The volume of Esmerelda’s cries softened slightly, and he heard what sounded like breaking glass.
Instantly, he had the bathroom door open as he hauled ass towards her room.
Her door opened easily, and there she was, kneeling on the floor still crying.
She was scooping piles of glass into her hands, and Prettyboy just knew she was going to cut herself if she wasn’t careful.
“Here, let me help,” He rasped.
He had to clear his throat twice because of the pain speaking sometimes caused him.
He didn't speak often, even though he knew he was supposed to.
He didn't have much to say anymore, anyways.
“I don’t need help,” She choked out.
Her black hair was falling into her flushed face, and Prettyboy admitted to himself that maybe she didn't need his help.
But, he wanted to help her anyways.
“Here, you’ll cut yourself,” He said as he pushed her hands away from the broken picture frame lying facedown on the floor.
As he flipped the picture over he was surprised to see a picture of her and Chris on what appeared to be their wedding day; she looked so damn happy, and so did Chris.
Prettyboy felt a pang of jealousy even though it was crazy to be jealous of a man long since dead.
“I didn't mean to make so much noise,” She whispered.
He glanced up at her and was surprised to see her staring directly at him.
Her big blue eyes practically drew him in, called to him like a siren song, but the turbulent agony in their depths he knew all too well.
“You were quiet. I heard the glass break,” He lied.
She only nodded, but she didn't look away.
“What's with the bandana?”
The words were like a bullet to the gut, but he didn't even flinch.
Answering that question was the easiest part of his story.
“It's a fashion accessory.”
Her bottom lip trembled slightly before she blinked and more tears escaped from between her thick lashes.
She obviously knew that wasn't the truth, that the bandana was used for something else, but she didn't mention it again. She tried her hardest not to even look at it, from what Prettyboy could tell.
“I’m sorry."
Prettyboy didn't have to wonder if she was sincere.
He could see it all over her expressive face, how upset she was that she'd made such a ruckus. How the idea of annoying him by prying filled her with a familiar anxiety.
For some reason, he didn't want her sympathy.
“Thanks,” He said.
As he moved to stand, he put too much pressure on his bad leg, and he hissed between his teeth when a searing pain zinged through his knee cap.
“Here, let me,” She said as she moved to her feet lithely.
He watched her, fascinated by the play of emotions on her face.
Esmerelda tucked one arm under his arm pit and hefted him all the way to his feet, causing a blush to paint his cheeks.
“I didn't want you to fall with all that glass in your hands,” She explained when he glared at her.
“I can handle my own.”
She smiled, but just barely. The quirk of her mouth was so subtle he would have missed it if he hadn't been watching her so closely.
“I know ya can,” She said.
Prettyboy didn't know what to say to that, and it didn't seem as if she had any more she wanted to say.
Instead, she watched him as closely as he watched her.
“Are you okay?,” He finally murmured.
She tucked the hair hanging low in her face back behind her ears and bared her features to him.
Pert little nose, high cheek bones, cupid’s bow mouth. She was perfection.
He wasn’t even sure he could have conjured her beauty himself if he’d put his mind to it.
“Are you?”
Her words surprised the hell out of him.
Can she tell that I’m not normal?
Can she see through my bandana?
Esmerelda’s gaze wandered over every inch of him as she waited for him to respond; she didn't look like she was judging him, simply curious, but even her slight perusal had him on edge in a heartbeat.
He didn't want her to know.
“I’ll have the prospect sweep your room. Watch your bare feet,” He said over his shoulder as he hastily exited her room.
As soon as he stepped into the hallway, Rayna Claire stepped into his path.
She had a smile perched on her lips that made him want to scream.
“She was nice to you.”
“Why wouldn't she be?,” He asked.
Rayna narrowed her eyes at him.
“What did she break?”
“One of her pictures,” Prettyboy supplied.
He moved to step around her, but again, she stopped him.
“Why are you so flustered?,” Rayna asked.
“Because I’m fuckin’ tired, Rayna.”
She held her hands up in surrender, seeming to realize he wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“Okay, sorry.”
He did step around her then, and he made his way to the bar before he stopped Torch just as he was getting ready to leave. He tossed the glass in his hands into the nearest trash bin before he spoke.
“Go sweep Esmerelda’s room,” He ordered.
Torch started to roll his eyes, but when Prettyboy slammed his palms onto the bar top, he instantly straightened and picked up the broom.
“You got it,” Torch said.
Prettyboy waited until he was completely out of sight before he headed outside in search of Ox.
When he stepped out into the sunlight, he saw that Ox and Axel were still talking near the garage.
Casually, he moved towards them, only pausing to lift his bandana so he could smoke a cigarette.
“Hey, brother. What’s up?,” Axel asked as he wrapped one arm around Prettyboy.
“Not much, how goes your end of things?”
Axel scoffed and gestured towards the clubhouse.
