It’s nice. Gives me hope that normal is real. Normal can happen around me, even if it won’t happen to me.” I smiled. “I guess it’s my version of meditation.”
Kace wasn’t smiling back at me. “You don’t think normal is gonna happen to you?” he repeated.
I arched a brow at him. “Honey, I just had someone put a crap-ton of snakes in my underwear drawer, that’s not exactly something that happens to Suzie Teller.”
“Who the fuck is Suzie Teller?”
“I went to high school with her. We were friends. Kind of. She was a bit of a bitch. But in a teenage girl type of way. She grew up just fine. Married the boyfriend she met in college. He owns a construction business. They live on the other side of town. Our kids play sometimes. She brought over a lot of casseroles when Ranger died. But she made a point to keep her distance, you know? From me, from the club. Didn’t want to cause any offense, of course, but she didn’t want my lifestyle to rub off on her. Her husband didn’t get shot to death. And I’m pretty sure if she got her brakes cut or found snakes in her underwear drawer, it would be a big fucking deal. For me it’s just another Tuesday.”
I didn’t sound like I was feeling sorry for myself. At least I really hoped I didn’t. Because I wasn’t. This was the life I’d chosen. For whatever reason, someone wanted to hurt me, scare me. I fucking hated that because of what it might do to my kids, but I wasn’t all that scared for me. Wasn’t even all that surprised.
My mug was no longer in my hand.
Kace was no longer sitting beside me.
He was on his knees in front of me, clutching my neck.
“Is that what you think?” he hissed. “That all life has for you is death and violence? That you’re never going to have normal, happy life?”
I let out a heavy sigh, surprised at how angry he’d gotten. “Look at my life. You see anything to prove me wrong?”
“I’m gonna prove you wrong,” he declared. “This shit is gonna end, and when it does, we’re gonna do normal shit. Go to Costco. Have brunch. Whatever the fuck normal people do. You’ll get that. Until you get bored. And you will get bored, baby.” His eyes flared, hands stroking my jaw. “Then we’ll go back to fucking in the club bathroom. Riding down the coast. Living the outlaw life you were born for.”
I blinked at Kace. Once. Twice. Then I looked around the backyard my husband had created for me.
“I can’t fall in love again,” I murmured, meeting his eyes, making my gaze cold and my voice indifferent.
He didn’t blink at the look nor the words. Nothing showed on his face. “Okay,” he replied.
“I’m serious,” I snapped, somehow annoyed at the mild response even though that was supposedly what I’d wanted. “You need a young heart for love. One without scars and marks. Mine isn’t young anymore. Not by a long shot.” My voice hitched ever so slightly. “I’m not a person who can love now. You need to understand that moving forward, if we’re going to be public with this. It can work for however long it works. But that’s what this is. This is something that’s always going to be this. I’m not going to fall in love with you.”
He was quiet for a long time. Or what seemed like a long time for us. Seconds yawned into hours when conversations like this happened with Kace. When I let him through the cracks, letting him brush past all my broken pieces.
“I’m not arguing, babe,” he tilted his head to the side.
“You’re not?”
He shook his head. “We don’t really have time to argue about this kind of shit when someone’s trying to cause you harm. That’s my focus right now. You can feel however you wanna feel. It’s my goal to make sure that you’re alive to feel it. I’m going hunting. First thing tomorrow.”
Something moved in my chest. Something cold and painful. “You’re not going hunting,” I exclaimed.
“Someone’s fuckin’ with you. Right now, we don’t know who they are, what their intentions are. What we do know is that they’ve entered your house. Where you sleep, where your children sleep. So I don’t give a fuck what their intentions are. All I care about is making sure they forget your name at the least. Ideally that they forget to breathe.”
I