Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,128
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 guessed 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.
Kace’s expression sobered, and I instantly regretted saying anything. “Ah, I get it. Thinks that getting too close to people, especially male type figures, may end up with him alone, confused, hurt.”
I nodded.
“And him saying that to you would’ve broken your fuckin’ heart,” he continued softly.