“Dropping off one problem so I can go home to another. I’ve got a rebellious younger sister to contend with and some heat headed my way from the Silver Bullets. Esme hasn't been right for months now, and I was hoping that if she spent some time here, she’d…find whatever it is she’s missing,” Axel said.
Prettyboy glanced at the clubhouse and caught sight of her moving in her room; even her shadow intrigued him.
Why is she so fucking interesting?
“What’s the story with her?,” Prettyboy heard himself ask.
He waited with bated breath for Axel to answer him.
Don’t act like a fucking weirdo, Prettyboy.
She’s just a woman and you don't have a shot in hell of getting with her.
“After Wilder died, she just…lost it. They were newlyweds, if you remember. Barely even married when he got into an accident and died. Tragic, really. Chris was a good man, and Esme’s a good fuckin’ woman. I hope she can find a way to get back to her old self,” Axel said.
Prettyboy could hear how much the Lone Rangers president cared about her, and the way he kept looking up at the clubhouse told Prettyboy that he didn't actually want to leave her behind.
“She’ll be well taken care of here, Axel.”
Axel shook Ox’s hand and pulled him in for a hug before he headed towards his bike.
“I know she will be. I’ll be by soon to check up on her. Thank you again.”
Ox only smiled in Axel’s direction as the man started his bike and drove away.
“We’re plannin’ a fucking wedding, and Axel drops off a bereaved widow? Shit just got real.”
Prettyboy hadn’t even thought about that, and suddenly her tears made perfect sense; why wouldn’t she be hysterical at the sight of all the wedding shit laying around the clubhouse?
It wasn't as if anyone in the clubhouse was quiet about planning Fury and Rayna’s wed
ding. They didn't have any reason to be, and Esmerelda even said she wasn’t trying to rain on anyone’s parade…
But, Ox was right.
“This is gonna be interesting,” Prettyboy said quietly.
Ox slapped him on the back as he too turned to face the clubhouse.
“You fuckin’ bet it is.”
Chapter 5
Esme was in the middle of brushing her hair, ready to sleep, when she heard a soft knock on her door.
She hesitated long enough for the person on the other side of the smooth wood to knock two more times before she finally answered.
There stood Ox, his long hair down around his shoulders.
She noticed he was beginning to gray, but the silver strands of hair only served to make him even more handsome. He smiled kindly at her.
“Just wanted to check in on you,” He said.
She opened her door wider for him to enter, but he shook his head.
“No, it’s getting late. I appreciate the offer, but I should leave you to rest, if there’s nothing you need.”
Esmerelda appreciated his kindness, especially since she’d had such a rocky introduction.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I caused a scene earlier,” She whispered.
Ox waved a hand dismissively, a smile on his lips.
“Don’t apologize. I understand.”
Esmerelda ducked her head when she admitted, “No, don’t let me off the hook. I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive. I know Rayna was trying to be nice, but sometimes I lose my head. I’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”
Ox’s smile widened, and he surprised her when he brought her in close for a tight hug. It’d been a long time she truly felt the warmth of a man’s arms around her, and she had to admit it felt good. Comforting, even…
Esme pulled away slowly, probably too slowly, but Ox didn't mention it.
“I know we’re all new to you. I know Axel made you come here, but I just wanted you to know that no one is going to force you to do anything.”
Esmerelda tried to smile, but it probably came out as some terrifying twist of her lips.
“Thank you, Ox.”
He only nodded before he disappeared down the dark hallway, his dark hair flowing behind him.
Closing her door behind him, she turned to face the lonely room she stood in.
Never had she imagined she’d be there with the Seven Deadlies, husband-less, and now club-less-but there she was.
It.
Was.
Lonely.
Twenty-five years old, and suddenly she had to start all over again.
That’s exactly what she was doing there, too- starting over.
Axel had taken the choice away from her knowing full well she’d rather flounder in Chris’s memory than move on.
Axel was a smart man.
“Fuck,” She said softly as she neared the perfectly made bed in the center of the room.
The beige carpet was plush between her toes, and the curtains were open to reveal a heavy moon in the night sky. As she stripped down to her nightgown, one question kept repeating itself in her mind.
What now, Esme?
What the fuck do I do now?
She had no idea; she didn't know who she was, what she wanted, and maybe that was part of the problem.
Maybe she needed to remember what Esmerelda Quinn liked before she’d signed a marriage license agreeing to be Esmerelda Wilder.
Could it be that simple?
As Esme spread out between the soft sheets against her skin, she closed her eyes and let Chris’s face come to light behind her closed lids.
He’d been so handsome; he’d always made her smile or laugh, and Esmerelda knew that she still needed that. She hadn’t actually laughed in months.
The thought was sobering, and she had to ask herself…was it worth it?
Would Chris want her to struggle like this?
No, he’d want me happy.
When it came down to it, Esmerelda knew that Chris would be horrified at some of her behavior. Maybe even disappointed in her, but she couldn't help it.
