him with a smile.

‘She’s getting a ride with a coworker.’

My eyes drifted over to the driver’s seat again, hating how nice Archer’s hair looked, even if it was as wild as always; something about how rugged it was seemed to suit him. I saw it in his eyes: that challenge. The words he’d delivered yesterday went unchallenged, and without my response, it made me curious if he wanted one.

Archer moved his arm, and the truck was placed into park.

‘Well, it seems unnecessary for you to ride the bus and your mom to get a ride from someone when I could just as easily take you both. That is if your mom is okay with it.’

Our eyes locked. Maybe I could silently tell him to fuck off, and he’d get it.

‘She is!’ Cruz beamed while walking toward Archer’s truck.

‘Cruz, wait…’ I started, but my son was already at the back passenger door, where Archer had met him. He pulled on the handle, helped my son inside, and then turned toward me.

‘You sure you’re okay with me taking you?’

I hobbled toward the passenger side of his truck, biting back a bitchy response, and instead just smiled at him.

‘More than sure. Thank you so much for the offer.’

Asshole. Asshole. Asshole.

Archer walked with me, slow and measured, and then opened my door for me. I slid the crutch in first, then grabbed onto the door to pull myself up, but Archer sighed from behind me.

‘You already assume the worst about me, so I might as well prove you right.’ His hand went under my ass, and he pushed me up.

I let out a slight sound of surprise while glaring over my shoulder at him. He smirked, then shut the door in my face.

Once I was buckled, I realized that Cruz was in the back seat alone, buckled into the booster Kane had used the day before.

Archer slid into his truck and placed the gear into drive.

‘Kane isn’t with you?’

My neighbor gave me a bored look before driving down the street.

‘No, remember he doesn’t live with me.’

It was a dig at what I’d said to him, and while I knew I had delivered that barb, it seemed to cut coming from him.

‘I just mean, why offer us a ride if you weren’t even going to the school?’

‘Because riding the bus sucks,’ Archer replied as if I were a total moron.

Cruz laughed in agreement from the back seat.

I decided it was time to disengage from current company and stared out the window. The town passed by with a myriad of red brick buildings, fresh signage, and new display windows boasting of autumn. The newer and certainly more popular coffee shop was packed to the brim and even had people waiting outside, and I smirked at their ignorance.

The good coffee was served in a spot only locals knew about. Curious how busy it would be, I shifted my head until I could see the gas station over on Larch, and sure enough, only a few cars were parked in front, and even fewer were primed to get gas. Orlo’s wasn’t a big enough name for any of the newer transplants to visit. Not for gas or coffee, but several people were moving about inside.

Best coffee in town.

‘Do you need me to stop and get you anything?’ Archer suddenly asked from beside me. ‘Maybe coffee?’

I turned away from the window. ‘No, my coworker is planning to stop and get me some.’

Archer scoffed, then flexed his jaw.

I ignored him until we pulled in front of Cruz’s school. Once I said my goodbyes, Archer exited the truck just like the last time he’d driven us and walked my son to the crossing guard to ensure he could cross safely. And just like the last time, my heart felt like a balloon had been inserted into my chest, and something was now about to pop. Why did he insist on being so kind?

Why did he look like the typical bad boy I should avoid at all costs but act better than any man I’d ever met?

Archer slid back into his seat, steering us away from the school. I forced my face forward, so it didn’t seem like I had been staring.

‘Where are we going?’

He glanced over. ‘I’m assuming this coworker is Brian?’

I didn’t respond because I knew from their last interaction that he didn’t care for Brian or my association with him. But I was a little surprised that he even remembered his name.

Archer pushed on, unphased by my silence, ‘He can keep his coffee. I’ll stop for you.’

Something crackled under my chest, a tiny fire lit with no purpose and no right being there.

My gaze had snapped over to the side of his face, needing to see his expression and replace a way to dig underneath it. My brain screamed at me to uncover why he was so set on showing me kindness when I had done nothing to deserve it. My voice was frail as I finally found a way to reply. ‘It’s fine. He probably already grabbed it.’

