by Anne Malcom
No fucking way.
Which was why I was at the garage. Wearing my best outfit. Not that his feelings for me could be swayed by an outfit, but it sure did help. A floral sundress that wasn’t exactly ‘biker chic’ but when paired with chunky heeled black boots, a wide black belt and a buttery black leather jacket, it totally worked. The sun, beach days with my kids and Kace had kissed my skin so my legs were bronzed. I showed off a lot of them since the dress ended well above my knee. If the wind blew, you’d see the white lace panties I’d put on for Kace, too, with the hope that things would get that far.
My hair was in wild ringlets around my face. I’d finger brushed some of them softer, but Kace had always commented on my ‘lioness hair’ when I wore it this way.
My makeup was soft, in contrast with everything else harsh about my outfit. A lot of blush to make my cheeks extra rosy. Clear lip-gloss. The kind that was designed by witches because it didn’t smear through even the most intense of make out sessions. My friends had all done the research. A little perfume, but not much.
I looked good. Hopefully not like I was trying too hard.
Of course, there was an audience for my arrival. There was no such thing as privacy in this place. The various garage bays were filled with cars and mechanics working on them. Most of the mechanics working there were patched in to the club, but there were also a handful that weren’t. The Sons kept up their reputation around town, protecting the residents, making sure drugs weren’t dealt or cooked within town limits, helping out with pretty much anything that veered slightly outside the law.
And they also employed talented young men and women who hadn’t had a chance anywhere else.
So the ones without the patches paid little attention to me, beyond the respectful chin lifts reserved for Old Ladies.
But the men in patches, yeah, they paid attention.
Lucky helpfully pointed to the last bay with a wink. I gave him a weak smile. I’d gotten over the fear that these men would somehow respect me less for taking up with another member. They had done everything but throw a damn party since Kace and I’d gone public. In fact, Lucky had suggested a party, but I’d bugged out my eyes, and Bex had quickly taken care of that.
Having an audience was uncomfortable even in a best-case scenario. It could be humiliating in the worst case.
The Rolling Stones played softly over the sound system Cade had installed throughout the garage. There was a chart on the wall by the office with shifts of who was in control of the music throughout the day. Before that, there’d been fistfights.
Kace was closing the hood on the car he was working on when I made it to the end bay. His eyes found mine immediately. Something moved in them, something slight, but the rest of his usually expressive face stayed blank.
My blood chilled, but I continued forward.
Kace wiped his hands on a rag as I approached.
I stopped a few feet away from him, feeling awkward with the space between us. The second we became... a thing, he was not about space. He was about touch. Presence. Always.
He made no attempt to cross the distance I’d put between us, and that made things even worse.
“Hey,” I said in a small voice.
“Hey,” he replied evenly.
I swallowed. Hadn’t I rehearsed what I was going to say in my mind? Where was all of that now?
“I’ve missed you,” I said.
Kace jerked. Ever so slightly, but it was a change. Whatever mask he had been clinging to fell.
“You did?”
There was something different about the way he spoke. More vulnerability.
It clicked then. The mask. The radio silence.
He was scared. Afraid that the letter had changed something in me. Changed my feelings for him.
Once again, I’d been so caught up in my own feelings, so convinced that Kace was this take charge, alpha kind of guy, that I’d forgotten he was human. He was scared.
So instead of waiting for him to cross the distance, to make a move, I did it. He stayed in place as I approached him, as I wrapped my hands around his neck and yanked my mouth to his. Then he moved, and the kiss was everything. Filled with all the words I’d been afraid to say.
Kace’s hands went to my ass, slipping under my dress to squeeze my bare ass. He let out a hiss at the same time I moaned into his mouth.
If he hadn’t stopped the kiss, I would’ve let him fuck me on the hood of the car, regardless of our audience.
“As much as I want to be inside you right now, Lizzie, not gonna let anyone else have the privilege of seeing your face when you’re full of my cock,” he growled, his hand giving my ass one last squeeze before he righted my dress. He didn’t let me go, though.
