Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,127

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