“Mmm,” I murmured, turning my face into the soft pillow beneath my head and inhaling deeply. I loved the smell of Jase’s aftershave. Understated, yet softly spicy¸ I could often be found sniffing around his face and neck.

Wait . . . what?

Jase’s aftershave?

I blinked against the pillow, feeling confused and disoriented.

Why in the world . . .

All at once my eyelids flew open as I scrambled into a sitting position, the sudden onslaught of sunlight streaming into the room through the partially open blinds jolting my mind back into conscious awareness. Looking wildly around the room, blinking rapidly, I tried to make sense of what was going on.

Wait . . . not only was I surrounded in Jase’s scent, but I was in Jase’s room!

How in the world . . . ? My gaze landed on Jase, seated on the floor, slumped against the wall and still sound asleep.

“Oh good God,” I muttered, flinging the covers off me, noting with relief that I was still fully dressed in yesterday’s jeans and sweatshirt. Being in this room again, near this man, was the very last thing I needed complicating my life at the moment.

To ensure the bed didn’t squeak, I climbed out as quietly as possible and began tiptoeing my way past Jase and toward the door.

“Dorothy.”

I froze, closing my eyes in dismay. Why? Why! Why couldn’t I ever catch a break? My mother had been right when she’d told me all those years ago that I’d been a disappointment not only to my family but to God as well. God must really and truly hate me.

Crossing my arms over my chest, an attempt at shielding myself from the emotional curveball Jase would surely fling at me, I turned to face him.

Standing only a few feet from me, he scrubbed a hand across his shadowed jaw and attempted an awkward smile. If he were anyone else, looking as disheveled as he did, his short hair a matted mess and in need of a good shave, I would have found him endearing. But he wasn’t anyone else, he was the one person on this earth I couldn’t stand to be around. His face, his body, everything about him was nothing but a painful reminder of the series of tragic events we’d set into motion by simply being together.

“We found you and Tegen sleepin’ on the couch,” he explained, nodding toward his bed. “Cage took her to his room and I just couldn’t let you sleep out there. Gets fuckin’ cold in the middle of the night.”

I nodded briskly. “Thank you.”

He dipped his head but said nothing, just continued to stand there, regarding me in that god-awful needy way he always did.

“Okay,” I said. “Well, uh, thanks—”

“Do you love him?”

My eyes rounded with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Hawk,” he said. “You were sayin’ his name in your sleep.”

I felt my face heat, flushing with both anger and embarrassment. “That is none of your business!” I whispered harshly.

“How is it none of my business?” he demanded. “You were mine, I thought that baby was mine! It was MY FUCKIN’ BUSINESS! And I get it, I fucked up, and I deserved everything that was tossed my way because of it but, god-fuckin’-dammit, it’s been seven years. You got your fuckin’ memory back, and you still can’t say more than two words to me!”

Startled, I took a small step back. Jase’s mood swings had always been unpredictable, but since my injury and my refusal to have anything to do with him, he was downright manic at times, especially when he overindulged in alcohol, which made his temper even worse.

“It’s been seven fuckin’ years, Dorothy!” he repeated. “And you owe me a goddamn explanation!”

My shock bled quickly into anger. “I don’t owe you a damn thing,” I said, seething.

Nostrils flaring, he took a deliberate step toward me. Despite wanting to flee the room, to run from him, I held my ground.

“But you owe him something?” he gritted out. “Why? Why would you come back for him? Why is he any different from me?”

“What is wrong with you?” I cried. “You’re so selfish, Jason! With everything that’s going on right now, you’re still only thinking about you, you, YOU!”

I spun away from him and reached for the door. My fingertips had just barely brushed the knob when I was crushed from behind, Jase’s body pressing up against me, forcing me to flatten uncomfortably against the door. Lowering his head, he buried his face deeply into my hair.

“Do you love him?” His words were spoken softly, his breath warm and familiar against the back of my neck. As he inhaled deeply, purposely breathing me in, I shivered against the sudden onslaught of feelings that were dangerously close to erupting.

“Go to hell,” I whispered.

“I’m already there,” he shot back.

“You have no idea what hell is,” I said, my voice trembling. “You have no idea what it feels like to know that your own selfishness is the reason your son could have died! Or how it feels to be unable to recognize your own daughter’s face, not knowing how to comfort her as she tries desperately to make you to remember her and fails every time. You have no fucking idea what hell is!”

I found myself being spun around. Jase’s hands came down heavy upon my shoulders, weighing me down as he forced me back up against the door.

“I’ve got nothin’ left,” he gritted out angrily, tears filling his eyes. “My girls won’t speak to me, you won’t speak to me, and my brothers think I’m a worthless piece of shit.”

“You’re projecting!” I cried, batting at his arms, trying to free myself. “You think you’re a worthless piece of shit, not them!”

“I AM A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!” he bellowed, using his grip on my shoulders to shake me. My diminutive size in comparison to his was no match for his strength, and my head smashed repeatedly into the door, causing me to cry out in pain.