“I love you,” I said in response, my voice breathy.
He froze then, his eyes on me, hands flexing around me. “What did you just say?”
I smiled. Warmth spread through my bones. “I know you heard me, being much younger and having that superior hearing. But I’ll repeat it. I love you, Kace. I’ve been too scared to admit it. Too scared to let you in. But you got in anyway. And now I can’t escape you. What I feel for you.” I stroked his cheek. “I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to escape you.”
His mouth was on mine again. Quick, hard. “In case you hadn’t caught on, being much older and all, I love you too, baby.” His eyes met mine. “I’m so in awe of your bravery.”
I tilted my head. “My bravery? What, because I shot that bitch that was about to kill me? No. That was survival.”
His eyes clouded over as they did with any memory or mention of that day. No matter how it all ended, I knew he was haunted by how it could’ve been different. How he could’ve lost me. I knew that he was haunted by the fact I’d had to kill someone. I knew this because he’d told me. Kace was a communicator. If he was pissed about something, he told me immediately. Didn’t brew on it. Didn’t create a storm cloud over the house. He laid it out. Same with the things that made him happy. He wore it on his face. He spread it around the house. He shared it with me.
So yeah, I knew that the situation with Nicole haunted him still. He’d killed before. And he carried it with him in different ways. In dark ways. I knew that he hated how I had to carry it with me too. Or how he thought I carried it with me.
But honestly? I didn’t carry it with me in a way that haunted me. I guess I should’ve. Something in me should’ve been broken or ruined after taking a human life. Should’ve sickened me. Sure, there were a few nights I woke up in a cold sweat. Moments in the day when I walked past the spot where she’d died and something moved inside of me. Something cold, slithery, reptilian.
But nothing lasting. I’d saved myself so I could continue being a mother, friend, and whatever I was to Kace. I slept next to him every night. Had breakfast with my kids every morning. Saw my friends for coffee, cocktails.
No. Being alive didn’t haunt me. We were all killers in different ways. Whether we killed those out to harm us or killed parts of ourselves.
“No,” Kace stated in answer to my question. “Though that was fuckin’ brave, you defending yourself so I could be here right now with you.” His hands rubbed down the sides of my body, as if he needed reminding I was real flesh and blood. “The bravest thing you’ve done is to let yourself love me after what you’ve lost. It’s a gift you’ve given me, Lizzie. One I intend to treasure and nurture for a lifetime. Nothing less.”
Though something cold hit me at the thought of how short that lifetime could be, Kace’s warmth chased it away.
My book arrived the day after I told Kace I loved him. The day after I decided that I was ready to move on with him. To start a life beyond my fear. Felt a bit too much to be a coincidence.
I was glad that no one was around when the box arrived.
It gave me a moment. Or a lot of moments. I needed all of them. It felt heavy in my hands. And it was. In more ways than one. Most of the time I’d spent writing it, I hadn’t let myself
consider it an actual book. I didn’t even know what I’d considered it. Something to keep me sane. Keep me connected to Ranger. That’s what it was, when it came down to it. It was our story. All of the good, all of the bad, all of the love.
I’d left one part out though.
A big part.
Ranger’s death.
I’d written how the rest of our lives could’ve been. Should’ve been. Wrote a gritty, raw, romantic saga. One that I wanted to read. For a while, one I wanted to live.
It was all here. Four hundred pages.
My publishers and editors had mentioned the length, it being unusually long, especially for a romance debut. But I’d been firm on nothing being taken out. I was aware that ‘killing your darlings’ was a common practice. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I’d look back on this after many more books—hopefully many, at least—and regret it. But for now, I wanted it all in there. Needed it all in there. Our happy ever after had to live somewhere.
And it did. Right here. In the book in my hands. One that would be on bookshelves for the rest of our lives. I liked that. We’d get more time together. Even if it wasn’t in reality.
