Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,82

good, but never had I gone a moment without being consumed by feelings.

After losing Ranger, something broke in me. It had needed to. As a sensitive person, I wouldn’t have been able to survive if I’d actually let myself feel all of my grief and pain. It would have destroyed me. So my body and mind worked together, entering survival mode. Dulling down the edges of my feelings. It still hurt, of course. I’d have to be dead not to feel this pain, but everything was muted.

Hence me making the decision to take Kace to bed. Yes, I was still fooling myself into thinking that had been a conscious decision within my control. I had figured that with my heart so broken, my insides so torn and gnarled, that there’d be no way my soul would ever let me feel anything again.

But something was growing. In the rotten soil of my heart. And the best way to kill it was to go on this date. Not ending things with Kace, no. But I couldn’t get too wrapped up in him. So the date was my plan.

“You sure you’re okay to babysit?” I asked Mia, walking into the room, fastening my earrings at the same time.

Her eyes were glued to The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. The kids were in their respective rooms doing their homework, as asked, like aliens had come in and invaded their bodies.

“Okay?” Mia repeated, pausing the episode. “I should be paying you for the opportunity to sit here and watch television gold without worrying about the men in my house spontaneously combusting because I dared to binge reality television. Any time you need to—”

She stopped speaking when she turned her head to look at me. Her eyes flared, and she made a low whistling sound.

“Girl. Wow.”

I smiled. Though I wasn’t usually one to agree with such statements, considering the caliber of women I was always around, I thought I looked pretty wow too.

I figured that Edmond wasn’t the kind of guy who appreciated leather pants and snakeskin boots.

Not that I was about to change myself for a man, but I wanted to try him on, so to speak.

I was wearing a beige skirt that Gwen had leant me then refused to take back, saying it looked better on me. Which was a total lie, but I’d learned after all these years that you couldn’t argue with Gwen. So I’d kept the skirt, thinking I might have use for it on some anniversary or occasion when Ranger and I decided to go fancy. He’d done that for me sometimes. Surprised me with a dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town, or a hotel, a spa. For no special reason.

I’d never gotten to wear the skirt with Ranger. So I was wearing it for another man. For another life I’d been forced into.

The skirt fit snug around my ass, cupping everything expertly, forcing me to wear the skimpiest underwear I could because according to Amy, ”visible panty lines should be a crime”.

My tank was loose, edged with cream lace, tucked into the skirt. I’d gone with studded, spiked heels and various jewelry. My hair was up in a messy bun, and I was wearing more makeup than I had in a long while.

“Momma, you look beautiful,” Lily said, coming from the hallway. Her wide eyes trailed over my outfit. I already knew that I had a little fashionista on my hands. Especially with Gwen and Amy’s influence.

A smile stretched my lips. “Thank you, baby.”

Jack walked in after his sister, heading for the fridge. “Where are you going again?”

“You know, you should always compliment a woman who’s made an effort with her appearance before asking questions,” I told my son.

He rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “You look very pretty,” he retorted.

I smiled wider. “You’re just the sweetest, Jack. Thank you.”

“Where are you going?” he repeated.

“To dinner with a friend,” I replied. No way was I telling my kids I was going on a date. Lily would get the wrong idea, likely getting overly excited. Jack, on the other hand, would not be excited.

As it was, he was already suspicious. “What friend?”

“An old friend from college. Is that okay with you?” I gathered things into my purse, making sure to concentrate on it so I didn’t have to look at my son’s face while I lied to him.

“I guess,” he muttered, pulling a juice box from the refrigerator.

I looked to Mia. “I’ve got lasagna in the fridge, if