Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC Book Book 8)

by Anne Malcom

  “Lizzie,” Amy croaked, red tinging her cheeks.

  I glared at her. “No,” I roared. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I want you to leave.”

  She flinched like I’d struck her. I felt guilty, but still angry enough to keep my glare in place.

  Her emerald eyes measured me, likely trying to figure out if she could talk me down. Reading me correctly, she picked up her purse from the table.

  “Fine, I’ll leave. I’m not going to apologize for doing this, though. Even though you’re right, I did invade your privacy. I should’ve told you. But I can guarantee what would’ve happened if I had tried to talk to you about this. Nothing. You would’ve shut down. Retreated back. Just when you were finally venturing out. Living again. There’s something that makes you push away happiness. The future.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I get it. You’re trying so hard to hold on to the past, to hold on to him, you can’t grip anything else. You certainly can’t build any kind of life other than the one you’d had with him. You can’t grow into someone different than you were when you were with him. Because then he’s further away. I get that, honey. Not in the same way, I’m sure. But I do understand. So I’m not going to be sorry for this. For fighting for my friend. For trying to show her that she has a future.”

  She left after that.

  Luckily, she left the champagne too.

  I was pretty much drunk by the time the door opened then closed quietly. We hadn’t come to any kind of verbal agreement, but every night Kace came. Sometimes early enough to have dinner with Jack and Lily. To read Lily a story. To talk to Jack about plans for the car.

  Other times it was so late he woke me up with his lips between my legs.

  But he always came.

  I never slept alone.

  He still snuck out before the sun came up, before the kids woke up. Then he strolled in again around breakfast time, acting like he hadn’t just left a few hours before. No way was I ready to have them knowing Kace slept over, though.

  It was bad enough I was becoming used to him being there. Relying on it.

  Though tonight, I wasn’t. Tonight was a bad night for him to come. I should’ve called and told him that. But I got distracted. By Amy’s words. With the deal in front of me. Then with the champagne.

  His footsteps echoed through the quiet house.

  I didn’t look up when he entered the room. I kept staring at the number on the page. Amy was right. It was a big number. Now, I might not know a lot about the current state of the publishing industry, but I knew first-time authors were not getting deals like this every day.

  Amy had to have pulled strings. She had many to tug on. Her family name carried weight.

  It couldn’t have been me. My story. My pain.

  “The door wasn’t locked,” Kace growled.

  Not a good growl.

  A pissed one. I rarely saw Kace really pissed. Nor heard it. He was an easy-going guy, outside of the bedroom at least.

  I blinked, looking at the clock, at the darkness that had engulfed the twilight in what seemed liked minutes, then at the empty bottle of champagne.

  “I forgot,” I answered lamely.

  “You forgot?” Kace repeated.

  I nodded. “Yes, I’ve got a lot on my mind tonight.”

  “I should fuckin’ think so, in order to forget that some asshole in a suit is borderline obsessed with you and that you’re alone with the fuckin’ kids after downin’ what I’m guessing is an entire bottle of booze.”

  I snapped my head up. He was really pissed. And that made me pissed. Mostly because he was right. I’d been sitting here, wallowing and drinking while night fell, my kids asleep, thinking their mother was going to keep them safe when instead, she was too self-absorbed to lock the fucking door.

  “I had a fight with Amy,” I muttered.

  Kace looked taken aback, still pissed, but surprised. He’d most likely been expecting me to argue with him, since that was what I did about almost everything.

  “Okay, that sucks, babe. But you still need to lock the fuckin’ door when you’re in here.” He grabbed a hold of me so I was standing, supporting most of my weight. Which was good, since I was pretty sure I might’ve fallen over if I’d been forced to stand on my own.

  His lips went to my forehead. “You’re precious,” he murmured. “All of you. And this world is full of assholes who like to steal and tarnish precious things. So I’m gonna need you to set the alarm and lock the fuckin’ door. ‘Kay?”

  I nodded, although I should’ve been pissed that he was ordering me around. He wasn’t wrong, though.

