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

by Anne Malcom

  I raised my brow at her. “You know better than anyone that gender equality doesn’t really exist in this world, of all places.”

  She raised her brow back at me. “And you know better than anyone that this world has no rules or judgment when it comes to fucking. As long as everyone’s a consenting adult.”

  “I have children. I’m a mother.” I didn’t even know why I was fighting her on this anymore. The fighting was done. I’d lost. Or won. Depending on how you looked at it.

  “You’re also a woman,” Evie acknowledged. “One who needs to and deserves to get fucked well and right.” She paused. “He do that?”

  Heat crept up my neck at the mere memory. I nodded once.

  She grinned. “Well then, baby. Age is really just a number. And put it this way, younger men tend to die on you less.”

  I stared at Evie. Should I really be surprised that she was saying shit like this? Evie was not one to pull punches nor be delicate. But I found myself relieved. As fragile as I felt, people treating me with care made me feel close to truly breaking down than anything else.

  I smiled, something I hadn’t thought I’d do when someone was joking about my dead husband and my new... Old Man? It was fucked up, but it was a smile, nonetheless.

  “You and I both know when it comes to death and sex, age is just a number, baby.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “You love him,” she said, sucking on her cigarette.

  Her words hit me in the throat. Because she hadn’t structured them as a question. She was saying it as if it were some kind of forgone conclusion. It scared me. That she could think such a thing. See such a thing.

  “Of course I don’t,” I choked out.

  Her eyes narrowed, and her face changed to an expression usually reserved for club girls who didn’t know their place. Cold. Calculating. Terrifying.

  She stood, jabbing out her cigarette in the ash tray on the table.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, slightly panicked to be without her company and to be on the receiving end of such a look.

  “I don’t drink with liars, honey,” she admonished, showing her pack of smokes in her back pocket. “And you’re lying to us both.”

  “I’m not meant to love anyone,” I blurted as she walked away.

  She paused, back turned before she turned and made her way back to the table.

  “What? You’re meant to sew up your pussy and your heart because you lost your Old Man?” she countered. “You’re too smart to think that shit,” she continued without waiting for me to answer. “You’ve been in this life long enough to know the ugly truths of this world. We’re not people who get fed bullshit about things like happily ever afters, one true loves and the American fucking dream. You forfeit your ignorance the second you made the decision to stick by your man. To become part of this club. You also accepted the fact that you might lose him one day. Whether it be to him thinking with his dick and working out his problems on club girls instead of talking through his shit or dying to protect the club.”

  She poured us two more drinks before she sat down again. “It hurts in a way you can’t even put into words because we love differently here. We live differently. So our grief is deeper, more violent, it can eat you from the inside out. But we don’t try to mask it and get on with our lives. ” She leaned back, sipping her drink. “You’re too good of a mom to let this shit eat up you up entirely. You’ll grit your teeth and get through it for those kids. But you’re really gonna try to keep yourself the grieving widow for life?”

  I sipped my own drink, needing the burn of the booze to take away the sting of the truth. “I’m betraying him somehow,” I confessed, voice quiet. “I know it doesn’t make sense. Maybe I feel this way because I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want him to be dead. Because if he isn’t really dead, in my mind, being with someone else, feeling anything for someone else, is cheating.” I looked at her. “In order to be with Kace, I first have to bury my husband, truly put him to rest. I have to feel all of that pain. I’m not strong enough for that.”

  “No, baby. You’re not weak enough to believe that,” Evie countered. “We both know you buried your husband almost two years ago now. He’s gone.”

  She was right. Ranger was gone.

  It was well past time for me to understand that.

  Chapter 21

  “Did you have a good time with Evie, baby?” Kace murmured.

  We were in bed. He’d waited up for me, because he was Kace. Also, I guessed, because he felt the threat wasn’t gone. Though I doubted whoever was doing this would wait this long between... attacks? If someone really wanted me dead, they would’ve tried a lot harder. Maybe they’d been scared off. Decided I wasn’t worth the effort.

  Of course neither Kace nor the club were going to be taking any risks. So the two prospects had followed me home and walked me to my front door, which Kace had opened before we even got to it.

  He’d left the porch light on.

  The house was dark and quiet inside when I arrived, the kids asleep, Kace’s laptop on the coffee table, a glass of tequila beside it. Kace wasn’t a huge drinker, he enjoyed having a few beers with me, but never in excess. I’d never seen him drunk. Or tipsy. He occasionally had one glass of tequila at home. Maybe two. No more. Especially when he had the kids to look after. I wondered if it was because he always wanted to be prepared to jump on his bike at the sign of trouble or drama.

  Surely, he was expecting it, surely his brothers had updated him on all of the chaos that befell the club in previous years.

  Someone cutting my brakes and putting a bunch of snakes in my underwear drawer was slightly chaotic, sure. But it was small potatoes compared to what the Sons of Templar had been through.

  As soon as the door was closed, locked and the alarm was set, I was in Kace’s arms. His mouth on mine, his violent need palpable. He carried me to the bedroom, where he did glorious things to me. Things that made me forget my own name.

