Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,137

had been sooner,” I explained. “If I’d read that when everything was raw and open. When the world didn’t make sense, and I hated it almost as much as I hated myself. If I didn’t have someone like Kace. If I didn’t have friends who pried me out of my own shell of grief.” I looked around at the women who meant everything to me. The cornerstones of my life.

“I’m sure there’s still going to be moments when I want to sink onto the floor or float down the shower drain,” I continued. “But I’m different now. The letter hurt. But I’m used to being hurt now. I recover quicker. I’m at peace with my pain now.”

All of the woman looked at me with glassy love in their eyes. They hurt when I hurt, wanted to fix me. If they couldn’t do that, they’d always be there with a drink, a kind ear and a fuck-load of curse words.

“Love that for you, honey, but I am not at fucking peace with shit,” Amy said, lips thinned. “And I’m planning on punishing my husband in many different ways later on tonight, none of them ending in an orgasm... for him, at least.”

“Cheers to that, bitch,” Gwen chuckled, holding up her glass.

Everyone clinked, laughing. Because that’s what these women did, they turned their lemons into margaritas.

I didn’t see Kace for three days after the letter.

He obviously knew about it. Though the guys didn’t look like the kind of men who would gossip over cosmopolitans, they definitely spilled secrets over beers, whiskies or the dead bodies of their enemies.

They were honestly worse than us, which was kind of saying something since our group had no secrets.

I thought about Ashley and Wire. Her being expert at evading any and all conversations about her love life.

So maybe almost no secrets.

I was also pretty sure Wire kept tight lipped on the whole thing too. Something very interesting was going to play out there, hopefully sooner rather than later.

But what was happening right now was at the forefront of my mind. Or rather, what wasn’t happening right now.

Had Kace heard about the letter and come to his own conclusions about what it would mean? Deciding to cut things off without so much as a word?

No. That wasn’t him.

That was just one of the many possible explanations I’d gone through over the past three days.

I’d had to lie to the kids and say Kace was away on club business because even three days of his absence created a hole in our lives. In our home. It was terrifying. It pissed me off too. How hard was it to fucking text?

It was safe to say I was going through about a thousand different emotions. The most prevalent of which was need. For Kace. To tell him the truth Ranger had given me permission to tell.

He’d given me permission to feel it all.

It wasn’t simple. I was going to struggle with this. With my feelings for Kace and my longing for my husband. I suspected it was going to be a long journey. But I wasn’t about to let it end here.

No fucking way.

Which was why I was at the garage. Wearing my best outfit. Not that his feelings for me could be swayed by an outfit, but it sure did help. A floral sundress that wasn’t exactly ‘biker chic’ but when paired with chunky heeled black boots, a wide black belt and a buttery black leather jacket, it totally worked. The sun, beach days with my kids and Kace had kissed my skin so my legs were bronzed. I showed off a lot of them since the dress ended well above my knee. If the wind blew, you’d see the white lace panties I’d put on for Kace, too, with the hope that things would get that far.

My hair was in wild ringlets around my face. I’d finger brushed some of them softer, but Kace had always commented on my ‘lioness hair’ when I wore it this way.

My makeup was soft, in contrast with everything else harsh about my outfit. A lot of blush to make my cheeks extra rosy. Clear lip-gloss. The kind that was designed by witches because it didn’t smear through even the most intense of make out sessions. My friends had all done the research. A little perfume, but not much.

I looked good. Hopefully not like I was trying too hard.

Of course, there was an audience for my arrival. There was no such thing as