Chapter 9
Prettyboy watched Esme and Rayna leave, wondering what the hell had just happened between them.
Haven’t I been wondering that since I found her kneeling in a pile of glass?
Since I heard her cries through the bathroom wall?
“You stare after her any harder, your eyes are gonna go crossed,” Fury said.
Prettyboy turned back towards the bike he was restoring.
“I ain’t starin’.”
“Man, you were practically eye-fucking her. Not that I blame you, Esmeralda Quinn is a beautiful woman.”
Prettyboy’s eyes narrowed, but he didn't dare turn back to look at Fury.
He didn't want his brother to see how fucking right he was.
How fucking sad he was.
“You cant keep denyin’ yourself happiness, Prettyboy.”
Of all the things he'd expected to hear, that wasn’t it.
“I’m not.”
He heard the telltale sound of Fury dropping his wrench to the ground, but still, he didn't turn around.
“You and I need to have a talk-”
“There’s nothing to say,” Prettyboy demanded.
Fury came to stand beside him, and the only reason he knew that was because he could suddenly see his black boots in his peripherals from where he sat next to the bike.
“You’ve been in a rut since the shit with the Steel Ponies.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Prettyboy did look up at Fury then, but he didn't see anger lining his features- no, what he saw was much, much worse.
He saw pity.
Fuck…
Fury’s jaw clenched as he rubbed a hand over the bare skin, his greasy hand leaving behind some tendrils of black along his cheek.
“Lizzie’s death wasn’t your fault.”
Prettyboy’s eyes clenched closed and he shook his head.
“Stop it.”
“No! Jesus, it’s been over a year. Ox and everyone else may be okay with you slippin’ away, but I won't let you do that. Look at me, fucker! It wasn’t your fault,” Fury demanded.
Prettyboy stood to his full height, but he was still an inch shorter than Fury.
Size didn't matter to him, though. Not anymore.
“Fuck you, Fury! You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Prettyboy said.
Fury barked out a humorless laugh that echoed the sadness inside of Prettyboy’s chest.
“Of course I do. My sister was murdered. Taken away from me. She was all I had left before Rayna got here!”
Fury shook his dark head before he pressed a finger into Prettyboy’s chest.
“Your face got fucked up. I found you literally melting into the pavement, and I saved you. I stayed by your side, even after Lizzie died. I never blamed you, not once. I’ve watched you wither away into this, this shell of who you used to be. You’re disinterested, you’re quiet, shit man, you’re fuckin’ drowning! I won’t let you go down the same path I followed,” Fury said angrily.
His nostrils flared, but Prettyboy wasn't done yet.
How could he be?
Fury was right on all accounts, except for one…
He stepped closer to Fury.
“Your path led you to Rayna. The best thing thats ever happened to you. Look at me, Fury!,” He paused to lift his bandana, “I don't have some sweet little woman waitin’ for me at the end of my road, brother. Ya know what I’ve got? I’ve got these fuckin’ scars, a limp, and if I’m lucky, I’ll go out guns blazin’.”
Fury’s mouth fell open as he watched Prettyboy, his dark eyes filled with something akin to pain.
“That ain’t true. You got us, your family! And I bet you could have Esmeralda Quinn too,” Fury murmured.
Prettyboy stiffened.
“She ain’t mine to have.”
“You’re wrong. Her old man is gone! It may take some fuckin’ time, and it may hurt like hell, but one day she’s gonna move on. One day she’ll be ready, and from the way you’ve been watching her, I think you’re ready to make that happen.”
Prettyboy felt the truth of that statement all the way down to his bones.
Beneath the scarred flesh, beneath the sturdy protection of his ribcage, beneath the layers of guilt and utter self-loathing.
Prettyboy looked up at Fury, ready to argue, but he realized there was nothing to argue about.
“Let me ask you something, before you leave this conversation pissed off at me,” Fury said.
Prettyboy ran a hand through his hair.
“What?”
“If your path did lead to someone like Esmeralda, would you still be so quick to give up?”
◆◆◆
Esme had her eyes closed for the first half of the ride.
She had to remind herself that she was riding with Rayna, not with Chris, and the reality of that was a bitter pill to swallow.
For months she’d convinced herself that she didn't ever want to ride again, but as soon as she opened her eyes to the blinding sunshine around and the gentle breeze ripping through her hair, she realized she was okay.