Chapter 24
Three Months Later
Happiness was a funny thing.
It chased away terrors and pains that at one time had seemed so permanent. Dulled the pain of scars that would always at the very least itch.
It left you unaware that the world did not have a limit on horror.
Which was what I got on a Wednesday evening.
Horror.
Of course, I didn’t know it at first.
“What a surprise!” I exclaimed, smiling at Gage and Lauren. I was so happy that I didn’t notice the looks on their faces. Yeah, even though I knew better, even though I had all of the monstrous experiences to show me what a trap happiness was, I was stupid enough, human enough to think my tragedy insulated me from further horror.
But life didn’t work like that.
There was no ceiling on how many times life could destroy you.
“Kace would not shut up about lasagna,” I continued, ignorant to the fact that this would be the last few moments of happiness I’d have for a while. “So I made lasagna. I might’ve gone a little overboard, because I was taking into account that he’s got all those muscles to feed, and now my son has decided he’s going through a ‘growth spurt’ so he eats almost as much as Kace. Anyway, that’s my long way of saying I actually have enough for two macho men, one mini-man, three and a half women and a toddler.” I peered around. “Where’s David? There’s plenty for him too.”
“I’m going to go to the kids,” Lauren remarked, something odd about the way her voice sounded. She moved past me, but not before grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze.
My blood went cold. This was all far too familiar. I knew what that voice was, what that squeeze meant.
I squared in on Gage. “What is going on?”
“Honey, I need you to brace yourself,” Gage instructed, his voice as gentle as I’d ever heard it.
And it scared the ever-loving fuck out of me. If I didn’t know my kids were in the backyard playing, I would’ve collapsed right there, thinking that something had happened to them.
But since they were in the backyard, and Gage had that soft look, was calling me honey, I knew there was only one person he was here to talk to me about.
“Is he alive?” I choked out. “Is Kace alive?”
“Why don’t we sit,” he invited, trying to move inside. I barred the doorway.
“No. We’re not fucking sitting. You’re telling me right now, is he alive?” My voice bordered on shrill, my patched-up heart already bracing for another break. Scars from the last time I’d gotten news like this were as fresh as if they’d been inflicted yesterday. The tissue knew. Emotional muscle memory.
Gage was silent for a beat, most likely trying to figure out what would be gained from trying to force me inside to give the news versus doing it right here. As if it made any kind of difference. As if my fucking sofa would soften any kind of blow he was about to give me. I could be wrapped in ten tons of cotton wool, and it wouldn’t make a damn difference.
“He’s alive.”
There was no relief that came from that statement. No. The way he said it was not meant to comfort me. It was a fact. One that seemed tenuous. I could feel it.
“It’s bad,” he continued. “We need to go.”
“The kids,” I choked out, thinking of the two children who’d so recently recovered from the loss of their father. Who had welcomed a new man with the same cut into their lives. Who had fallen in love with that man. A lot in love. They’d done it without fear or hesitation, because the scar on their hearts was alone. They thought their father’s death was a fluke. They had no reason to think that life would give them another wound so soon after they’d healed.
I’d done that too. I’d been foolish with my own heart. But that was fine. It was whatever. The biggest sin was being foolish with my children.
“Lauren’s got them,” Gage replied. “We’re goin’ to the hospital.”
There was an urgency in his voice, something that told me he didn’t know how much time we had. How much time Kace had.
The bottom fell out of my life then. For the second time. And I didn’t know how I was going to survive it.
I didn’t speak on the way to the hospital.
I must’ve breathed, because I was still alive when we got there. But everything inside me was frozen, on pause. My mind was blank. Empty. I couldn’t think anything right now. Wouldn’t let myself think anything.
The second Gage rolled to a stop, I jumped out of the car. Cade met me at the entrance of the hospital. I still didn’t say a word. But I didn’t need to.
