Chapter 5 Cece #2
Maizie reaches over and places her hand over mine that rests in my lap. “I know.” She releases a humorless laugh. “Jesus, even when Nolan isn’t around anymore, he can sure fuck up people’s lives.” Maizie squeezes my hand. “How are you doing now?”
I blow out a breath. “Not great. But I’m working on it.”
Maizie lifts her brows and nods. “I get it. We all love you, Cece. We just want to help you however we can.”
Hearing the same sentiment from my sister tends to grate on my nerves, but Maizie is different. I’m not sure how or why, but when she says it, I don’t feel pressure to show her that I’m fine and moving past…everything.
“You know, I bet if you went and talked to Betsy, she’d still want you to sell your bread and pastries at the coffee shop. I don’t know, maybe it will give you something to focus on other than…” She glances at Wyatt, unsure how to say what she really wants to.
“Getting drunk and making an ass out of yourself in public,” he finishes for her.
“Wyatt,” Maizie admonishes, her eyes going round as saucers.
“What?” the biker asks. “There’s no point in beating around the bush. It’s not like Lucy probably hasn’t already handed her ass to her.”
“You’re right,” I say. I could be offended by the way he callously described the other night, but it’s the truth, and if there’s one thing I appreciate about all the brothers, it’s that they don’t mince words. “Drinking to cover how I was feeling wasn’t working. For anyone.”
“Good,” Wyatt says. “Maybe let Cash know, too.”
My head rears back. “What does Cash have to do with anything?”
“He cares about you. Not in the same way the rest of us do, either.”
Maizie smacks Wyatt in the chest and shakes her head. “Don’t listen to him. He thinks he’s some relationship guru now.”
“I know a thing or two,” he gripes.
“Anyways,” she says, shooting Wyatt a look.
I’ve seen Lucy give Jude the same look. It means there’s going to be a private conversation later.
“You should give Betsy a call. I really think it would be good for you, and I know it would help her out. She always says she’s going to retire early just so she can sleep in. ”
I smile, remembering all the times I’ve heard Betsy make that joke. Before the kidnapping, I had every intention of calling her and talking to her about selling some of my baked goods in her shop. But after? Nope. I’m not going backward. Not anymore.
“I’ll give her a call.” I check the time on my phone.
Though I left the house early, I need to get on the road so I can meet Roman.
“Next time you come to the park, I’d love it if you gave me a call…
if you want,” I finish, feeling suddenly unsure that Maizie even wants me around Colby anymore.
“I meant what I said. I really want to spend time with Colby again, if that’s okay with you. ”
Maizie smiles as she stands and wraps her arms around me. “Of course it is.”
I squeeze her back, and when we separate, Maizie has a much warmer smile on her face than she did when I first got here.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says.
I turn toward Colby, who is excitedly chatting with one of his friends. Colby has always been animated and open with the other kids at the park. To see he’s still the same way, even after what we went through, fills me with a relief I didn’t know I needed.
“Bye, Colby,” I call to him, and he turns toward me and waves his little arm over his head before returning to his conversation.
I face Maizie and Wyatt. “I’ll see you later,” I say, then head to my car, my eyes filling with tears, but this time it’s because I’m happy.
Colby is okay, and the guilt I didn’t realize I was carrying around is alleviated.
He was taken while he was with me. I couldn’t protect him; I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t save us.
But if I have it my way, that’s all going to change.
When I walk into the diner, I stand at the front, looking around at the customers. There’s a couple in a booth by the window, smiling at each other. An older man sits at the long counter, sipping his coffee, and a mom with two kids sits in another booth.
Looking toward the back of the diner, I spot a man with salt-and-pepper hair.
He’s sitting with his back against the wall but in full view of the front door, with his gaze trained on me.
His black T-shirt stretches across his muscular shoulders and biceps.
His eyes hold that certain something I see in the men in the club.
It’s a look of quiet confidence and a soul-deep surety that they can handle themselves in any situation.
There’s no doubt this is the man I’m here to meet.
Roman stands as I walk toward him. He’s a giant wall of muscle, easily rivaling Braxton, the tallest of all the brothers.