  “What did you and Amy fight about, baby?” he asked after a beat, all anger gone from his voice.

  That was Kace. He had been pissed. Really pissed. Now he wasn’t. He wasn’t going to hold it against me, act like an asshole all night. He said what he’d had to say, and we were moving on.

  On to a topic I really, really did not want to talk about.

  “Are you a math genius?” I asked instead of answering.

  He blinked in surprise again. “A math genius?” he repeated.

  I nodded. “Like Rain Man.”

  He smiled now. “Rain Man was not a math genius, he was an all-around genius. But I’m not any kind of genius. Just good with numbers. Shit with words. Always get them jumbled up. Now I know it’s dyslexia, but shitty public schools and foster parents who didn’t give a shit just thought I was stupid or a troublemaker. Which I was, since I got too frustrated, embarrassed that I couldn’t do the work. No one wanted to help me. Fuck, even if they did, there were too many kids that needed help, and just one underpaid, exhausted teacher to try and stretch herself across them.”

  I thought of my childhood. Of the small classrooms in our small town. Mostly caring teachers. Very few speed bumps. Reading came easy. Math didn’t, but I had a father who sat with me after dinner and talked me through all of my homework, rewarding me with ice cream my mother only let me have on weekends.

  I’d had plenty of people around me who cared, who had wanted to help when I was struggling, pick me up when I stumbled.

  Then I thought of my kids, who had the same thing. Or had up until a year ago. Since then, there were nothing but speed bumps. But even then, they were surrounded by people who loved them.

  My heart broke for young Kace, without parents, extended family, with adults all around him who ignored him at best and mistreated him at worst. Then I marveled at the man he’d become.

  “Math was the one thing that came easy to me. That felt steady.” He shrugged. “I liked being good at something. And, like any kid who came from nothing, I quickly figured out the best ways to make money out of it. When I patched in to the club, I shared this ability that I’d honed. Figured out ways to make money in legit ways. Not legal by any means, but criminals wearing ten thousand-dollar suits commit those same crimes in broad daylight, so the world has figured out a way to palette that shit more.”

  “And you’re making our club money?” I clarified, my champagne drunk brain having trouble following on with all of this information. Realizing that Kace was so much more than he seemed. So much more than a hot guy who was great in bed.

  Kace shrugged again. “You could say that.”

  I stared at him, really stared. “You’re amazing,” I whispered. “What you’ve come from. What you’ve made of yourself. You’re truly amazing.”

  Something moved across his face, something serious. Intense. “Babe, I survived foster care, most kids do that. Patched in to an outlaw motorcycle club. Wouldn’t call any of that amazing.”

  There was something about the way he said that. Not humility. Vulnerability. He truly didn’t believe me. Why would he? He’d had a lifetime of people treating him like he wasn’t worth something. That he wasn’t somebody. I’d been sleeping with him for months now, yet I’d been too deep in my own head to realize that he needed things. That he wasn’t as strong as he appeared to be. That I’d been fucki
ng selfish in my bid to protect my heart.

  I’d left his out in the cold.

  I stepped forward, clutching his neck. “No, you listen to me Kace...” I trailed off. “Oh, my God. I don’t even know your last name. We’ve been getting all heartfelt and intense, fucked in every way people can fuck and you eat breakfast with my kids. You need to tell me your last name.”

  Kace chuckled, not at all horrified or offended about this. “Renyolds, babe. Not a big deal.”

  I scowled. “It is a big deal. If we are really doing this, if I’m really your Old Lady—”

  “You are,” he interrupted.

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, whatever. I need to know things like your last name. And if you’re Rain Man of the stock market. And I need you to believe that I think you’re amazing”

  Kace’s eyes were soft. Liquid gold. “Okay, Lizzie.”

  “I’m serious,” I snapped. “Let me show you you’re amazing.”

  My hands moved from his neck, down his torso, cupping him on the outside of his jeans.

