Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,51

team’s turn to carpool. If I was a good mother, I might’ve gone anyway, but it was bad enough that I had to sit through all the home games and have all of the mothers’ staring at me with pity, or worse coming up and trying to talk to me. That didn’t happen when I had Bex or Amy with me—they were far too intimidated by them to try it then—to ask me ‘how I was doing’. So I skipped away games when I could.

Lily was having a ‘spa day’ at Amy’s house with the rest of the Sons of Templar girls. It was still difficult for me to let the kids out of my sight. Though I knew that they’d be safe, that they’d come home to me, I still breathed a sigh of relief the second they returned home.

Despite how much I wished I could constantly hold them close, never let them go and try to protect them from the world, I couldn’t do that to them. I had to let them grow. Somehow had to figure out how to survive through their absences, with the truth that it would only get worse once they got older. Jack had already started turning into the man I knew he was going to be. Strong. Passionate. Stubborn. Determined to patch in to his father’s club.

Then there was Lily. Beautiful. Kind. Romantic. She was just like me. And she was growing up around many mini badasses. Yeah, I was in trouble.

Which was probably why Gwen came knocking at the door with two coffees and a paper bag filled with muffins, presumably it was her shift to make sure I was handling everything okay on my own. Now that I’d opened the floodgates by attending the party, it seemed like my self-imposed isolation was over.

The timing could not have been worse, considering she couldn’t have missed the man mowing my lawn.

Maybe she wouldn’t mention it.

Or maybe I was completely fucking delusional.

“I brought coffee and muffins, but the drive over here was long, and it’s hot, so if you’ve got anything cold and alcoholic, I wouldn’t say no,” Gwen chirped, walking through the door.

“I think I have something,” I mumbled.

“What is Kace doing here?” Gwen asked the second she sat down on a bar stool.

To be fair, I was expecting her to ask that question before she’d even got in the door, so she was showing restraint.

“He’s mowing my lawn,” I replied, ignoring the coffee and pouring rosé into two glasses. It was after three on a Sunday, plus I wasn’t alone. It was allowed.

“I see that,” she replied, grinning in approval. “But why is he mowing it?”

“Because he got first-hand knowledge of how terrible I am at doing outdoor chores and took it upon himself to save our lawn,” I quipped.

Gwen raised her brows as she took her glass. “He did that out of the goodness of his heart?”

I shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Honey, these guys are a lot of things. Good isn’t one. I’m not saying they’re bad, there’s just no black and white with them. You know better than anyone.”

I bit my lip. “Well, maybe he feels guilty that the only reason he’s here is because my husband is dead.”

Gwen flinched ever so slightly. My tone was harsh. Cruel.

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she snapped, her eyes tiny slits. “I see you holding all this stuff in. It isn’t healthy. You’re trying so hard to keep it together when this is the one time in life when you can fall apart. You have to. What happened broke you. There’s no hiding that. You don’t have to. Especially around your friends.”

My throat thickened with Gwen’s words, the kindness and love in her eyes. “Okay,” I choked out. “But for now, can we just drink wine and talk about something else?”

“Always,” she agreed, clinking her glass with mine. “And I’m here,” she added. “We all are.”

I smiled at her like her words made a difference.

They really, really didn’t.

Chapter 7

Two Weeks Later

“You’re a little dressed up for a movie night,” I said, looking Amy up and down. She looked how she always looked... fabulous. I had yet to see the woman in sweatpants or anything stained with spit up or any other stains that served as evidence that you’re a mother.

I was pretty sure she was a very powerful witch.

But the skintight, white dress—showing no evidence she’d ever had a child—and six-inch green heels with ties that crawled up her legs was