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

by Anne Malcom

  We stayed at the Ritz. It was the most opulent place I’d ever been. We ate at Per Se, which served food that had to have some kind of drugs in it, it was that good. We drank incredible cocktails.

  Then, the next morning, we meet with serious publishers. Who were totally fucking serious about giving me a book deal. An agent who was serious about representing me.

  Then we flew home. Amy on the jet. Me on cloud nine.

  Kace was totally fucking pissed when we got back.

  And Amy was right, the makeup sex was amazing.

  Out of this fucking world.

  Chapter 20

  “Lizzie! What a wonderful surprise,” Olive said, hugging me. We’d already had a champagne dinner together, celebrating my publishing deal. One of many dinners and parties thrown for me. Kace was beyond proud of me, but I’d banned him from acting like it because I still felt weird about it. He, of course, did not heed my ban and continued to buy my flowers and cook me dinners to celebrate.

  I relaxed into Olive’s embrace, soothed by the warmth of it, grateful she still wore the same perfume she’d had on the day I met her. It comforted me that some things stayed the same, even though everything else was different.

  Different meaning completely and utterly fucked.

  “What do I owe the pleasure?” Olive asked.

  “I was just in the neighborhood,” I lied.

  “The kids at school?”

  I nodded. I’d been tempted to wait till they got home so I could use them as some kind of buffer. But that would’ve made me feel like an even bigger fuck up. My stomach had been churning since Kace and I had gone public with our relationship. I’d been putting off this conversation, even though it was like a ticking time bomb. Olive may not move in the Sons of Templar circles, but she was around my kids, who were likely to talk about Kace at some point. It was hard to get Lily to stop talking about Kace. Fate had stepped in and Olive had had to work extra shifts at the hospital because of staffing issues, so we hadn’t seen her in almost three weeks. The kids missed her. I missed her. My worst fear was that the truth would create a chasm between us, and I’d lose her forever.

  “Well, come in. I’ll make some tea,” she offered, moving back to let me in. “I’d offer tequila, but I’m on shift tonight.”

  “Tea sounds great,” I replied weakly.

  The house was similar to how it had been when her and Ranger had first moved here. Feminine but not in a way that would make a teenage boy feel ashamed to be living there. It was warm. A plush green sofa with patterned pillows and soft throws on it. Vintage rugs covering the hardwood floors.

  Olive had a boyfriend, Bob. He was widowed ten years, owned the hardware store in town. They’d been together for almost five years but still had their own places and seemed perfectly content with that. Ranger had done his whole macho man, protective son thing at the beginning, but Bob was just too nice and genuine for my badass biker to continue his intimidation tactics.

  I was glad that Olive had that. Especially now.

  Framed photos of Ranger were displayed throughout the house. Pictures of our wedding. Each kid’s birth. All of our milestones collected over the years. These were all she’d ever have. There’d be no more photos of her son.

  Would his absence hit me the same every time I walked in here? Or would I figure out a way to deal with it? Get stronger so it didn’t hurt so bad. That was the cliché that everyone spouted about grief. That it didn’t change but you got better at being able to handle it.

  Honestly, that sounded like bullshit to me, because I’d never felt weaker than I did right then.

  I sat down at the small dining table while Olive made the tea, talking while she did so. The same scenario with my mother would’ve transpired in stilted silence. She would be judging my outfit (tight black jeans, spiked heel boots, a black silk blouse and silver jewelry on both wrists, all my fingers and around my neck), trying to set me up with some guy from her church whose mother still did his laundry.

  I felt guilty. Ashamed. Olive was sitting here, pouring me tea, chatting about how big the kids had gotten and helping me with ideas for Lily’s birthday. Doing it all with a smile that was pretty close to genuine, but not all the way there. As close to happiness as someone who had buried their only son would ever get.

  “I met someone,” I blurted, unable to sit there with my wonderful mother-in-law who treated me like I was her own daughter, keeping her oblivious to the fact that I was betraying her dead son.

  Olive stopped talking, blinked a couple of times, her smile still in place, mostly out of shock I guessed since I didn’t think she’d be happy about this.

  “I mean, it’s not serious or anything. The kids know him, but only because he transferred in to the club about a year and a half ago. They don’t know that he’s... anything more than that. I don’t even know what he is.”

  The words came out quickly, awkward and jumbled. I was trying to rip off the Band-Aid, doing it quickly, as if that would make her hate me any less.

  My body was taut, ready for the inevitable coldness that had to creep in to her gaze. The judgement. Disappointment.

  But none of it came.

  Olive reached over and squeezed my hand. “I think this is good,” she mused, voice soft and the same it had been moments before. No hatred or even veiled dislike.

  I stared at her. “You don’t hate me?”