  It was only after I got my breathing under control, managed to stumble to the bathroom to clean up and brush my teeth, did Kace ask the question about my night.

  “Yeah, it was... reassuring, I guess,” I replied, voice husky.

  “Reassuring?” he repeated. His hand was drawing lazy circles on my back.

  “Yeah, with everything going on.”

  “I’m guessing you mean me and you, not the faceless killer looking to end you?” he questioned dryly.

  It was a point of contention between us, that I wasn’t taking the threat seriously. Or that’s how he saw it. I saw it as carrying on with my life and not letting some nameless, faceless asshole ruin a life that I was just figuring out how to put back together.

  “What did you need reassuring with about us?” he asked. I knew Kace wasn’t pissed about me talking to someone else about us. About the fact I needed reassuring. He accepted that I couldn’t dive into this with the same confidence he had.

  “You’re young,” I answered honestly.

  He grinned, in that wicked way that he had. “Noticed that, did you?”

  I pursed my lips against the effect that grin had on my thighs, and in between them. “I did. Noticed that you’re young. That you’re good with kids. That you are great with them. And you don’t have any kids.”

  “Not that I know of.”

  I scowled at him. “Do you want them?”

  His eyes darkened ever so slightly. He understood what I meant. And he didn’t answer straight away. No more quick quips, no more teasing tone. “I mean... yeah. My lifestyle doesn’t really accommodate kids. But I figured I’d meet the right woman, it would all fit into place and I’d become a dad.”

  I bit my lip in order to keep my expression neutral.

  Not that it helped. He knew me far too well to be fooled by my forced expression.

  “But,” he continued, moving me so I was laying right on top of him. “I’ve met the right woman. Fallen in love with her and her beautiful children. I n
ever want to replace their dad, but I’d like to think he’d approve, that I’ll do things for them that he’d want. If you’ll let me, stop holding me at arm’s length, I’ll be happy with that. More than that. My cup runneth the fuck over with all of that, baby.”

  We didn’t say anything after that.

  Even I didn’t have an argument for that.

  “Mom?”

  I glanced up from my computer screen to see my son standing in front of me looking hesitant. Tentative. Two words that I’d never used to describe my son. He was confident, ready to try anything, do anything, say anything. He’d always felt comfortable in his own skin, and I was so proud of that fact. That Ranger and I had given him enough room and love to feel like he could fit into this world however he wanted to.

  Lily was the same. But she was quieter about it. Still discovering. I loved that curiosity.

  It unnerved me to see my son like this. And, of course, my first instinct was panic. To get hysterical. But whatever this was, it wasn’t life and death. He wasn’t bleeding from anywhere. Nothing was broken. Therefore me panicking would only make him feel worse.

  I forced my face to neutral. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

  Jack looked to the ground. Fidgeted a little. Then his eyes found mine. “Is Kace going to die?”

  It was only through pure determination that I didn’t flinch at the question. At the even, almost jaded way he asked that.

  “Everyone dies, sweetheart,” I explained, forcing myself to give him the true, realistic answer instead of placating him with a lie that everything was going to be fine. “But most everyone lives to be old, gray, wrinkled. Kace has many, many years to wait for that to happen. He’s young and healthy. It is definitely not something that’s going to happen soon. Surely not something that you need to worry about.” He was worried, that much was clear. “What makes you ask that?”

  He sighed, looking out the window. “Because Dad died.”

  The blow was immediate. Paralyzing. There would always be these moments. When I thought my kids might’ve healed. Might’ve somehow figured out a way to get through life without this shadow over them.

  But, of course, that wasn’t how life worked.

  Although I sure wished it did.

  I took a deep breath. All I wanted to do was grab hold of my son, pull him into my lap and hug him tight enough to protect him. But he was too old for that now. For the hugs. For the protection.

  “And you feel that because Kace wears the same patch, does the same stuff that dad did that he might die too?” I asked.

  Jack shook his head. “No, because sometimes people die. Not because of anything else, they just do. It can happen to anyone. Dad was strong. He was kind of old, I guess, but not like grandpa. And he still died. The same with Grandpa Steg. He was old like grandad, too, but strong like Dad. But they both died.”

  Another blow.

  This one deeper. Harder.

  Because he wasn’t just thinking about death on the surface. Specific to the Sons of Templar. He was thinking of it like it was really. Cruel. Unyielding. He was losing his innocence, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it.

  “Yes, baby. Sometimes people die,” I answered. “No matter how strong they are. No matter how good they are. Sometimes the world is cruel, and it hurts us when we don’t deserve it. It’s natural to be a little afraid of something happening to people around you. But you’re afraid because you like Kace, right?”

  Jack frowned ever so slightly at that. It almost made me want to smile, despite the subject matter. He was so stubborn and concerned with breaking his ‘cool guy’ façade that he was trying so hard to maintain. Admitting he cared about Kace, in his eyes, at least, would damage said façade. But my son was not a liar.

  So he nodded, still frowning.

  “Sweetheart, that unfortunately is the thing about caring about people. Loving people. We give them a part of ourselves to take care of. And even the best of people—Kace is one of those, by the way—the people who will take care of that part of us, they can’t control the big things. Like death. It’s scary. It makes you not want to care about people because you don’t want to get hurt.”

