Run To Me

Chapter 6 - Griffin

The diner door shuts behind us, but I feel like I'm still inside, still in the booth. My head is so much louder than it should be. I don’t usually get stuck like this. My gaze drifts to her again before I can stop it.

Loralie.

Up close, the abuse she suffered—and the bruise—is evident. I haven’t decided if that makes it worse… or something else entirely.

But beyond that, I see her.

The freckles are the first thing that catches me. Scattered across her cheeks and nose. Soft. Natural. They stand out even more against her pale skin, dusted with that constant blush. But she’s not just a pretty face. Even under the oversized clothes, I can see the softness of her hourglass shape—the curve of her hips, the fullness in her chest. Her copper hair catches the light, like the orange hues of a sunset. And those eyes… those bright grey-blue eyes I’ve never seen before.

My jaw tightens slightly. I’ve never been a fan of the too-thin type. Never saw the appeal.

But this? This feels like something meant to be held and cherished. That thought hits harder than it should. I shut it down just as fast. Because right there, cutting through all of it, is the bruise on her cheek. Dark against everything soft. Wrong. Completely wrong. My jaw locks. Someone put that there. Someone thought they had the right to touch her like that. A slow, controlled anger settles in my chest, low and steady.

Then there’s the other thing. The comment. I drag a hand over my jaw, annoyed with myself.

“You’re too pretty…”

The hell was that?I don’t say things like that. Not to strangers. Not to women I just met. But watching her bite her lip like that—like she didn’t even realise she was hurting herself—it got under my skin.

Still is.

I glance at her again. She’s standing there, clutching that bag like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

I shake my head and refocus on the task at hand. If I keep staring at her I’m gonna have a whole new problem to deal with…

“There’s one thing,” I say. Her eyes lift slightly. “I only have my bike with me.”

There’s hesitation. Fear flickers across her face. Makes sense. I want to reach out and touch her to calm her down, but I restrain myself. Instead, I lean down so we are more eye level. I see now how much shorter she is to me, and that might be intimidating.

“It’s safe,” I add. “I don’t drive recklessly when I have a passenger.” She pauses for a moment, then gives me a small nod.

“Okay.” She says in that soft, quiet tone.

We walk to the bike in silence. Reaching into my side bag, I pull out the helmet I never use—glad I didn’t get rid of it.

“I’m gonna put this on you, okay?” I ask.

That small nod again.

I place the helmet over her head, lifting her chin so I can fasten it properly. For a second, I watch her as she shifts her backpack onto her back. I climbed onto the bike to steady it first and wave her over once I’m ready. She hesitates, then swings her leg over. I can feel the tension radiating from her. She’s not sure what to do with her hands as they hover before settling at her sides.

“Darlin’, it’s okay to touch me.” Cautiously, I take her hands and wrap them around my waist. “Hold on just like this, ok?” I instruct, and she nods. Once I start the engine her grip on me tightens. And when we start moving, it tightens even more. She presses against me, and I feel all of it.

The softness pressed against my back. Her warmth, the way she fits there without even trying. I force my focus forward, eyes locked on the road. Because my brain? It’s trying to go somewhere I don’t need it to go. Not now and not like this. I shut the thought down hard.

I keep the ride smooth. No sharp turns. No sudden speed. Just steady. After a few minutes, her grip changes. Still there, but not panicked anymore. She trusts me to keep her safe, even if she herself doesn’t realise it. That thought hits deeper than anything else so far. By the time we pull up to the clubhouse, the sun’s dipping low, I cut the engine. For a second, neither of us moves. Then her arms slowly loosen.

I hold my hand out to her, “Take it easy, stepping off.” I say. She takes my hand with even less hesitation this time. I take off the helmet, noticing her eyes are glued to the clubhouse.

Inside, it’s quiet—for now at least. Won’t stay that way. “Come on,” I say, leading her upstairs. Getting her settled is the first priority. I open the office door, and I let her step inside first, then follow. I watch her take it all in—the bed, the couch, the bathroom tucked off to the side. It’s not much. But it’s safe. Private. No one’s getting in without her letting them.

“Finally!” A female voice cuts through the quiet. Hannah.

“I spent all day cleaning this place,” she starts, brushing past me. “Do you have any idea how bad it was up here?”

“I had it handled.”

She scoffs. “You absolutely did not,” She scolds. Then she sees Loralie. Just like that, she softens.

“Oh, hi.” Her voice turns warm instantly. “I’m Hannah.” She smiles, stepping closer. “I got you some things, clothes, basics. Took a bit to get your size, but we figured it out.”

Loralie’s eyes flick to the bags on the bed. “Thank you,” she says softly.

Hannah beams. “There’s a shower too,” she adds. “Think of it like a mini apartment.”

Loralie nods. “Okay.”

Headlights flash outside with the sound of engines. The guys are here. I look at Hannah.

“Will you stay with her?” I ask

“Obviously.”

I glance at Loralie one more time. “I’ll be downstairs.” She nods.

The second I hit the bottom floor, the energy shifts. It’s loud and alive. This would be normal, but tonight is different.

“Table,” I call. The word cuts clean through the room. Silence falls, the men look at one another, and then everyone moves to the meeting room. Once there settled I take my place at the head of the table.

“We’ve got a situation.” All eyes are now focused on me. “A girl is staying here in the clubhouse. She will earn her stay with work, but she is under our protection.” Murmurs ripple through the men.

Dale leans back in his chair. “Since when do we take in outsiders?” His tone shows his displeasure. A man stuck in his ways.

“Since now,” I say. Tension in the room follows

“What happens when trouble follows her?” Marcus asks, another older member.

“It won’t reach her here.”

“You don’t know that.” He remarks.

My gaze locks on his. “I know enough.”

“What’s the story, Griff?” Christian, my vice president, asks.

I exhale. “She’s running from her husband.” The tension doesn’t ease. “It’s not a couple's dispute,” I continue. “It’s years of abuse.” That lands hard with the men.

“And you brought that here,” Dale says.

“Yeah. I did.” My tone was starting to get an edge to it. “I don’t do this often, but this isn’t a vote,” I say. “She stays. She works. She follows the rules.” I scan the room. “And she’s under our protection.”

That word settles deep. Dale studies me. “You staking the club on this?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in my voice.

Marcus exhales. “Then anyone who comes looking—”

“They answer to us.” I cut him off. This conversation is starting to piss me off, but finally, the room fills with nods. “Meeting adjourned.” The men stand and start to leave, but I don’t move right away.

“…You better be right about this,” Dale mutters under his breath. I choose to ignore the old codger.

My mind drifts back to the fragile girl upstairs. Her being here makes everything real. And the thoughts I’m already having about her…

I run a hand over my face.

Yeah.

She changes everything.