“Semi clipped him,” Cade explained, his voice grim. He held my eyes because that’s the kind of guy that Cade was. It was hard for him. Painful, too, because despite what first impressions might communicate, this was a man who cared about people. About his club. So this was hurting him too. A lesser man would’ve looked away.
Cade did not look away. That’s why he wore the president patch.
“Bastard was eating a fuckin’ sandwich. Fat fuck.” He shook his head. “We’re taking care of him.”
I nodded. I probably should care about the fate of the trucker who’d done nothing wrong aside from driving carelessly. But I really didn’t. In fact, in that moment, I really hoped they made him suffer.
“Hospital staff won’t tell us much, but they’ve told everything they can, thanks to Lily,” Cade continued. “He’s in surgery. Didn’t look good at the start. Looks slightly better now, but I don’t think that’s saying much. I’m not going to give you false hope, Lizzie. I respect you too much for that. I wish to fuck I could lie to you.” He ran a hand through his hair.
He was preparing for another funeral. I saw it in his face.
I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there when Lauren arrived. It must’ve been awhile because it had gotten dark outside.
It was dark on the inside of me, so I liked that, at least.
I hadn’t taken much notice of anything or anyone, blocking out the world as I sat in limbo. But a mother had a sense when her kid was near, so I jerked myself out of my oblivion to see my son standing beside Lauren, looking pale and scared but doing his best to look brave.
“What is he doing here?” I snapped at Lauren in a tone she did not deserve.
“He said he’d break out of our house and walk here if I didn’t drive him,” she replied in a kind tone that I, too, did not deserve. She smiled sadly. “Lily is sleeping.”
I frowned at my son, hating what he’d see on my face. On my entire body.
Defeat.
“Mom, you’re not going through this alone,” he informed me in a tone too strong for a boy his age.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m not alone.” I nodded around the waiting room, which was wall to wall with Sons of Templar patches and various wives.
Jack didn’t look at them. Instead, he sat down beside me and took my hand in his. “You’re not alone now,” he corrected. “Kace is my friend. You love him. We love him too. I know you think I’m too young to be here, I know you want to protect me, but it’s too late. I’m too smart.” He smiled weakly. “So you can ground me when this is all over, but no matter what, I’m staying here until we get the news that Kace is okay.”
Lauren wiped her eyes, giving me a look and blowing me a kiss before leaving.
There were no tears for me. Not even with Jack breaking my heart and soul. I couldn’t cry right now. That was for after.
As much as I wanted to lie to Jack, and myself, I couldn’t. “Honey, you need to know. Kace might not be okay. We need to be prepared for that.”
Jack frowned, jutting his chin up in that stubborn way his father used to do. “He’s going to be okay,” he repeated firmly. As if the stronger he spoke the statement, the more likely it was to be true.
I didn’t have the heart to try and argue. Instead, I tried to believe it with the same strength that my son had. Tried to hope that the world couldn’t possibly be so cruel as to take away my only other chance at love. Life.
The doctor came eventually. They said a lot of things. Though I didn’t absorb most of it, mostly holding on to the fact that he was still alive. I chose not to let the words like ‘critical’ and ‘no guarantees’ get through. No, alive was all I needed. The rest couldn’t sink in. Because he couldn’t die.
Wouldn’t.
Jack’s small hand was tight in mine. Suddenly, my son became so much larger. So much more mature. Yet another tragedy unfolding, molding him into the man he was meant to be much too soon.
Though I wanted to clutch on to my son and benefit from all of the strength he was holding in his body, the strength he was sharing with me, I urged him to go home. Be with his sister. Look after her. That was the only way to convince him. He was a protector, my boy. It was a struggle for him to leave me, even now. Even with all of the men sitting in the waiting room. He reminded me so much of his father in that moment, the pain almost crippled me. The memory of my dead husband in his son, already preparing to grieve the second man who had entered his life. Who I’d given him permission to love. Who I’d given myself permission to love because there was no way I’d bury two men in Sons of Templar cuts.