Not okay with everything, but okay with riding again.
The scenery around her was beautiful, majestic even.
The tingling sensation she felt deep in her belly wormed its way outwards until sweet, sweet exhilaration had her laughing into the wind in a way she never thought she would again. The bittersweet feeling had her holding onto Rayna and watching with avid interest as they finally swerved into town.
Until she recognized where they were headed.
Until she caught a glimpse of a familiar street…
Just as Esmeralda thought she would, Rayna circled around towards the bakery she'd bought her own wedding cake at.
A three tiered chocolate masterpiece topped with a couple on a motorcycle that had not only tasted delicious, but was a mutual choice for both her and Chris.
Chris loves chocolate.
Loved…
Chris loved chocolate.
As Rayna parked the bike, Esme waited with bated breath for her to turn off the engine. Her thighs were vibrating from the ride, and her heart was pounding in her chest as the memories threatened to flood behind her eyes like a flash flood.
“We’re here,” Rayna said cheerfully.
Briefly, Esme was distracted by the sight of her husband reflected in the glass windows of the bakery; his cut was askew like always. His mouth was perched into a smirk she knew all too well.
Esme felt the tears threaten to overtake her as she watched him wave in her direction, still smiling, still so fucking handsome it almost killed her to see him again-
“Esme!”
Esmeralda jerked at the sound of Rayna’s voice, her wet blue eyes meeting the curious pair trained on her.
“You okay?”
Am I okay?
“Yeah…I’m alright,” Esme whispered.
Except I'm not, and I don’t know when I will be.
Yet, even as she turned back to face the bakery again, she found herself looking for the lean reflection of the man she’d lost.
She found herself looking for that smile as she slowly got off of Rayna’s bike and handed her the helmet she’d been wearing.
“Esme, are you sure you’re alright?”
“This is where Chris and I bought our cake.”
Rayna frowned.
“I’m sorry, I didn't even think about that, baby. Are you going to be able to handle going in there?”
Esme thought about lying, but decided to tell the truth.
“No. No, because I’ve been hiding for six months and all of a sudden I’m out here in the real world, trying to find my way around without him here, and I just…I didn’t know that I would end up here. I didn't know that I would find myself in this predicament and I- I keep telling myself that it’s time to move on, and yet everywhere I look…there he is,” Esme said.
Her chest heaved for a moment, a shaky gesture that had her gritting her teeth.
Rayna watched her like a hawk before she slowly rested the helmet back on the handle bars.
“Esme, I didn't mean to push you. I just thought getting out would make you feel better,” She said.
Esme shook her head and ran her fingers through her long hair.
“Trust me, it’s not you. I thought hiding away was the answer; I thought that if I avoided the memories for long enough, they wouldn't completely fucking suffocate me when they surfaced, but I was wrong. They’re here and he’s everywhere,” She said as she buried her face into her hands.
She pressed her palms against her eyes until she was sure she wouldn't completely lose it, and when she opened them she saw Rayna watching her with those misty eyes again.
“I’m sorry,” She said.
“Don’t apologize. If I lost Fury, I would be worse off than you are by a long shot, Esme. This is normal and I know it’s hard, but if I’ve learned anything in the last year, it’s that you have to face these things head on. You have to lead them, you can’t let them lead you.”
Esme understood that Rayna, in a sense, knew what she was talking about. She was familiar with that spine numbing pain that could swallow a person whole and spit them back out completely mangled.
“If I go in there, I’m going to remember that day vividly. If I go in there Rayna, it’s going to tear me apart inside.”
Rayna glanced at the bakery before she turned and, once again, held a hand out in Esme’s direction.
“If you go in there with me, I’ll get pleasantly intoxicated with you tonight.”
Esme weighed her options: stand outside and ruin her new friend’s cake tasting, or step into that fucking bakery and help her find a fantastic cake for her wedding.
Step into that bakery and face the ghost of her husband.
With trembling fingers she took Rayna’s hand and sighed when she was met with her grin.
“You’re a strong woman, Esmeralda Quinn. And for the record? I’m proud of you.”
Esme tucked that compliment and vote of confidence close to her chest as she stepped over the threshold, the familiar scent nearly knocking her on her ass.
“You can do this, Esme.”
Esme didn't let go of Rayna’s hand as she replied, “I hope you’re right.”