Page 3 of The Biker and the Single Mom

She looks up at me, tears threatening. "Why? You don't even know us. Why would you help?"

Because I couldn't save everyone in Afghanistan. Because my hands shake in the dark with memories of the ones I lost. Because standing between you and danger is the only thing that makes me feel like I'm worth something.

"Because somebody should," I say instead.

Luna's bowl clatters against the coffee table, nearly empty. The kid's fighting a losing battle with sleep, her eyes drooping, her small body swaying.

"Mr. Doctor?" Luna's voice comes out soft and slurred.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Will you stay? So the bad air doesn't come back?"

Something in my chest cracks wide open. "I'll stay. I promise."

Luna nods, satisfied, and before her mother can stop her, she's sliding off the couch and climbing up next to me. She burrows into my side like it's the most natural thing in the world, her small body warm and trusting against mine.

"Luna—" her mother starts, mortified.

"It's fine." And it is. More than fine. Luna's head grows heavy on my shoulder, her breathing deep and even, Mr. Hops trapped between us. This tiny kid who doesn't know me from Adam just decided I'm safe enough to sleep on.

When was the last time anyone trusted me like that?

The woman stares at us, her expression unreadable. "She doesn't—she's usually so shy with strangers."

"Kids know," I say quietly, careful not to wake Luna. "They can tell who's safe."

"Can they?" Her voice holds something I can't quite name. "Because I used to think I could tell too. Turned out I was wrong."

The ex-husband. The cop who won't let go.

Luna's fully asleep now, her small fist clutching my shirt. I shift carefully, standing with her in my arms. She makes a small sound of protest but doesn't wake, just curls closer.

"Come on," I say. "Let's get her into bed."

The woman follows me into my bedroom, and I lay Luna down as gently as I can. She burrows into the pillow, clutching her bunny, breathing steady and even.

"I'm Cole," I say, keeping my voice low so I don't wake her. "But everyone calls me Doc."

"Doc." She says it like she's testing the weight of it. "I'm Rory. And that's Luna."

"Rory." The name fits her. Strong underneath the exhaustion. "Stay as long as you need. Days, weeks—however long it takes for you to figure things out."

"I can't⁠—"

"You can. And you will." I grab a blanket from the closet, hand it to her. "Bathroom's through that door. There's towels, and my shower actually has hot water. You should—" I gesture vaguely at her rumpled clothes, the exhaustion radiating off her. "Get comfortable. Get some rest."

She clutches the blanket. "Thank you. For everything."

"Don't thank me yet." I head for the door. "Haven't done anything worth thanking."

"You took us in. No questions, no judgment. Just—" Her voice cracks. "Just helped. That's worth everything."

I don't have an answer for that, so I just nod and pull the door mostly closed behind me. Not all the way—need to be able to hear if Luna has trouble breathing—but enough to give them privacy.

The couch creaks when I drop onto it. I should try to sleep, but my brain won't shut off. Too wired from the adrenaline, from the medical emergency, from⁠—

From Rory.