Archer kept his stare on the road as he turned the truck into one of the spaces of the gas station. My mouth parted as he slipped out of his seat belt.

‘How did you know this was the place to go?’

He wasn’t from around here and shouldn’t know our little local secret.

A smirk lifted his lips as he focused on my mouth. ‘You were staring at this place, practically drooling all over my seats.’

‘I was no—’ I jumped in to argue, but he cut me off with another smirk.

‘Not that I’d mind you getting my seat wet, but I’d like you caffeinated first.’

With that, he shut his door and walked into the gas station. My mouth was still hanging open…because what the fuck?

My phone vibrated in my lap, forcing my attention away from the man striding into the gas station like he owned the place.

Glancing up, I watched Archer bypass the line inside to place my order. No one seemed angry with him; in fact, everyone was smiling at him as he leaned over the counter, talking to Joey, the owner and barista.

I hated how that kernel in my chest felt warmer while I watched him. Heaving a sigh, I looked down at my screen and punched out a reply.

Archer returned minutes later. He’d gotten me a bagel with cream cheese and my favorite coffee.

‘How did you know I liked these?’

He shrugged. ‘I asked Joey if he knew your order.’

Clever. So stupidly clever.

I hated the way my mouth twitched in a smile and how he was being so nice to me when I knew he was pissed at me. Or maybe he didn’t care enough about me to care how I behaved…but he seemed upset the last time we’d interacted with each other.

‘Well, thanks. What do I owe you for the coffee and bagel?’ I asked, feeling my hands warm as I held both items. He’d started driving and hadn’t asked me where I worked yet.

‘Answers, Wren. Our game is still in play.’

That warmth in my chest moved lower when he said my name.

‘What do you want to know?’

Sipping my coffee, I ignored how he began navigating toward my job. I had no idea how he knew where I worked, but I wouldn’t question it. He seemed resourceful, and maybe he was just guessing.

Archer glanced over once, then shifted his hand on the steering wheel.

‘Is Wren your real name?’

My heart skipped a beat, and I could feel the color drain from my face.

‘Why would you ask me that?’

He shrugged, glancing over once, and I saw a small, cruel smile curve his lips. ‘Because I have a hunch about you, and I’m curious if I’m right.’

‘What hunch?’ My heart slammed into my chest.

I’d created my entire persona so that I’d blend in. I’d picked a name that presented my new life, this new role I had to play where I embraced change, but I was easily overlooked. People ignored me, forgot me, passed by me without a second glance.

Why was this man suddenly here, lifting the lid on my life and using a magnifying glass to inspect it all?

His blue eyes found mine again as we slowed.

‘That tattoo on your arm…’

With a slight laugh and shrug, I sipped my coffee. ‘It’s just a black heart; it doesn’t mean anything.’

Archer’s eyes found me again before he turned his steering wheel.

‘The point of this game is that we’re honest with each other…as a way to get to know one another. Try again. You’re nervous, which means I’m hitting close to home.’

I could push him again, but something relaxed me when I saw all of his tattoos. There were things I wanted to know about him, too; maybe I could use this to my advantage.

With another quick sip of my coffee, I considered how much to reveal.

‘I assume you know which gang this symbol is tied to?’

Archer nodded slowly with a quick flick of his blue eyes.

‘El Peligro. Everyone on the East Coast knows that tattoo.’

Blinking, I pushed past the way the sound of my family’s legacy washed over me. It felt like someone had found an old photograph and started sharing all the sordid secrets about it instead of asking about it.

‘Well, you asked why I have it. I was a teenager caught up in the wrong crowd. I wanted to be a part of something, so when I was eighteen, I got the ink. I thought this guy would stay with me, but he didn’t. End of story.’

‘Was it Cruz’s dad?’ Archer’s curious gaze snared me.

