Chapter 4

Never underestimate a woman’s ability to make everything your fault.

-An actual conversation between men

Ellen

One month later

I got my first look at Jessie’s son, and I realized that he looked just like his father did at that age, despite the color difference of his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Linc said as he held his hand out to me.

I took it, refraining from saying that I’d already met him, and smiled at the boy-man.

He was already good-looking, and given time, he’d be breaking hearts left and right once he filled into that tall frame of his.

“Nice to meet you, too, Linc,” I said genuinely.

“How’d you know my name?”

My smile faltered.

“I heard it from some of the other members,” I lied.

His eyes scrutinized me for a few long seconds before he nodded once, turned toward the table that was groaning with the amount of food put on it, and gestured to the plate. “Hungry?”

Hopefully he didn’t catch on that I knew him way before he was able to remember that he did.

He eyed all of the food on the table and reached forward to grab some fruit.

I nearly laughed.

His dad would’ve done the same thing years ago. Given the choice between sweets, chips or fruit, he chose the fruit each and every time.

I turned away and surveyed the room as I waited for Linc to finish with his plate.

The moment he moved, I picked up my own plate, and my hands collided with another person reaching for a plate at the same time.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

Jessie didn’t even acknowledge me.

No eye flicker, no breathing heavier. No nothing.

He just looked at me so impassively that it made me wonder what I’d done to piss him off so badly. Why he’d left me without a word. Why he’d ripped my heart out, stomped on it, and probably laughed as he did it.

My hand burned where our skin had collided, and I idly wondered what in the hell I’d done to deserve this.

Everyone was mad at me. Sean couldn’t even stand to look at me. Tommy was pissed off that I’d hurt his fellow club member. Then there was Jessie. A man who I’d done nothing to, looking at me like I’d skinned his cat right in front of him.

I didn’t even know how to skin a cat!

I got my plate, hands shaking like an alcoholic’s looking for his next bottle, and took a seat at the far side of the patio.

There, I watched the crowd as they all had a good time.

Jessie was talking with his son and Big Papa, the president of this band of misfits, about some football game that had happened last week.

This Friday was, apparently, a huge game for them, and Linc, of course, was the star quarterback.

My stomach hurt.

Looking down at my plate, I realized that I’d eaten it all. I hadn’t even left a single crumb behind.

I threw the plate to the side, sickened with myself, yet again, for eating when I was so clearly in need of a goddamn run.

I should really, really stop stress-eating, but I couldn’t help it. My life, or what had become my life, wasn’t at all what I wanted.

I hated my job. Hated my house. Hated where I was living. And the worst part was seeing all these happy people around me while I was stuck in limbo.

I took one final look at Jessie, then I got up and walked out, choosing to go home to my crappy little house instead of staying here torturing myself.

***

Jessie

“Who’s the woman?”

I looked over at my son, just now realizing that I was staring after Ellen’s retreating form with worry etched all over my face.

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t wipe it off.

“Her name’s Ellen,” I murmured, glancing up at Sean as he watched me speculatively.

Shit.

“How do you know her?” my son asked at the worst possible time.

Kids did that, though. Asked questions.

There was one time when I took my then seven-year-old son out to get a Christmas tree, and he saw an old man with half an arm walking up to us. The man’s wife and grandchildren followed him, the two grandkids dragging the Christmas tree as they moved to the path where the tractor would pick them up.

Upon seeing the old man and his half an arm, my son, embarrassing the shit out of me, walked up to the man, pointed at his mangled stump and said, “That’s a pretty nasty looking arm.”

My hand had moved to cover my face as I’d tried to think of an apology that would make the guy realize that my kid was just being a kid and that he wasn’t normally that rude. At least not intentionally.

But the old man had waved off my apology before it could even leave my lips.

“Kids are kids,” the old man had said. “They don’t know better yet. I’d rather him ask than to be scared of it.”

Right now, though, my kid was sixteen-years-old and could clearly read the tension in the air surrounding us.

Did that stop my kid from continuing to put his foot further into it? Hell no.

“It was obvious to me that she knew you and that you know her,” he continued. “She watched you the entire night, and when she was looking away, you took your turn. It was kind of nauseating, really.”

I glared at my son.

“How about you go home and get your homework done for tomorrow so you don’t fail your test,” I snapped.

Linc held up his hands. “I would, but I’m pretty sure my car’s blocked in.”

I handed him the keys to my motorcycle. “Go.”

He took them, not turning back, knowing that I’d just handed him my trust.

He had a motorcycle, of course. One that he and I had been fixing up since last year, when I’d bought it for him for Christmas. Technically, he wasn't allowed to drive it yet. He had to be 18 to legally ride the motorcycle, but none of the cops in this town would pull my kid over unless he was being a dumbass.

Then he deserved to be pulled over.

“So…” Sean said. “I kind of knew you had a thing for her, but I didn’t know you knew her.”

I was saved from answering by the ring of my phone, and I’d never been happier to be called in to work than I was at that moment.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten,” I grunted.

I waved apologetically at Sean, finishing the rest of my Dr. Pepper as I headed out.

Only to realize that I’d given my kid the keys to my bike not five minutes before.

“Shit,” I sighed, looking at Linc’s car, where it was being blocked by a red Nissan Maxima.

A red Maxima that had a distinctive form in the front seat.

One that was huddled into herself as she cried.

My heart stuttered, and my feet started moving before I could tell them not to.

I knocked on the window, and the moment she heard it, she startled as she looked up at me.

The tears in her eyes, being confirmed now that I could see her face, were enough to make me check my bad mood.

However, the moment she saw me, she started her car and reversed out of the parking spot as fast as she could.

With one final look at me out of her tear-filled eyes, she accelerated down the street, freeing up Linc’s car.

I gritted my teeth at the urge to follow her, instead driving to work and submersing myself in my job.

The moment I was finished, four hours later, I realized that I’d only held off the inevitable.

I was going to have to talk to her. I was going to have to discuss with her what had happened—not necessarily to smooth things over between us or to start our relationship back up where we’d left off, but to give her the closure she so obviously needed.