  “Oh, you can totally fucking show me in any way you’d like,” Kace rasped.

  So I did.

  Then he showed me he thought I was pretty amazing too.

  “What did you and Amy fight about?” Kace asked me again later.

  I was halfway asleep, the alcohol and orgasms helping me drift off within seconds of Kace finishing and cleaning me up. Not something he did normally, it felt too intimate and weird. I’d preferred the separation that came from going to the bathroom, closing the door and taking care of myself after sex.

  It took the intimacy out of it. Which was the most important thing with Kace.

  The champagne and orgasms made me forget about that. And they’d also made the idea of getting up and walking to the bathroom far too tiring.

  Kace had immediately brought me into his arms when he finished. I’d tried to fight the cuddling. Again, too intimate. It worked at the start. Kace was still being careful around me. Still figuring out just how fucked up I was. How breakable.

  But then I got lax. Or maybe Kace had finally figured me out. Whatever the reason, he took charge. Gave me not much of a chance for escape. Sure, he would’ve let me go if I’d asked, but tonight I wasn’t strong enough to ask.

  And no matter what I tried to tell myself, I liked being held by him. Even if I had moments of pure panic and guilt. Moments I’d tense up, roll out of bed and cry in the bathroom for ten minutes.

  “She invaded my privacy,” I murmured. “Made decisions for me that weren’t hers to make.” I hadn’t planned on telling him the specifics of the fight. Or even anything vague. But I was feeling sleepy, warm, safe.

  Kace squeezed me a little harder. “So, I’m new here and definitely don’t pretend to be any kind of expert on female friendships, but from what I can see, all the Old Ladies seem to be solid. Fucking insane of course. But willing to cut off a limb for their friends. Who they consider their family.”

  I pursed my lips because I couldn’t argue with him. Even though I wanted to.

  “I also know Amy. Who, if you get on the wrong side of, is scarier than Bull and Gage combined. But, if you get into her heart, she’ll do anything for you. You’re in everyone’s hearts, babe. Not knowing the specifics, I can’t say much for sure, but I will bet whatever she did, she did out of love. She did it because she thought she was doing something right for you, good for you.”

  “Why is it that you’re younger yet so fucking wise?” I snapped, pissed that he was being so reasonable, making so much sense. I was also pissed that we were laying here after sex, talking about something like this. It was a different kind of intimacy, a more dangerous kind.

  “I’m still mad,” I grumbled when Amy opened the door.

  She grinned. “I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”

  The door closed behind me, and I went straight for the living room. The house was decorated in an impeccable, impossibly expensive way, but also in a way that didn’t make you scared to sit on her sofa.

  “Do you want wine?” she offered.

  “It’s eleven in the morning,” I pointed out.

  “I’ll put some orange juice in it.”

  I really wanted to grin, but I had a hangover to nurse, so instead I just nodded with pursed lips. She smiled and disappeared.

  I looked at the photos spaced expertly between very expensive looking prints and pieces of art. There were many of her and Gwen from their time before Amber, looking amazing, laughing, smiling, cocktails in hand. A couple of her, Gwen and Ian. I stared at those the hardest, wondering when I might feel like I could have photos of Ranger mixed in with old and new memories. Of course, we had many photos of him around the house, but I’d made an art out of never actually looking at them.

  All I wanted was to take them down, so I wasn’t faced with the fact that he only lived in photographs now. But my kids needed to see their dad. Remember him, know that he was still a part of their home and their hearts.

  “Mimosas!” Amy announced, thankfully jerking me from my melancholic wonderings.

  I took the flute thankfully.

  She sat across from me, eyes meeting mine. “So, you want to start in with the bitch fight or have a drink first?” she quipped. “Then again, it’s most likely going to be a one-sided bitch fight since I’m not mad at you, and I’m not the bitch fighter I used to be in my younger days.”

  “I fear my bitch fighting days are behind me too,” I replied, although I’d never really had any bitch fighting days. “I’m just here to talk. To apologize. I shouldn’t have come at you like I did.”

