Chapter 8
“My colors are burgundy, orange, and gold.”
Esme tried to concentrate on what Rayna was telling her, but her head was in another universe. She was still replaying the night before in her head, and one question kept coming back to haunt her: Why did he come into my room?
Not that she minded; if Esme was screaming her head off, obviously she was glad that someone woke her up, but why him?
At every turn, Prettyboy seemed almost angry with her…so why would he try to help her?
“Baby? You here with me?”
Esme jumped in her seat, almost slipping right onto the freshly polished wooden floor beneath her.
“I’m sorry, Rayna. I didn’t hear you, what did you say?,” She asked with a smile.
Rayna eyed her for two seconds, a pile of fake flowers in her arms.
Finally, she sat down in the chair across from Esmeralda and set the flowers down, blowing her blonde hair out of her face.
“Talk to me, Esme. What’s going on? You’ve been distracted all morning,” Rayna said.
Esme sighed and tucked her curly hair back behind her ears.
“I know. I had a rough night,” She admitted.
“You wanna tell me about it?”
Esme decided that, yeah, she did want to talk about it.
She looked around the clubhouse quickly, making sure they were alone- Lord, did Limit like to lurk- before she leaned closer to Rayna.
“Do you know why Prettyboy is mad at me? Did I do something to make him dislike me?”
Rayna’s eyes widened before she slowly shook her head.
“No, I haven't heard anything. Is he still miffed about what happened the other day?”
“Maybe, but I apologized. Last night, I guess I was having a bad nightmare and I was screaming…he woke me up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he came into my room and woke me up. Told me he’d had his fair share of nightmares, that he understood, but I don’t know…why would he help me if he doesn't like me?,” Esme wondered.
Rayna didn't say anything for a long time.
“Prettyboy’s had a hard time since the accident, Esme. He just…When I came here, I wasn’t the same girl the Blazin’ Eagles had kidnapped. I was different. I thought I was ruined, but it took all of the people here to make me feel better. To make me feel grounded, like I wasn’t lost out there in some dark abyss… I think he’s having a harder time because unlike my scars, his are on the outside. His are easily seen,” Rayna explained.
Esme soaked all of that information in, mulled it over until she understood. At least, until she thought she could understand.
“But, I don’t care about his scars.”
Rayna smiled, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
“You don’t?”
“Why would I?”
Rayna rested one of her cool hands on top of Esme’s as she practically bounced in her seat.
“You’d be surprised how many women steer clear of him around here, just because he has scars, baby.”
Esme nodded her head, because of course there would be women out there who were shallow enough to let something like that stop them from getting to know the man beneath. Esme had been determined to be one of them too, because at the end of the day, Axel would return for her and she would leave.
She would go home, to…what?
To an empty bedroom, an empty clubhouse filled with memories that hurt her?
Memories that made her overwhelmed with grief every time she steps inside?
Fuck, Axel sent her to stay with the Seven Deadlies so that she could avoid that. So that she could move on from all of that, so why fight the change?
She could get to know the men and women on Ox’s lot and still leave them behind when the time came. Wouldn't it be a nice change to have friends? More people like Rayna that she could talk to, hang out with, enjoy her days with?
Esmeralda Quinn couldn't deny the tiny tug she felt in her gut when Prettyboy’s green eyes landed on her, but that wasn’t fair to Chris…was it?
“Esme, are you okay?”
Esme nodded.
Spill your guts, Esme.
“I’m thinking about Chris. Logically, I know I’m being foolish by holding on so hard, but I just…he was my first everything. He was my forever…It’s hard to let go,” She told Rayna.
Rayna’s hold on her hand tightened as she nodded.
“Sometimes forever doesn't last as long as we hope it will,” Rayna said sadly.
Esme shifted in her seat so her knees were crossed before she sighed deeply and looked up at Rayna again.
“Just hurts, ya know?”
“I know, baby. What made you think of Chris?”
Rayna’s tone told her she already knew where Esme’s head was at, but Esmeralda wasn’t quite sure how to say it out loud.
How does one say that out loud, that they’re finally attracted to another man that isn’t their husband? Esme knew it was stupid of her to go around in circles about it, but while everyone was in their own versions of the current reality, half of her was still dancing with Chris on their wedding day six months prior.
When she closed her eyes she could almost taste him on her breath; Esme could almost see his shadow around the clubhouse, following her, watching over her…
Most of her heart knew it was wishful thinking, but the small sliver of her psyche that remained lucid was screaming at her to move on.
To stop the agony that coursed through her like a second, third, pulse point.
To allow the rest of her mind to catch up and catch on to the fact that Chris Wilder was no longer her old man. He was nothing but ash or dirt or dust, scattered to the wind just like their marriage vows and their promise of forever.
“I want to get to know everyone here, even if I do leave.”
“Everyone, or Prettyboy?”
Rayna was smiling, but her question still made Esmeralda flinch.
“I don’t know the answer to that, honestly.”
