I wake to an empty bed and a note on the pillow next to me. Sloane’s note explains that he had to leave to meet his probation officer. I stretch before getting up and dressed for the day. Today, we’re also supposed to be meeting with the Huntington’s attorney. Then there’s the club that are all apparently staying here in town.
Just thinking about all of them being around makes me sick with nerves. I’m not the woman I was, and yet, I still am just that person. I don’t know how to completely change. I don’t know what Sloane and I are. We slept together last night, naked, but only slept.
I waited for him to take things further, knowing that after the evening he had, he probably needed it, but he didn’t even try. He just held me. I wish I could read his thoughts. I wish that I knew what he wanted, and I wish I knew if he really loves me. If I knew he didn’t, walking away would be so much easier. God, I wish I were some kick ass alpha woman.
I slip on a maxi wrap dress. It’s navy with big, light pink and cream flowers on it and long sleeves. Then I slide my feet into nude high heels and finish my makeup before I apply serum to my hair to make it sleek and straight. My front doorbell interrupts my last-minute examination of myself, or rather my cleavage examination, to ensure that it’s not too much for a meeting with attorneys.
Glancing through the peephole, what I see causes me to groan, but I open the door to find MadDog, Mary-Anne, Torch and Cleo on the other side. They’re looking at me with questions, and I know they’re going to bombard me as soon as I let them inside. It’s been three years since I’ve seen any of them, and I was never particularly friendly toward any of them.
“Come on inside,” I murmur as I stand aside and hold the door open. I might as well get this over with.
“Holy shit woman, this is a really great place,” Mary-Anne says as soon as she takes in my living area, kitchen, and breakfast room. I watch as a trail of children run behind her. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she groans. “I thought they would stay in the car.”
“It’s okay,” I smile as I watch them. Walking over to the television, I turn on one of the cartoon channels. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
They all politely decline but make their way into my living space, the women sitting, with the kids, and the men standing, still taking in my expensive San Francisco home. It’s worth at least five times what our home in Shasta was, maybe even more. I wait for them to speak, knowing that they aren’t here for just a friendly little chat.
“How you doin’?” MadDog finally asks.
“I’m fine,” I admit on a nod.
“You left three years ago and never came back. We walk into the hospital room, your face is bruised, and the tension between you and Soar is thick enough to cut with a knife. Then we find out you’re like an heiress. None of us knew, not even Colleen, and she’s known you since you were eighteen,” Mary-Anne says, cutting to the chase.
“Sloane didn’t want anybody to know. He doesn’t like his family. They’ve had issues, except for his little brother Kipling. He’s the only reason Sloane even has contact with his parents. I just found out that Sloane’s childhood was rough. He refuses to talk to me about it,” I say, spilling everything to these people—these people that I know love Sloane whole heartedly and without reservation.
“What about you?” MadDog asks.
“My family was angry when I ran away with Sloane. I was eighteen when we were married. I had just graduated high school and was head-over-heels in love. I didn’t know anything about the club life. As time went on, I realized what he was doing, his involvement, it wasn’t just a rebellious thing. He was the rebel, the bad boy, and I thought he’d change and want to take over his father’s company eventually. As the years went on, I realized, that wasn’t what happened, or that it was ever going to happen,” I explain as I walk over to the windows, unable to look at these people, these genuine people that I’d been lying to for fifteen years.
“Then the women,” Cleo guesses. I nod as I try not to cry.
“He admitted yesterday that he’d been with other women since the beginning. The fifteen-year-old girl inside of me just broke. It’s stupid of me,” I choke.
“What is?” MadDog asks, his voice thick. If I look at him, knowing he’s gazing at me with pity in his eyes, I’ll surely break down.
“Loving him the way I do, the way I always have. Allowing him to continue to screw around on me like that. Wanting a baby, knowing the man I love doesn’t want to give me that. I mean, he’s just offered it to me, his concessions for getting me back for whatever reason. But he doesn’t want it, not really. The man who hit me, he offered me that, a family. Sloane came barreling back into my life, and I broke up with the other guy. He got angry,” I shrug.
“No matter how angry, he shouldn’t have hurt you,” Torch growls.