Then he was gone, backing away from me, his eyes wide with shock, holding his hands up in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, blinking rapidly, shaking his head. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Fists clenched, teeth gritted, my chest heaving, I glared up at him. I was so angry with him, but it was more than that, it was so much more. I still hadn’t forgiven him, that was painfully apparent now. The longer I stared, the angrier I grew, and the angrier I grew, all I could seem to focus on was everything I’d ever done wrong—and almost everything I’d done wrong could be attributed to this man standing before me. We weren’t good for each other, we never had been, but we’d both been blinded by different things, and it had taken far too long to realize it.

He still hadn’t realized it.

But I had.

And once I had, it was as if a dam broke and I could feel myself splitting apart from the inside out. Everything I hadn’t realized I’d been keeping hidden within me for so very long now, it all just burst forth in a rush of mangled emotions and I couldn’t stop it. Nor could I stop what happened next.

I ran at him, sending first my right fist into his chest and then my left, and then I slapped him across the face, over and over again until my hands burned and his face was bright red. Tears streamed down both our faces but still I couldn’t stop. Jase didn’t move; he just took it and the more he took it, the more I wanted to hurt him—for hurting me, for hurting his wife, for hurting our children, for hurting himself, for hurting everyone and ruining everything.

“Look what you did!” I sobbed. “Look what you made me!”

“MOM!”

I hadn’t heard them come in, hadn’t even heard the door open. I was so consumed by emotion, so lost to my rage and my pain, that it wasn’t until I was dragged off Jase, and Tegen was standing between us shoving Jase backward, that I realized we were no longer alone.

“What did you do?” Tegen screamed, slamming her palms into Jase’s chest, sending him staggering backward. “What the fuck did you do?”

“No!” I cried out, trying to wrestle free from my captor’s grip. “No, Tegen! It was me! Stop it, right now!”

Everything and everyone seemed to stop what they were doing, all eyes suddenly on me. The hands gripping my arms fell away and I turned, finding it had been Cage who’d dragged me across the room.

“Out!” I shouted, pointing to the door. “Both of you, get out!”

Looking confused and upset, Tegen shook her head. “Mom?”

“Ouuuuuuuut!” The gravelly scream exploded from the bottom of my lungs and rang loudly throughout the small room.

“Babe,” Cage said softly, stepping forward. He reached out, his large hand engulfing Tegen’s small and trembling one. “Let’s go.”

Reluctant to leave me, she looked between Jase and me, indecision creasing her face. She’d always taken care of me when I hadn’t the strength to do so. When I’d been too weak to stand up for myself, Tegen had been there, fighting my battles, defending my honor.

That would end today.

Today, I wouldn’t spend another minute hating myself for the sins of my past, but instead would draw strength from them.

Today, a lot of things would end.

“Go,” I repeated, my tone softer, more controlled. “Trust me when I tell you that I’m fine.”

She said nothing, but didn’t fight him when Cage tugged her forward. I waited until the door was firmly closed behind them before turning back to Jase.

He stood before me looking as broken on the outside as he was on the inside. Both sides of his face were red and mottled with quickly forming bruises, his bottom lip was split in two places, and two thin trails of blood dripped down his chin.

I stepped forward, staring up at him, into those deep blue eyes I’d once thought I’d never see enough of, had never wanted to look away from.

“Do you remember the day we met?” I whispered, my voice hoarse from screaming.

More tears fell from his eyes as he nodded. “Local store,” he said, his voice cracking. “On the county line.”

“Tegen had the flu,” I said, looking past him at the wall behind him. “My sister was watching her and I was picking up medicine—”

“You had puke on your shirt,” Jase whispered.

“You were wearing your fatigues,” I said. “You were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”

I closed my eyes, picturing him as a young man dressed in military fatigues, holding a large green duffel bag as he stepped inside the small shop.

“You said, ‘Name’s Brady,’” I whispered. “Jason Brady.”

Despite my closed eyes, I could hear Jase’s approach, could feel the heat from his body as he stopped directly in front of me. And when his arms wrapped around me, against my better judgment, I sank into his embrace.

I smiled against his chest. “I remember you asking me, ‘You got a nickname, little Dorothy Matthews? ’Cause that’s a fuckin’ mouthful, right there. Not that I mind a mouthful of pretty girl.’”

Beneath my cheek, Jase’s chest heaved as he snorted. “I was an asshole.”

I nodded. “The worst kind of asshole,” I whispered. “The kind who thinks he’s a good guy.”

Through my shirt, I could feel Jase’s fingertips dig gently into my back, could feel the tension in his arms as he fought to restrain himself from touching me further, more intimately. Good God, I knew this man like the back of my hand. Even after all these years apart, I knew every inch of him, every nuance, every quirk. I knew everything.

That knowledge, how wasteful we’d been, devastated me.

“I’m sorry, Dorothy,” he whispered raggedly.

More tears fell from my eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

Jase’s hand dragged slowly up my back, up into my hair and softly gripping a fistful. I opened my eyes just as his other hand cupped the side of my face, tilting my chin. As he lowered his head, his lips descended upon mine.