She’d loved him with her whole heart, and a part of her wondered if she’d ever get those parts of her back.
With a heavy sigh, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes again, hoping that for once she wouldn't have any nightmares.
As she nodded off towards the land of slumber, she asked herself one more question.
…Am I going to make it?
Chapter 6
The sun was unrelenting as Esmerelda stepped outside.
Her white shorts were cuffed tightly around her thighs, and she was sticky with sweat only minutes after leaving the comfort of the clubhouse. She wasn’t quite sure what she was in search of, but she figured staying inside alone all day wouldn't help her find out any sooner.
“You’re lookin’ better today,” She heard.
Green was watching her from the garage office. She blushed at his honest words.
“Thank you.”
He was smiling, so Esme didn't think he was too angry with her for her outburst the day before, but she still felt a sting of remorse at her own behavior as she neared him.
“I’m sorry I was so rude yesterday.”
Green’s eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected her to apologize.
“It’s okay, we understand.”
"Don't go making excuses for me, darlin'. I've been in a bad way for a long while, but I still like to think I know when I've done something wrong."
Green smiled and lifted an arm, motioning for her to step underneath it.
"Come give me a hug, and we'll forget all about it."
Esmeralda found herself laughing as she moved to hug him; it wasn't exactly easy being that he was as big as a tree.
"That's right, let Green make it all better…"
His words were followed by him wrapping both arms around her and nearly sweeping her right off of her feet.
Esme lifted her head from his chest and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Are you always this touchy-feely?”
“Only with the pretty girls,” He said with a wink as he set her down gently.
She scoffed and looked down at herself.
“Pretty?”
He slowly nodded.
“You sure are,” He said as he planted his hands on his hips.
Esmeralda felt something shift inside of her, then; some broken piece of her that she’d been able to ignore for a long, long time.
He thinks I’m pretty.
For some reason, the truth of his statement had her grinning from ear to ear.
“Thank you, Killian,” She said.
As she turned towards the garage, she heard him call out to her, “It’s Green!”
Yet, when she glanced over her tanned shoulder at him, he was smiling instead of frowning.
He thinks I’m pretty.
Truth be told Esmeralda hadn’t thought much about her appearance over the past six months. She was lucky if she remembered to brush her own hair, let alone worry about being pretty.
Still feels nice to hear it, though.
So nice, in fact, that she was distracted as she neared the garage and she accidentally walked right into a solid wall of chest.
Her hands went up instantly to keep herself from falling backwards, and as she clutched a handful of t-shirt between her fingers, she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist.
Her smile fell instantly as she opened her mouth to apologize. Esmerelda’s blue eyes met familiar green ones, and suddenly she had no idea what she wanted to say.
He was watching her intensely, that stupid bandana covering the bottom half of his face-
Why does he wear that?
Esmeralda didn't take much time to notice such things anymore, but from the looks of it, the man was hiding a gorgeous face beneath the bandana. For just a moment she wanted to touch it, to see beneath it, to remove it…
“Did I hurt you?”
<
br /> His words surprised her, but no more so than the fact that she was still gripping his shirt as if the black material could keep her grounded.
She hurriedly pried her fingers away from his chest, but his arms took a little longer to move. As he released her, Esmeralda moved to take a small step backwards.
“You didn't hurt me,” She whispered.
He nodded.
“Good.”
“What’s your name?,” She asked.
“Prettyboy,” He said gruffly.
Again, Esme found herself smiling.
“Really?”
His green eyes went blank in a second; almost like a flick of a switch, his entire demeanor changed as he stiffened his shoulders and nodded curtly.
“Yeah. I know I don’t look like much.”
Esmerelda’s eyes widened.
Doesn’t look like much?
Her gaze wandered, of course it did- after that comment, how could she not take a better look at him?
His long hair was cut into an undercut, leaving long locks falling into his bright green eyes. His eyes were surrounded by thick lashes that any girl would envy- she certainly did- and although she couldn't see the lower half of his face, she was willing to bet it was perfect.
His tanned skin was covered in tattoos and he definitely worked out.
His black t-shirt was emblazoned with the club logo and stretched across his wide chest, and his black jeans were snug in just the right places…
I shouldn't be noticing any of these things.
I shouldn't even want to…
“You look just fine to me, Prettyboy.”
The traitors words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and damn if they didn't make her flinch in shame.
Those intense eyes landed on her for one split second before he left her standing there wondering what she’d done wrong.
“Don’t mind him, baby. He’s been a sourpuss since his accident,” Slayer said off-handedly.
When Esmeralda turned to look at him she noticed he was standing beside another blonde man who was watching her curiously.
“Accident?”
The second man sighed and pushed his sandy blonde hair out of his face.
“Yeah, Prettyboy was in an accident last year. Burned him up real bad,” He told her.
She stepped forward and lifted her hand towards him.
Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1) Page 3