Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,64

was you, sweetie.”

“Me too.”

We let the silence swim between us for a while, it was nice. It shouldn’t have been, now I that knew the truth, the sad truth of Laura Maye’s past. But it only made her more beautiful.

“I am sure you came in here for more than listening to my story,” Laura Maye said finally.

“I don’t even know why I came in here,” I admitted, looking out toward the windows. “I’m a little lost, I guess.”

Laura Maye laughed, not in a cruel way, she didn’t have that in her. “Of course you are, baby. You can’t expect to even know what direction is up right now.”

“But I should. I’m a mother—”

“A damn good one,” Laura Maye interjected. “Doesn’t mean you aren’t human. And you’ve had your heart ripped out in the most brutal of ways, forced to try to keep it together for your kids, for your friends, for the club. You’re allowed to fall apart now and again. You’re allowed to talk to your friends.”

“It feels like I’m failing,” I whispered. “He’s the one in the ground, yet I’m the one rotting. Everything hopeful inside of me, everything romantic, everything that somehow remained untarnished even through the hardest years of our marriage... The things that he nurtured, he grew, they all died. They withered inside of me first. And now I’m just decaying I feel like I’ll decompose until all that’ll be left are rotten pieces of what I used to be.”

“No, baby,” Laura Maye said firmly. “You’re young and you’re strong. Even if you don’t want to, you’re gonna have a second life. Just you wait.”

She said this with such conviction, with such certainty, I actually believed her.

For the afternoon, at least.

Chapter 10

Kace was mowing the lawn again.

Both of the kids were at Asher and Lily’s place. Now that I’d almost, kind of let myself back into the Sons’ fold once more, our rotation of playdates had resumed. Potluck dinners. Cocktail nights. Pre-gaming before any kind of game or school event.

Shopping.

Trips to L.A. to visit Lucy, Rosie and Polly.

Life was almost normal. Except I never had Ranger at my side. Except I was the only one at all of those events who didn’t have a husband anymore.

They didn’t treat me any different, though. Of course they didn’t.

But I was different. There was a reminder in my empty heart every damn day. Walking into houses, bars, stores knowing I’d always be walking in alone. There was no escaping it. The urge to say no to every invitation, wanting to hide at home with wine and my books was overwhelming at times

But I’d done that. For a year, I’d done that. It hadn’t changed anything. Didn’t make the hurt any less. It had only made my children suffer.

So I was sucking it up.

It wasn’t so bad when I got the house to myself for an afternoon. As much as I’d feared being alone, especially in our home, I realized needed it. Needed the time to just be... me instead of ‘mom’.

Ranger used to give me that.

Constant reminders that I was not just a mother. That I was a woman. His and my own. Since I didn’t get reminders like that anymore, I didn’t feel like anything but a mother and a widow. And it was infuriating. I was sick of my own fucking misery. My own pain.

So I had to find a way to get more familiar with it.

Which meant time alone.

Which also meant reorganizing Lily’s dolls—which she hated doing—changing around Jack’s room—which he barely noticed—and sorting out my clothes while studiously avoiding Ranger’s side of the closet.

Then I’d go into the backyard, picking up the rogue toys. Did a little gardening. Made fresh lemonade for when the kids came home. Scones to go with it.

That was another thing I was getting really good at.

Making sure the kids had some kind of treat waiting for them whenever they came home. Fresh baked scones with homemade jam. Cookies. Bread. Lemonade. A new room layout.

Like I could distract them with baked goods and maybe they wouldn’t notice that their dad wasn’t coming home.

It was just as I was putting scones in the oven that the lawn mower started. It gave me a fright, since I’d been doing all my tasks in silence. I didn’t like music anymore. Too many possible encounters with a song that meant something to me. That had meant something to us.

Silence was much safer.

It shouldn’t have been surprised that he was there. He’d been doing this