I didn’t turn away; I didn’t flinch. I just waited until our lips were almost touching and then I reached up, standing on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck, and I kissed him.

It was a gentle kiss, nothing like the passion-filled ones we’d once shared. A stark difference from the chaotic lives we’d once lived.

It was a forgiving kiss, soft and sweet.

It was a good-bye kiss.

I pulled away from him, licking my lips and tasting his blood.

“You were my first love, Jason Brady,” I whispered, swallowing back the urge to sob.

His hands dropped to his sides, his expression crestfallen. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t leave me again.”

God, my chest was going to collapse in on itself. Who would have thought after so many years apart that finally saying good-bye would hurt this badly? Especially when it would be so easy to say yes, to kiss him again and seal my fate. There was nothing standing in our way anymore, nothing holding either of us back.

Except there was. There was someone very much in our way. And I couldn’t ignore him anymore.

I took a deep breath, and that breath entered my lungs like a thousand shards of glass exploding. “I left you a long time ago,” I whispered, reaching up to place a hand over my breaking heart. “I just didn’t realize it.”

Jase’s features twisted with raw pain. “You love him.” Those three words were barely a whisper, just a rush of air, as if he couldn’t say them fast enough, as if speaking them aloud physically hurt him.

My mouth opened and my lips trembled violently. I’d only said it once before, and only to Tegen in an attempt to explain something to her. No one else had ever known, not even the man himself.

“I love him,” I cried out softly, realizing just how true the words were.

It was true that I’d loved Hawk for a long time, but what I hadn’t realized was the extent of that love, or how deeply ingrained it was within me. Not until this very moment.

I hadn’t rushed home, desperate to find out Hawk’s fate for the sake of his son. Knowing this might be my last chance, I rushed home, desperate to right things with the man I loved, had loved all along.

That realization, that truth, was the single most freeing experience of my entire life. And by far, one of the most painful.

• • •

Jase was glad for the pain radiating from his cheeks and lip; he was so fucking glad for it. Because if his damn face weren’t throbbing, he’d be forced to focus on the pain in his chest, that empty, aching, broken feeling that never seemed to leave him, but had suddenly just amplified in the wake of what had just transpired.

It shouldn’t hurt this badly.

It just shouldn’t. Not after all this time.

But even after all this time, he’d stupidly held out hope, hadn’t he? He’d clung to the memories of their time together like a fucking child clings to its baby blanket, unable to give it up even after that blanket had been chewed on, bled on, tattered, and finally shredded to pieces.

Even after that blanket was no longer a blanket but just a memory.

That was all he and Dorothy were now. Just a fucking memory.

As the door closed behind her, Jase staggered sideways, collapsing backward onto his bed. He needed a drink, but more than that he needed to ride. Seeing as there were several feet of snow on the ground, he wouldn’t be riding anywhere except into a snowbank.

Jesus Christ, he couldn’t stay here in this clubhouse with Dorothy, and he couldn’t go home to that empty house. So now what? What did he do? Where the fuck did he go?

For years now he’d been doing absolutely fucking nothing, just wallowing through life—eating, drinking, sleeping, but barely existing.

So now what?

WHAT THE FUCK NOW?

He sat upright, pushing himself up off the bed. His gaze landed on his leather jacket slung across his dresser top, and the keys to his truck that lay beside it.

“Fuck it,” he muttered. He might not be able to ride, but that didn’t mean he had to sit around this fucking place, feeling sorry for himself, for one second longer.

Grabbing his jacket and cut, he pocketed his keys and then crossed his room, flung open the door, and stalked down the hall.

“Jase?”

Ignoring Cage, he picked up the pace and kept walking.

“JASE!”

“Fuck!” he shouted as he stopped and spun around. “What?”

Jogging down the hall, Cage quickly closed the gap between them. “Where you headed?” he asked.

Cage’s face, a younger but otherwise exact replica of Deuce’s, was filled with concern. And didn’t that just make him feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

“Out.”

“We’re in the middle of some big shit, dude. You sure that’s a good idea?”

“You aren’t president yet,” he shot back.

Cage’s expression didn’t change. “No, but I’m your friend. Your brother.”

His shoulders slumping, Jase closed his eyes. “I just need to get outta here, get some air, get some road time in.”

A jingling sound had him opening his eyes and he found Cage holding out his own keys in offering.

“Take my truck, dude, it handles better than yours.”

“My truck is vintage,” Jase protested.

“Yeah, whatever. Vintage, a piece of shit on wheels . . . same difference.”

Snatching the keys from Cage’s hand, Jase resumed storming down the hall.

“Call if you need somethin’,” Cage yelled after him. “And don’t drink and drive!”

“Fuck off!” Jase yelled, even as he cracked a smile.

No one could ever replace Deuce, at least not in Jase’s opinion, but if the man was eventually going to pass the gavel, Cage was . . .

Well, even if he was married to one of the most feral bitches in the history of bitches, Cage was a good guy and dedicated to the club. Which was more than Jase could say for himself.