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"What the hell for?" I should have known this bitch was going to be a problem.
"I just thought…"
"That was your first mistake," Harley growls.
"Fuck you, " Sage hisses.
Harley lunges for Sage but Wrath grabs her around the waist and pulls her back.
"Why were you fucking with my girl?" Fuck, there I go again.
"Your girl?" Sage’s eyes narrow before she quickly recovers. "I was just talking to her," she lies, crossing her arms over her chestdefensively. "Not my fault your new little whore can't handle the truth."
My fists clench at my sides as I look over my shoulder at Harley. "Where is Oakland?"
Harley jerks her thumb toward the clubhouse. "She took the girls inside when this one started running her mouth. They're probably in the kitchen."
I hurry towards the clubhouse, leaving Wrath to deal with Sage and her bullshit.
Pushing through the backdoor of the clubhouse, I hear soft voices coming from the kitchen.
I can’t hear what they’re saying but judging by the giggles that follow they all seem to be okay.
When I round the corner into the kitchen, I find Oakland, Mila, and Morgan, huddled around the stainless-steel island with a plate of cookies between them.
"Everything okay in here?" I ask carefully, my eyes going straight to Oakland's to gauge her mood.
She gives me a small smile, but I can see the tension around her eyes. "We're fine. Just needed a little break." I nod, reading between the lines. She didn’t want either of our little girls to see the drama happening out back.
“Daddy, why was that lady yelling at Harley?” Mila asks before shoving a cookie in her mouth.
I sigh, brushing my hand across the top of her head. “I don’t know, baby. But Uncle Wrath is taking care of it. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Oakland stands up, brushing crumbs from her hands. “I think it's probably time for us to head out. It's getting late.”
A pang of disappointment hits me, but I keep my mouth shut. I have no claim or say when it comes to Oakland.
For now.
“Let me walk you out?”
Her eyes search mine for a moment before she nods. “Finish your cookie, Morgy.”
Morgan looks down at the cookie in her hand, shrugs, then shoves the whole thing in her mouth.
“Really?” Oakland laughs, using her thumb to wipe away the smeared chocolate from the corners of her daughter’s mouth.
After cleaning up the kitchen, we gather up the girls' things and make our way to the parking lot.
As we approach Oakland’s car, I can’t help but notice how she keeps glancing over her shoulder like she’s expecting someone to pop out. "Something wrong?"
Her head swings around, her eyes lifting to mine. "What?"
"You keep looking around." I thumb behind me where she keeps looking.
She glances ahead at Morgan and Mila, then shakes her head. "It’s nothing."
"Babe."