I shook my head. ‘No. Matt, that’s Cruz’s dad… he’s in prison.’

Archer was looking at the road again, but his jaw tensed as if something I said bothered him.

‘Were you guys married?’

What?

‘No…we weren’t even together for long. It was quick, mostly physical, and then developed into something deeper from there. Then, he shot someone in broad daylight and went to prison for manslaughter. When I reached out about Cruz, he never replied. It’s been five years, haven’t heard from him since.’

The lie about my connection to El Peligro was supposed to slip from my tongue easily enough; instead, he’d asked other questions now mixed in truth. I felt the odd need to go back and correct what I’d said so he knew what was real and what wasn’t. There was another part of me that wanted to tell him the truth of why I’d gotten this tattoo. My father told me I needed to show my loyalty to the family with the ink. I had only been thirteen when he’d had me sit in that chair and have someone permanently brand my skin with an emblem that belonged to his legacy. Not mine.

‘Your last name…’

‘Vasquez is a common last name.’ I cut him off while working around the knot in my throat.

Did he know my father or worse…my brother?

We were approaching the model home where my office was located. I grabbed my laptop bag and shifted closer to the door, ready to bail, when Archer leaned over the console and covered the seatbelt buckle with his hand.

‘You never answered me. Is Wren your real name?’

No.

I swallowed. ‘Yeah….’

He stared at me longer than he needed to.

Lowering my face to break the contact, I shifted to the edge of my seat. ‘Thank you for the ride, but you really don’t need to help me. We don’t have to be friends just because your brother and my son seem to be.’

Now more than ever, I needed him out of my life. He was too close to everything I was trying to hide from.

Archer searched my face as if he was two seconds from calling me on my shit.

‘More judgment…nearly forgot you don’t like to be associated with people like me.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘By people like you, do you mean hot, single men who show kindness to single moms? Because yeah, I don’t need that.’

His smile was slow and completely perfect. ‘You think I’m hot?’

I pushed open the door, reaching for my crutch as I heard Archer laughing from behind me. He had opened his door and rounded the truck to help me.

‘So your aversion to me isn’t because of my ‘gang,’ but because of my handsome face?’

Keeping my face down, I situated the crutch under my arm and tossed my laptop bag over my neck, holding my coffee in my free hand. Archer gently shut my door, waiting for me to reply.

‘My aversion is to complications and to dangerous people being around my son. Your club is dangerous, which means you’re dangerous. So, yes, I have an aversion to you. I’m not judging you. I’m just doing everything I can to keep my son safe.’

I watched as his face contorted from happy and playful to hurt. I’d done it again, but I said the wrong thing.

‘You don’t think your son is safe around me?’

My lungs burned with the need to protect this little world I’d been hiding inside. Just tell him a lie, that he wasn’t safe, even if deep down I knew he was and that I was in denial and scared. A piece of me wove together a picture of him being in our lives. He’d become a proverbial postcard pinned to my fridge with the world’s strongest magnet. No matter how I buried the image every chance I got, it existed in my subconscious each time I closed my eyes.

But what if I said yes and let him in, and he ripped the rug out from under me? What if he was the best thing that ever happened to us, and then he left, or he did something that got him arrested? I couldn’t do that again. I refused to risk my heart or my son’s for someone who could break us both. It was a lie, one that was crafted as a shield to protect us. An invisible shield to keep him out, and while it hurt me to do it, I knew deep down I had to.

‘No, I don’t think he is. You’re the president of a one percenter motorcycle club, correct?’

His jaw worked back and forth.

‘I am.’

‘Then that’s answer enough for me. Your club is dangerous, which means you’re dangerous. I have to do what’s best for my son.’

He stared at me, his pillow-soft lips pursed tight as if he were keeping his thoughts at bay.

Then, without another word, he walked back toward his door, and with a loud slam, he reversed and drove away.

This time a few of those fucking tears slipped free as if the fears I had over losing control of my life had finally manifested into an ugly virus that kept all potential happiness at bay.