  Jack’s eyes darted to his shoes, then back up to me.

  “I’m gonna be honest with you, kiddo, there’s always a chance of getting hurt,” I told him softly. “Of something bad happening. But I promise you, caring about people, loving people. It’s worth the risk, okay? We were unlucky enough to have someone we loved very much leave us. Even though he didn’t want to. I need you to remember that doesn’t happen all the time. That isn’t normal, okay? I can’t promise you nothing bad is ever going to happen, even though I wish I could. I promise you right now, though. You’re going to be so glad you were brave enough to care about people. It’s going to make you into a better man. You’re already one of the best I know. Right up there with your father, who would be so darn proud of you.”

  I reached out to ruffle his hair because it was straight up impossible not to touch my son in some kind of way in that moment.

  He screwed up his face in that way boys did, but he didn’t pull away.

  “I love you, kid,” I whispered, holding tears in through sheer choice of will.

  “I love you too, Mom,” he said back, eyes glancing away. “I want you to be happy. I’m glad Kace makes you happy. I think Dad might’ve liked him.”

  I smiled. Jack was totally wrong on that one. Ranger most definitely wouldn’t have liked the man who was sleeping with his wife, making her and her children fall in love with him. He’d kick his fucking ass. Maybe kill him.

  But he wasn’t here for that. Which was the whole point.

  “Yeah, baby. He would,” I lied.

  “You okay, babe?” Kace asked, handing me another beer.

  I was sitting at the breakfast bar with my laptop. Writing.

  This book was almost done. That’s what it was now. A book. At this point, I could no longer trick myself thinking it was anything else. Then there was the fact that I had a publishing deal, signed and everything.

  It felt weird. To have something like this happening. To be creating. To call myself an author. It made me feel vulnerable too. Because this book was full of my demons and grief. And, of course, I was surrounded by supportive and loving women who wanted to read it. Amy was the only one who had so far, but no doubt I’d get harassed if I didn’t let the rest of the women soon.

  Not to mention Olive.

  My mother was proud of me in her own way, which was demanding she get the first copy to read to make sure it was suitable for her church group (it totally wasn’t), squeezing my hand in hers for a second.

  I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about this, of course. Even when it became apparent I was going to get the publishing deal. I wanted it kept secret. Separate from my life. I was worried it might change who I was. Further still from the woman that Ranger had married.

  Then again, she was changed irrevocably the second he died.

  But still, I clung to the illusion of thinking that if I didn’t change too much, I was somehow closer to him.

  It was Kace and Amy who gently—Kace was gentle, Amy didn’t know how to be—urged me to tell people. To be proud of myself. To feel entitled to shed the skin that didn’t serve me anymore.

  So I did that. People responded with love, excitement, various alcoholic drinks. My advance was already in the bank, a hefty enough buffer that I wasn’t becoming a thief or stripper anytime soon.

  I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things couldn’t just happen this way. Tragedy had to strike again. It had my address, after all.

  Kace had just finished doing the dishes. And he’d made dinner. Forced me to sit and write while he cleaned up. It wasn’t a terrible view. Not at all. I would’ve been completely content with it, now being comfortable with Kace being in our space, had this afternoon not still been weighing heavily on me.

  I was so powerless to the situation, yet I still second gues
sed every choice I’d made since Ranger died. Everything I’d done. That’s what motherhood was, questioning yourself, wondering if you had done different, done better, could you have saved your child from hurt?

  I’d done my best to cover up all of this throughout the night, which was made easier by the fact that Jack seemed back to his old self, warmer with Kace, if anything. The two of them had even been throwing a baseball outside before dinner.

  It helped a little. But not enough.

  And Kace was far too perceptive for his own good.

  “I know you’ve been stewin’ on somethin’ all night,” he continued when I didn’t answer straight away. “And I’m not going to pressure you to talk about it if you’re still working through it. If you’re not ready. But something’s eatin’ you. Might not be able to help. But it might be nice to get it to stop doing laps in that beautiful head of yours.”

  Seriously. Where did this man come from? Had they colonized the moon in the future, developing emotionally intelligent, super-hot, kind and caring men then sent them back in time to test them out on unsuspecting women?

  If so, how in the fuck did I get two in the same lifetime?

  I closed my laptop, since I’d only been tapping at the keys, pretending to write anyway.

  “Jack likes you,” I said by explanation.

  He smiled. “Yeah, getting that. Makes me happy as fuck. Weird thing to say, but it’s made me happier than anything I’ve ever done... so how’s that bad?”

  Kace was happy, beaming over the fact that my son accepted him. Was most likely falling a little bit in love with him. Kace was falling a little bit in love with my son. I was falling in a little bit in love with Kace, too, despite my best efforts.

  “He really likes you,” I reiterated, slightly freaked out at this realization.

  “Again, babe, fail to see why that’s got you twisted up.”

  I pursed my lips. “He likes you, but he’s afraid you’re going to die,” I clarified, wondering even as I said it if it was right to have told him. To steal the joy he was feeling.