“I know. Sloane or no Sloane, I wasn’t going to marry Graham. But his offer of a family, at my age, it was tempting, even though I’m not attracted to him,” I admit, watching a few cars pass by my back street. “I’m stupid to complain. Look at all that I have,” I say, waving my hand around before I turn to face them. “I have anything I could ever want. Money is no object.”
“Money doesn’t buy happiness,” Mary-Anne says, her voice soft and quiet.
She was with a successful businessman hoping for security before she met MadDog, and she knows firsthand that money indeed does not buy happiness. A lesson that is sometimes never learned, and other times is a hard lesson to learn.
“I know,” I murmur.
“So what happens now? With his father’s company?” Torch asks, thankfully switching the topic.
“The lawyer will tell us what his will says. I doubt Kalli, his wife, knows what the will says. These men, they’re all very secretive,” I laugh softly. “The plan was that Kipling would take over, after he finished school at Harvard and probably worked for him a while. My guess is that the vice president will take over until Kipling is ready, but who knows.”
“No matter what happens, we want you to know, Genny, that we’re here for you. You’re still family, no matter what,” Mary-Anne says, giving me a sad smile.
“I appreciate that,” I murmur. “I don’t know when the funeral will be, but I should know by the end of today. I can let you all know,” I offer.
“Okay, sounds good, darlin’,” MadDog says solemnly.
“Sure wish you’d come home,” Mary-Anne whispers as she envelopes me in a hug.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
The group leaves a few minutes later, after the men are assured that I’m not too emotional to drive on my own. I feel stupid for spilling everything that I just did to them. It was as if the words just flowed and I couldn’t stop myself. Once everything was out, though, it felt relieving.
Now they know pretty much everything, there’s nothing else to hide anymore from them. I really do like them. I don’t know Torch well, but MadDog is not the man he was when I met him. Mary-Anne has grounded him, and he’s become a wonderful husband and father, proving that you can teach an old dog new tricks. I wish I could have faith that Sloane could truly change, but I don’t think it’s possible.
Sliding into the front seat of my car, I start my engine. After opening the garage door, I head toward the Huntington manor. The lawyer should arrive within the hour, and I want to make sure that both Kalli and Kip are okay.
I haven’t heard a word from Sloane, so as much as I want to believe that he’ll be here for his mother and brother, I’m not planning on holding my breath. I’m going to be there for my mother and brother-in-law, but at this point, I think I need to let Sloane go. I’ll never be what he needs. After twenty years, that is painfully obvious.
“Imogen?” Kip’s voice calls out as he knocks on my car window, making me jump. I didn’t realize I was already here, driving the last few miles in a complete fog.
“Sorry,” I call out.
I wipe the tears from beneath my eyes and gather my purse as Kip opens my door for me, ever the gentleman.
He looks to the seat next to me and I watch his shoulders deflate, “Sloane didn’t come with you?”
“He had to meet with his probation officer this morning,” I explain. Kip nods as he slides his arm around my shoulders. I, in turn, slide my own arm around his waist.
“How was last night?”
“Mom drank until she passed out while she cried,” he admits. It kills me.
“Anytime you want to come over to my place, you just come right on over,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder.
“It’s funny. Sure, he was my dad, but he wasn’t really around much. I mean, he was around more for me than Sloane I think, but it still wasn’t often. It doesn’t seem real yet,” he murmurs as we climb the steps.
“It will when you pick up the phone to call him, excited to tell him something. It’ll hit you then,” I whisper. He makes a noise in the back of his throat before he clears it.
“Yeah.”
Once we’re inside of the house, we separate, and I walk straight to the kitchen to make something for Kalli to eat and drink. Today is going to be another long day, and she’s no doubt hungover as shit.
“You will be tested each time you’re scheduled to come to me. And I will come to you randomly to check on you. I don’t want to hear of you getting pulled over again,” Randall Lundorff, my parole officer, rambles, sounding bored as fuck with his speech. It’s the same speech he gives all of us, just leaving one set of shackles for another.
“Do I have to stay in the county?” I ask.
“You have to stay in the state, and I would prefer if you stay in the county. Where else would you go?” he asks warily, his eyes narrowed on me, though he hasn’t asked me why I wasn’t in my county last night when I was pulled over.