Rayna shrugged as she stood and tugged on Esme’s hand to get her standing too.
“Come on! Let’s get out of here and do something fun for a while. Fury’s been absolutely dreading our cake tasting, do you want to come with me instead? I have an appointment in town in about an hour,” Rayna said.
Esme found herself smiling, even though the last time she’d been cake tasting her life was entirely different.
This is insane, Esme.
“Okay, Rayna Claire. I’ll go cake tasting with you,” She murmured.
Rayna’s whole face lit up as she squealed, her hands clapping together excitedly.
“Thank God! Don’t get me wrong, I love my man, but he’s like a damn grizzly bear with all of the wedding planning.”
Esme didn't know Fury too well, but she had to laugh at the imagery- he was huge, and he did growl most of the time.
“We better get going, baby. Time’s a-wastin’!”
Esme followed closely behind Rayna, their hands still clasped tightly, her fingers gripping Rayna tightly. Esme as almost afraid that if she let go, if she opened her eyes any wider, Rayna and everything around her would disappear. Esme hadn’t encountered any profound changes of her own, not since Chris’s death, but she knew she was due for one soon.
She couldn't go on the way she was, and apparently everyone (including Axel) had known that before she did.
As Esme snapped out of her own inner dialogue, she realized Rayna was leading her directly towards the garage; where none other than Fury and Prettyboy stood, watching them.
Esme noticed that both men, especially Prettyboy, had oil smeared across their tanned skin, but while Fury had a smile on his face, Prettyboy remained stoically silent.
“What’s up, baby?”
Fury’s deep timbre caught Esme’s attention, and she had to force herself to look at him instead of staring into the green eyes practically igniting her skin on fire.
“We’re headed to our cake tasting appointment. You okay if I leave you behind?”
Esme tried not to laugh at the look of utter relief on Fury’s handsome face, but her grin gave away her amusement.
“No offense, but that shit makes me wanna claw my fuckin’ eyes out, baby. You two go, have fun,” Fury said as he leaned forward to press a sensual kiss to Rayna’s lips.
Esme felt herself blush at the public display of affection, so she averted her gaze.
While she was still holding Rayna’s hand, and she was grateful for the physical contact that made her feel all but normal, she couldn't help but glance at Prettyboy; who was still watching her.
“Hi,” She breathed.
His bandana wrinkled for a second as he waved one hand at her; a hand that she realized, was scarred. The puckered, pink flesh caught her gaze and she was surprised that she hadn't noticed it before.
It looked like it hurt, and she wanted to caress it to see if the skin was as rough as it looked, but she couldn't bring herself to say another fucking word.
As if an angel was perched on her shoulder in the form of one Chris Wilder, she heard his voice in her head:
He’s a good man, darlin’.
It had to be a figment of her imagination.
Much like all of their encounters since he died on the side of a winding road.
Since he took his last breath.
Esme knew that she could be considered crazy; how many people still see or talk to their dead spouses? How many people out there are haunted by their loved ones, to the point of hallucinating full on conversations with them?
She didn't know, and she never wanted to find out.
When she looked back at Fury and Rayna, he was handing her a money clip bursting with cash.
She smiled endearingly at him, “I don't need your money,” She said.
Fury winked.
“Humor your old man. Spend a little, have a good day. I’ll be here waitin’ when you get home.”
Rayna’s blue eyes watched Fury for a moment longer and Esme took that opportunity to look at Prettyboy one more time.
“See you later.”
The words slipped from between her teeth as she found herself reaching out for him.
Like a paper clip to a magnet or a moth to a flame, she reached out for him- but at the last second, she let her hand fall between them.
Prettyboy watched her, confused, as she glanced at Rayna and Fury, who were both watching them silently.
“Are you ready?,” Rayna asked softly.
Esme jerked her hand back to her side and nodded.
“Come on, we’ll take my bike.”
Esme’s eyes widened and she tugged her hand out of Rayna’s grip.
“Wait, just- wait a second,” Esme stuttered as they neared a deep purple motorcycle that had the most beautiful custom designs on it; the galaxy, a fluid mixture of dark purple, blue, black, and turquoise.
Rayna turned towards her.
“What’s wrong, baby? You don’t like riding?”
“I haven't been on a bike since Chris died,” She admitted.
Rayna’s eyes widened momentarily before she tugged on Esme’s hand one more time and then let it drop.
“Fury said something to me, once. It was important then, and I think it’s important now. Esme, you’ve done six months of grieving. Six months of active mourning. Nothing will ever fill the place in your heart that belongs to Chris, and I’m not trying to tell you what to do by any means…but at this point, there’s only one thing left that you can do,” Rayna said as she pulled a sparkly purple helmet from her handle bars. Esme watched her untangle the straps to the helmet before she swallowed audibly and asked, “What’s that?”
Rayna smiled sadly and cupped Esme’s cheek with her free hand before she held out the helmet towards her in her other one.
“You heal.”