Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,28
I don’t fucking care about her. She’s a hot body at the club. I was drunk off my ass. Fucked up in my head, and I kissed her. I don’t even remember her fucking name.”
“Ah, well that makes it so much better,” I muttered.
His hand curled around the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles going white from the force he was holding onto it.
“Why didn’t you fuck her?” I asked. “If you were going to see what the inside of another woman’s mouth tasted like, why didn’t you stick your dick in her too?
I was being crass. Vulgar. Cruel. But I didn’t care. Couldn’t care.
“Because I couldn’t,” Ranger bit out. “I could barely stomach kissing her. Hated every second of it, hated myself for doing it. Because touching any woman that isn’t you is a fucking betrayal of everything I am.”
The words would’ve been nice if he wasn’t saying them with the same mouth he’d cheated on me with tonight.
“Why did you do it then?” I asked.
“I’m trying to get rid of you!” he exploded, his roar echoing over the corners of my brain. We’d fought plenty in our marriage, but he’d always spoken in aggressive, sharp and quiet tones. He’d never raised his voice.
Which is why I was struck dumb.
Plus, it wasn’t the volume in which he said the words, it was the words themselves.
Ranger started pacing.
He never did that either. The man had always been annoyingly free of most nervous tics.
“Fuck, Lizzie, the club...” he trailed off. Stopped pacing. Stared at me.
I’d been married to this man for years. Known him for longer. I was an expert in Cody, an expert in Ranger. I knew every movement on his face, every expression.
But this man standing in front of me was a stranger.
“The way things are going, it’s darker than I ever thought we would go. I’m in deep. Even if I wanted to get out, I couldn’t. Not now. And I don’t want to. That’s not the right thing to say as a husband and a father—” his voice broke and he sucked in a sharp inhale. “But fuck, it’s the only thing I have to say. I hate myself. But the club is me. It’s my blood. And those men are my brothers. It’s not inside me to walk away... even if I could. I do love you. More than anything. And I don’t want you hurt. But I also don’t want to find you broken and half dead on the side of the road.”
Laurie. He was talking about my beautiful friend, raped, tortured and abandoned like garbage just because she’d loved a man who wore a Sons of Templar cut.
That’s all it had taken... a little bit of love pointed in the wrong direction. It became a death sentence. Not just for Laurie, who I’d known almost all my life, but for Bull. He was gone now. Just an empty shell wearing a cut, breathing, not existing.
That would be Ranger. That’s what this was. A glimpse of what he’d look like if the club got me killed.
“I don’t forgive you,” I said. “I understand why you’re doing this. Why you did what you did. I wish I didn’t. Wish I could blindly hate you for what you’ve done, throw you out of this house, giving you what you want. But I can’t. I won’t. So I’ll hate you with my eyes open. For as long as it takes for me to resolve you. I’ll stay right here, by your side, because I’ll always love you more than I could ever hate you.”
I stepped back. “But you’re sleeping in the guest room. Tonight for sure. Maybe when I’ve slept on it, I’ll figure out how to share a bed with this stranger you’ve turned yourself into.” I ran my eyes over the man that looked exactly like my husband.
Then my gaze went to our living room cloaked in shadow, always warm, full of love, laughter and safety.
It was cold and dangerous now.
“Maybe I’ll need a few nights, but I’m not leaving,” I said, voice soft. “I’m not raising our son without you teaching him how to be a man. Even though you’re not acting like one now, I know you have him inside.”
My voice cracked a little and I angrily swiped a tear from my cheek.
“I’m going to stay so you can show your daughter how all women should be treated. I hope what you’ve done haunts you with the thought of how she’d feel if some