“My wife and I are separated and currently living apart. We’re trying to work things out. She lives in Frisco,” I state. He nods.
“I’ll give you permission to go from her place to yours, but I want all of her information,” he murmurs, shoving a piece of paper and pen at me.
I write down Imogen’s name, address, and phone number. I also give him the information for my mother’s place.
“Who’s this?” he asks after I give him the paper back.
“My father died last night of a heart attack, that’s my mother’s information. I’ll probably be at her place often as well,” I shrug.
“Okay. Don’t get into any trouble. One toe gets out of line, and I can toss your ass right back in your cell. You can finish out your two-years there faster than you can say Bobs your uncle,” he grunts.
“Yes, sir,” I grind out.
I leave with a stack of paperwork, and what dignity I have left, before rushing to my bike. I don’t typically use my car, unless its late at night, wet, or snowing.
I’m already late for the meeting with the lawyer, but hopefully Kip can fill me in when I get there. Then I have some talking to do with Imogen.
I try not to think about last night. About how haunted and sad her eyes looked when I walked into her house. About how silently she made her way upstairs and stripped naked. She looked resigned, as if her body was all I wanted and she was just going to give it to me.
Granted, it was a draining evening, but I couldn’t fuck her like that. Even all those times she was pissed at me and I talked my way back between her legs, she was always white fucking hot for me.
I don’t want to break her, but maybe I have. She’s been so fucking strong all these years, putting up with me and apparently giving up on her dream of children, something I didn’t even realize she’d wanted that badly. I feel like a fucking asshole.
Once I pull over for gas, I check my phone and am surprised to see that Torch has called me. I shove the gas nozzle into my tank and walk away, calling him back.
“You on your way to the city?” he grunts immediately after the second ring.
“Yeah, just stopped off for gas, then heading to my parents. I need to meet with you guys later today.”
“About what?” he questions.
“Something that happened, need to talk to you all,” I inform.
He grunts an okay, before he continues “Normally, I could give a fuck what a brother does with his woman. That’s their shit, and god knows I have my own fucking shit going on. But I gotta tell you, if you aren’t going to do right by your woman you need to let her go,” he murmurs. I’m frozen to my spot in shock.
“Excuse me?”
“Never really knew your woman. Thought she was always some stuck-up cunt who thought she was better than everyone and spread her bitterness around like fucking confetti. I only let Cleo stay with her because we went together on that run before you went in, and it was better than the clubhouse for her without me around at the time,” he explains.
I wonder what the fuck he’s going to say next. What he’s saying now is not the man I’ve come to know as Torch. “She deserves better than your selfish ass,” he states. I can’t hide the shock on my face, so I’m glad he’s not saying this shit in front of me.
My anger rises before I grind out my next words, “Yeah, but I’m what she’s got.”
“Don’t you think you’ve played with her long enough?” he asks, his voice deep and serious, even and not a bit angry.
“She’s mine.”
“I don’t think you understand the meaning of a woman being yours, brother,” he rumbles.
“Yeah? Why don’t you explain that shit to me then,” I growl.
“You’re almost forty years old. Not something I should have to teach you at this age. I will say, when a woman is yours, no other woman compares. Now, if you’re both into playing with other people, that’s a totally different thing; but she doesn’t want to play, and you’re off doin’ shit behind her back. A woman’s yours, you kill yourself giving her the life she deserves, whatever that looks like. Kids, white picket fenced house, whateverthefuck that looks like, you give to her.”
“So what? I let her go, I divorce her and let another man have my woman?” I ask.
“You still don’t get it, brother,” he sighs. “Time to grow the fuck up, Soar. Grow up or let her go.”
The line goes dead, and I grip my phone, hearing it pop in my hand.
I’ll be damned if I let my woman go. I’m a fuck up, and I’ve fucked up, but never again.
She’s mine. I’ll prove that I’m a man, and that I’m all the man she needs. I’ll fucking make her so goddamn happy that nobody, not one single person will question the love I have for her.
No other man touches her. She wants kids and a white picket fence, I’m going to be the man who gives it to her. Not some other fuck, and especially not some fucking pansy in our parents shitty assed social circle. And definitely not Graham.