Under normal circumstances, I would be terrified of someone of Roman’s size.
Especially if we weren’t meeting in a bright diner in the middle of the day.
But the closer I get, the more I realize that beneath his assured gaze lies a softness I didn’t see at first. His mouth isn’t pressed into a firm line, but a quiet smile.
A smile that says he’s had this conversation with women in my situation before and knows how to make himself look… not so scary and intimidating.
“Cece,” he greets and holds out his hand.
I slip mine into his, and he squeezes—not with a firm, controlled shake, but with a reassuring, light pressure.
A soft greeting for someone who he assumes is here after being hurt by a man.
That part is true, but I’m not here for him to take care of my problem for me. Just the opposite, in fact.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, and he waves his hand toward the chair in front of him, gesturing for me to have a seat.
The waitress comes over with a pot of coffee. “You want something to drink, hon?”
I flip the white mug sitting on the table and smile at her. “Coffee would be great.”
She pours, and before she leaves, she asks me if I’d like something to eat. I politely decline, and Roman eyes my slender frame.
“Not much of an appetite?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nerves, I guess.”
He nods his head with a knowing look in his brown eyes. “I get that. But you’re safe here.”
I can’t help the scoff that comes from me. “Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that. But I think we both know that’s not entirely true.”
At that, his eyes narrow, a question in his gaze. “Why do you say that?”
“Is anybody ever really safe? I could walk out of here right now and get mugged. Or taken somewhere and have awful things done to my body just because I look a certain way, or because I remind some psycho of his ex-girlfriend. I could be stolen right off the street and sold to the highest bidder. Or shot on that same street because I was in the way of someone who someone else wanted dead.” I shake my head. “No one is safe. Not really.”
Roman sits back in his seat, his eyes widened in surprise. “That’s a pretty sad way to look at the world.”
I shrug. “It’s realistic. And honest.”
He tilts his head to the side as he continues to study me. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t the meeting I was expecting?”
“What exactly were you expecting?”
“Someone who needs something. Like a message sent to an ex that he’d better leave you alone—or else. That’s what I usually do.”
“Fight fire with fire?” I ask.
“Something like that. But you aren’t screaming abused woman who’s looking for help to make sure her abusive ex never comes back into the picture.”
“I’m not.”
Roman crosses his arms over his wide chest. “So what are you here for, Cece Thomas?”
I lean forward and cross my arms on the table. “I’m going to tell you a little about me.”
He waves his hand. “Please do.”
“I didn’t grow up around here. I was born outside a little town in Nevada, not too far from the Arizona border. But I didn’t know exactly where I lived until I was much older.”
His brow arches in silent question.
“I was born on a cult compound. My father was an elder. Well, not always. He gained his elder status after marrying me off to the much older cult leader. When I was sixteen.”
Now, both of Roman’s eyebrows are nearly touching his hairline as he blows out a deep breath. “Yeah. Not what I was expecting.”
“I don’t think most people would.”
“Before you keep going, I think it’s only fair to tell you that I looked into you, Cecilia Thomas, resident of Shine, Massachusetts. I found your school records. Elementary, junior high and high school. And your birth certificate and driver’s license.”
Roman looks at me as though I’m going to react as though I’ve been caught in a lie. But the lie is everything he found, courtesy of Liam, Jude’s older brother.
“It’s all fake,” I tell him.
One brow arches in skepticism. “Come again?”
“Have you ever heard of the Ashcroft Agency?”
“Any relation to the Jude Ashcroft who you live with? If your address isn’t fake, that is.” He’s wearing a small smirk now.
“His brother, actually. My sister ran away from the cult when she was seventeen. Was on the run until she hooked up with Jude. That’s who got me out.”
“I’d love to hear that story.”
I shake my head. “I got out along with all the women and children. That’s all I’m going to say.” I’m not about to implicate my family in the mass murder of every abusive piece of shit who got what they deserved.
Roman nods. “I’ve heard of the Ashcroft Agency. Not much, but I know they do security-for-hire work. I also know that Jude Ashcroft runs with the Black Roses MC. Is one of them the reason you called me?”