  Amy raised a perfectly manicured brow. “Girl, yes you had a total right to. I was way out of line. I should’ve talked to you first. But I knew talking to you wouldn’t have made you believe me. Believe in yourself. So I made a choice. One that I don’t regret. “

  I chewed my lip. I’d been doing a lot of thinking this morning. Had gone over the publishing deal after Kace and the kids left. Not that I knew a whole lot about such things, but I knew that number was fucking big. I also knew that Amy was smart. She most likely had a very fancy and expensive lawyer look over the deal before she brought it to me. Kace’s words had followed me throughout the morning too. He was right. She had done this out of love. Goodness.

  Still, I was pissed.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not happy about what you did,” I pinned her with my stare. “This was something private. Something I hadn’t told anyone about, something that you should’ve waited for me to reveal instead of invading my privacy.”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s get to the part where you talk about how you’ll forgive me, and we’ll get on a jet and head to New York,” she chirped.

  I blinked. “Jet. New York?”

  “Uh, duh,” she rolled her eyes. “They’re waiting for you to get back to them so we can organize a meeting. I’ll be coming as your stylist and friend and also because I am in serious need of a Fifth Avenue fix.”

  “We can’t go to New York,” I countered. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

  “It’s the perfect time to go then,” she argued. “I highly doubt that your would-be killer is going to find themselves on a jet or be able to afford a room at The Ritz. We’re going.”

  “I haven’t agreed.”

  She grinned. “You’re going to.”

  She was right.

  I was going to.

  Not just because of the number and what it would mean for my kids and their future. What I could give them with just that number.

  It was mostly because what it would mean to me. Something more. Something different. A dream I hadn’t let myself have. Even though it scared the shit out of me. Even more than the person potentially trying to kill me.

  “Kace isn’t going to be happy,” I frowned.

  “Another plus!” Amy exclaimed. “Pissing off the alpha male is all part of the process. Plus, makeup sex. We’ll call him from the jet.�
��

  “Wait,” I demanded, holding up my hand as Amy tapped on her phone. “We can’t go today.”

  She glanced up. “Why not?”

  Holy crap, she was serious. “First, we both have kids. Second, I can’t just have my kids coming home from school and me not be there. Third, I’m pretty sure that a big publishing company won’t take a meeting at such short notice. Fourth, I have nothing to wear to such an important meeting. So there, four reasons.”

  Amy grinned wider. “We both have men to look after said kids. And if you don’t want your man to look after them, you’ve got a mother-in-law, Evie and about six other women who would happily let them stay, and who your kids would love to stay with. We’ll book the jet for later this afternoon so you can pick up the kids and give them the lowdown. The publishing company will move shit around for me, rather for you, so we’ll do it tomorrow morning. A breakfast meeting. I know the woman at Chanel. She’ll keep it open for us. All problems solved.”

  “Chanel?” I repeated. “I cannot afford Chanel.”

  Amy raised her brow. “Honey, did you not see that number? You can totally afford Chanel. Beyond that, any woman walking into a meeting that is going to change the course of her life is like... obligated to wear Chanel.”

  “This is too crazy,” I whispered.

  “Which is exactly why we’re doing it. You need crazy.”

  I should’ve argued harder. Stayed in my safe zone. Told her I’d take a phone meeting. Or something a little less spontaneous.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, I told the kids about the situation. Both were absolutely fucking elated. Well, in their own ways. Beyond that, they were more than happy to stay with Evie.

  I hugged them close, inhaled their smells and left them, though, it felt wrong and hurtful. I called Kace from the plane.

  He was not happy.

  Like, at all.

  But he couldn’t do anything about it.

  Amy and I shopped at Chanel. I got the most kickass outfit that made me feel like someone who belonged in a fancy meeting in downtown Manhattan. Amy used her credit card when I wasn’t looking and waved me off when I tried to fight to give her cash. She informed that the only reimbursement she wanted was to meet Chris Hemsworth when he played my male main character in the movie version.