Page 42 of Joker

That tells me enough.

Logan comes down the last step and looks at me once. Just once. That’s all it takes.

He reads the whole situation the way men like him do, fast and clean and without needing half the explanation most people would.

“Everything quiet?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Anybody follow?”

“No.”

He nods once, trusting that answer completely. Then his attention shifts to Raven and he reins his presence down the way good leaders know how to when they’re trying not to make something already tense worse.

“Raven,” he says. “I’m Logan.”

Her grip tightens on the backpack strap. “Hi.”

“This is safe ground,” he tells her. “We’ll get you settled tonight. Anything else can wait till morning.”

She looks at him for one long second, like she’s trying to decide whether she believes that. Then she nods.

Emma steps closer. “You hungry? Thirsty? Need a shower? Just want to lie down and not talk to anybody?”

That last one nearly gets a smile out of Raven.

Nearly.

“Lie down sounds nice,” she says softly.

“Then that’s what we’re doing,” Emma replies immediately, like there is no other possible answer.

Mac reaches for the duffel before I can shift it higher on my shoulder. “I’ll take that.”

I hand it over.

No point pretending I need to carry everything myself.

Still, as the women close in around Raven and start guiding the whole thing forward with that particular kind of female competence men like us are smart enough not to interfere with, I become uncomfortably aware of something I hadn’t really let myself think about on the drive back.

This is temporary. That’s the whole point.

Temporary room. Temporary hideout. Temporary safety until something more permanent gets figured out.

I knew that before I ever crossed into Louisiana.

Doesn’t stop the thought from landing wrong now. Doesn’t stop me from hating it a little.

Inside, the clubhouse quiets in a strange ripple as we step through the door. Not fully, because that would be impossible in this place, but enough that every brother within sight notices and then very carefully pretends not to stare too hard.

It’s not subtle.

Cain is leaned against the bar and actually chokes on his drink when he sees me carrying a sleeping little girl while a dark-haired woman in my sweatshirt follows behind.

Jimmy, sitting at one of the tables with Landon, just slowly lowers his beer and mutters, “Well, that’s new.”

I don’t break stride. But I do cut a look across the room sharp enough to make three grown men suddenly find the wall deeply fascinating.