  She laughed, the sound easy and kind. “Of course not, honey.” She squeezed my hand once more before she let it go. “I never expected you to stay single forever, young and beautiful as you are. In fact, it would’ve broken my heart if you didn’t try another version of happiness for yourself. You deserve it.” She paused. “In an ideal world, you would’ve stayed with my son forever. Whatever bumps in the road that came along, you’d overcome them together like you have before. You’d watch your kids grow up, Cody would walk Lily down the aisle.” She wiped a single tear from her eye. “And my son would outlive me. The way it’s meant to be. But, sweetie, we both know that this world isn’t ideal. It can be cruel. Horribly so. But I still have you. My grandchildren. Bob. There are plenty of reasons to continue living. Not merely surviving. Allowing yourself to live doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about Cody. Doesn’t mean you love him any less.”

  Her words sunk in to saturate all of my emotional wounds, like salt and salve at the same time. “Man, I really lucked out in the mother-in-law department,” I choked out.

  She grinned. “You totally did.”

  A weight had been lifted off my shoulders telling Olive. It also let me give myself permission to actually feel happy about this. Content. My kids were, with Jack trying his best to act like he wasn’t.

  Everyone at the club was happy, to say the least. Every single person there was a hopeless romantic, whether closeted or out in the open. I didn’t have any kind of hope for this becoming anything more than a relationship that didn’t make me hate myself. But I wasn’t about to burst anyone’s bubble.

  Not yet.

  Also, that was my mother’s job.

  With everyone else I was worried about, I’d forgotten about my mother and her unyielding disdain. Which was no mean feat. But my mother was, for the most part, out of my orbit. Sure, I made sure that the kids saw her at least once a month, occasionally joining them for dinners I gritted my teeth through. I sometimes ran into her in town and made painful conversation. But for the most part, when it came to my mother, my mind was on the quickest form of escape without some kind of bloodshed.

  So I was unprepared when she turned up at my house late on a Tuesday morning. As a rule, my mother did not go anywhere unannounced. She considered it to be the upmost form of rudeness. And she certainly did not turn up at my home unannounced when her grandchildren were not around.

  We didn’t do well without some kind of buffer, my mother and I. Kids worked best. My father. Any kind of strong booze in a pinch.

  But she’d definitely frown on me opening the vodka at ten in th
e morning. And I couldn’t exactly bar my own mother from entry, despite how bad things had gotten.

  I shouldn’t have called it bad, really. There were plenty of women in this world who didn’t have mothers. Whose mothers didn’t look after their children, who didn’t come to their home after their husband died, cleaning everything top to bottom daily because they didn’t know how else to show support.

  My mother was not a bad person. She just wasn’t proud of the person I was. The choices I had made. Sure, we weren’t the best of friends in high school, but there wasn’t this chasm between us that erupted as soon as Ranger decided to patch in, and I decided to marry him.

  I was at peace with the fact that this was our relationship. It sucked, but I had Olive. I had the opportunity to make sure I had a beautiful relationship with my daughter.

  But still, having a bone crushing sense of panic when your mother showed up at your home was not a good sign.

  At least she brought muffins. If I could say one good thing about my mother, the woman could bake. Especially her white chocolate and raspberry muffins.

  And she certainly was not a woman to show up empty handed.

  I let her in, mostly because of the muffins, partly because I had no other choice.

  Though she declined my offer of coffee, tea, juice or a bottle of water, which left me standing in the middle of the kitchen without anything to do with my hands.

  Luckily, my mother wasn’t one to beat around the bush and definitely not one to linger in her disappointing daughter’s home for longer than she needed to.

  “The kids have been telling me about a man,” my mother proclaimed, picking up the throw on my sofa and re-folding it. Her disproving gaze moved to the pillows. If she was here long enough, my entire house would be redecorated.

  That was not going to happen.

  “Yes, and?” I pressed, folding my arms and leaning against the breakfast bar. Sitting would give her the impression that I wanted her to stay a while.

  My tone helped move my mother’s attention from the cushions. “And, they’ve given me the impression that this man is around the house. Often. That he was in the same club as their father was.” Her voice was pure ice. “Elizabeth, please don’t tell me you’re that stupid.”

  I blinked. “Stupid?”

  “Yes. Stupid enough not only to bring some man you’ve been... sleeping with around your children. Not just that, but he’s also in that gang?”

  I took a deep breath. “You’ve lived in Amber your entire life. You spent Christmas with Ranger, however reluctantly. He is the father of your grandchildren. You can’t possibly be stupid enough to call them a gang when you know that’s not what they are.”

  The vein in my mother’s forehead started pulsing now. “I know that they are the reason that my grandchildren will grow up without a father. That they are the reason why you never lived up to your potential, never left this town. Yet after all of that, you’re still bewitched. You’re still willing to subject your children and yourself to more of that.”

  “What would you suggest I do, mom?” I hissed. “What? Should I cut all ties with the only family I’ve had the past ten years? The only family other than Olive. And dad, when he can escape from you. They don’t judge. They don’t offer their love or support with strings. They will come whenever I call, without questions. Every single one of the people in that club would die for me and my kids. So no. I’m not going to let you poison this.”

  I pushed away from the breakfast bar, walking toward the front door.

  “You’re always going to be my mother. My children’s grandmother. You will always have a place at my table, be welcome in my home. But only on the condition that your figure out how to keep your opinions to yourself. I know it’s hard. I know you might even mean well, in your own way. And I know you love the kids. Kids who have had something horrific tear apart their childhoods. So I won’t cut you out of their lives. They’ve lost enough already. You can continue to be nasty, but I won’t take it. I promise, you’ll lose my respect. That if you continue this way, our relationship will break. It’s up to you.”

  Then I walked away, hating that I wished for Olive instead of my mother. Hating that she might be right, just like she had been about Ranger leaving me.

  My mother didn’t call for a week. I hadn’t expected her to. She was far too proud to make contact any earlier. I half expected her not to make contact at all. It wouldn’t have surprised me.

  But she called, inviting herself to dinner the upcoming Saturday. “If that suits the kids and you and... your male companion.”

  I had stifled a giggle at my mother calling Kace a ‘male companion’ like I was eighty years old and had some widower courting me.

  But I told my mother that it would be ‘lovely’, even though that was not a word to describe what it would be. It was her extending an olive branch. Even if afterward, she counseled me on what to cook and urged me not to try anything new.

  I tried to give Kace a way out. Even offered to break a limb for him so he could end up in the hospital.

  “Babe,” he said, pulling me to him. “I’m not going to fight anything that brings us closer together, that stitches me tighter into your life. That’s your job. I’m gonna have dinner with your mother. You can try and get out of it if you want, but I’ll be here Saturday, suited up and ready for battle.”

  And he was.

  Wearing a black shirt, dark jeans. Motorcycle boots. Looking absolutely delicious.

  My mother looked at him like he was going to steal her jewelry right off her hands. Kace wasn’t fazed. He shook my father’s hand. Met his eye, answered all of his questions. He expertly handled my mother’s jabs, which hadn’t been too sharp since the kids were present.

  I wasn’t sure if my mother was charmed by the end of the night. She was trying too hard to hate him. Not because she was a terrible mother. Because she was trying to protect me in her own way. Because she’d seen how Ranger’s death had broken me. How the MC life had changed me. She wanted to spare me from all pain. Much like I wanted for Lily.

  It was what any mother wanted for their child.

  But it was too late for me. The world had cut me, marked me. There was no other path for me. Kace had been right. I was my own kind of outlaw. This was the only life I knew and the only life I wanted.

  My father tried his best to accept Kace. To support me. I knew it was hard for him too. He didn’t want this danger, this pain either. Nor did he want to change me.

  They left with air kisses—my mother—real kisses and handshakes—my father. There were no more dinner plans made. My mother had fulfilled her obligation and had formed her judgement.

  The kids didn’t seem to find it weird that Kace was now present at dinners with their grandparents or that he participated in the movie nights afterwards. He was cemented into their world now. He and Jack were almost done with the car.

  They were ready for a future with Kace.

  It was me who was fighting it.

  “We should break up,” I said.

  Kace kept drying the dishes, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. “Break up?”

  I nodded. “My mother has accepted you, and that is too scary. That must mean there’s something wrong with you.”

  Kace grinned. “Babe, your mom didn’t look at me the entire night, and every time she said my name it sounded like she was trying to spit out something she really, really didn’t like the taste of.”

  “Yes, and that is my mother’s version of acceptance.”

  Kace kissed me on the mouth. “Well, I’ll take it. Plus, I’m planning on having plenty of time to win her over.”

  His words scared me.

  Terrified me.

  But I held fast.

  Held on to him.

  Kace had survived dinner with my mother.

  Olive had hesitantly asked whether she could meet him. She’d done it in a way that made me feel comfortable. That made it seem like it wasn’t a betrayal to
her and Ranger.

  The dinner between Olive and Kace and the one with my parents were night and day. Olive hugged him the second he crossed the threshold to her house. It was a long hug too. She smiled at him wide without caution. Without falsity.

  She asked questions about his background, not even blinking at his history with foster care, not shying away from the subject either.

  When he asked questions about her life, she answered freely, speaking about Ranger with that same glint of heartbreak in her eye that she’d always have but in a way that didn’t make it uncomfortable.

  That was Olive. That was her magic.

  She’d pulled me aside while Kace was doing the dishes. “I like him,” she whispered. “Really like him. He’s good for you. For the kids. You deserve this, sweetheart.” She squeezed my hand, and I did my best not to burst into tears.

  We’d had various couples’ dinners with everyone in the Sons of Templar family. Since the warnings had already been distributed, none of the women treated Kace any different. They welcomed him. Teased him. It was becoming more real. More normal. And that was the danger. The normality of it all. That we were settling in to each other. Creating a new kind of life together.

  Which freaked me the fuck out.

  Luckily, I had a night with Evie scheduled. Kace was at home with the kids, something he didn’t do often. Not because I didn’t trust him with them, because the threat of... whatever or whoever was still out there, and he didn’t like me traveling anywhere without him. Evie’s house was little more than a fortress, and there were two prospects outside. I was safe. As safe as I could be.

  “It’s more than fucking now, isn’t it?” Evie suggested as we sat in the backyard. “He’s your Old Man.”

  No judgement. Never any judgement.

  I bit my lip. “He’s young,” I frowned. “Too young.”

  Evie shrugged. “No one would be sayin’ that if you were a man and he was a woman.”