Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The scent of woodsmoke drifted on the warm Texas breeze, wrapping around me from where I sat in the shadows near the edge of the bonfire.
After a long week dealing with a clusterfuck of a misunderstanding with the Red Rock Riot, a New Mexican MC led by two men who made Thane look like a teddy bear, and planning a sitdown with the Fort Worth mafia, I needed a drink.
Kenna’s laughter floated above the bonfire’s crackling and the twang of Hank Williams. She was all fire and warmth, offering too much light for a dark soul like mine. But that didn’t stop the envy from pooling in my chest as she flirted with Hatchet.
He lit up the space. Sometimes I wanted to hate the prick. He made it look effortless, drawing people to him in a way I couldn’t imagine. He might be my best friend, but it still grated on my nerves.
I forced my attention back to Fuse, a longtime friend.
But even as we talked bikes and business, my gaze kept drifting back to Kenna.
The chatter between her and Hatchet quieted, and I couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions that flickered across her face.
One moment, she was soft and happy, her eyes alight with laughter.
The next, something brittle and broken flashed through her expression.
She flinched, and the light in her eyes snuffed out like a birthday candle on a windy day.
I knew pain when I saw it. I’d lived with it long enough in my forty years to recognize it in others.
She muttered something to Hatchet, then slipped into the darkness.
It certainly wasn’t the response Hatchet expected. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his easy smile faltering before he strolled over to where we sat, his usual swagger muted by confusion.
I narrowed my eyes and glanced back to the darkness where Kenna had disappeared, the shadows swallowing her whole.
“Where’s Kenna?” Eva’s question cut through the music and chatter as her eyes searched the area.
“She kind of stormed off.” Hatchet sounded uncertain—a tone I rarely heard from him.
Reaper leveled a look at him while Eva shot him a murderous glare.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
Hatchet held up his palms and took a step back. He’d seen what Eva was capable of, and he sure as shit didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her retribution. I’d laugh at the sight of our enforcer backing down from a five-foot-something woman if I wasn’t worried about why Kenna pulled away.
“Nothing. I swear. We were talking about music. She just … fell apart.”
Eva’s anger flickered to guilt as understanding dawned on her face. “Shit. I forgot,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“Forgot what?” I asked.
Eva shook her head, glancing over to her friend. Pain colored her expression as she spoke in a voice thick with sadness.
“It’s today. The anniversary,” she explained. “Her fiancé died in a car accident the day before their wedding. It’s been three years.”
Silence fell over the group.
“I should check on her. I can’t believe I made her come tonight.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d held in my chest. I cleared my throat. “I got it,” I said as I stood.
My voice came out hoarse, and all eyes shifted to me. I rarely volunteered for anything that wasn’t club business or generally fucking things up.
Eva started to object until Reaper grabbed her hand and gave her a look—one that said he’d explain later why I was the best person to talk to Kenna tonight.
It wasn’t a secret. Any man who’d been a part of the club six years ago knew about the moment my life crumbled.
I grabbed both a fifth of Jack Daniel’s and a bottle of water and stalked quietly toward the darkness.
I found Kenna perched on top of a picnic table behind the clubhouse, her shoulders hunched and her hands clenched in her lap.
She stared into the inky-black night. For a moment, I just watched her.
“Hey,” I said, my voice raw.
Kenna flinched, startled, but she didn’t look at me.
“Thought you might want a drink.”
She kept her eyes trained forward, her face bathed in shadows.
I held both bottles in front of her, and she grabbed the whiskey, unscrewing the top and swallowing a long pull. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glanced at me. The corners of her glassy eyes pulled in anguish.
I slid the bottle of water closer and sat beside her, keeping space between us. The silence stretched, broken by the occasional laugh at the bonfire and the distant melody of country music.
I grabbed the whiskey bottle from her hands, taking a long drink before starting to speak. “Anniversaries are hell.”
Kenna stared at the trees. Her expression stayed unreadable. “Eva figured it out?”
I gave her a slow nod as I swept my gaze over her tense body.
“I hate this day.” She let out a shaky breath. “This isn’t the anniversary he deserved. That we deserved.” She grabbed the whiskey and took another sip before handing it back.
I swallowed a shot of my own. “Six years ago, I was on a run. My old lady was on the back of my bike. We’d fought all day.
I was fuming. Distracted.” I took another swig of the whiskey and handed it to Kenna.
“We were passing through a school zone. A teenager changed lanes. Didn’t even see us. I reacted too slowly.”
Kenna swallowed another mouthful of liquor and glanced at me.
My voice cracked as I continued. “Rose flew off the bike. I hit the pavement. She was gone before I could stand up.”
Kenna stayed silent for a beat before speaking in a flat, acerbic tone. “Is this the part where you tell me everything happens for a reason? Or that Alec is in a better place? Or that he wouldn’t want me to be sad?”
I gave Kenna a grim smile and swiped the bottle from her. “No. This is where I tell you that you’re not alone and offer you more liquor to take the edge off.”
She managed a hollow laugh. “Does it ever work?”
“No. But it’s never stopped me from trying.”
She let out a deep, shaky sigh. “Once I let myself think about Alec, once I open that door, I can’t stop it. It’s like a dam breaking. The guilt, the memories. They drown me.”
Grief bubbled up in my chest, and I pressed the feelings down.
I stared at my scarred knuckles. “For me, it’s like sharp rocks on a sandy beach.
Some days I can walk across it just fine.
Avoid the rocky areas. But other days, the pain cuts me.
Makes me bleed. Sometimes it brings me to my fucking knees. ”
We sat in heavy silence for a long time. I’d heard people say talking about loss helped. Those people were full of shit.
After a while, Kenna exhaled. “I think I want to go home.”
“I’ll take you.”
She scoffed. “I am not getting on a bike right now.”
I laughed, but there was little humor in it. The pain was too salient for that. “I’ll borrow Eva’s Jeep. You want to say goodbye, or should I let them know you need space?”
“Space. Please.” Her small voice was barely audible over the singing cicadas and katydids.
“Drink this,” I ordered as I handed her the water and helped her stand. “I’ll meet you at the Jeep.”
I strode to the group, the remnants of sadness swirling in my chest. The warmth from the fire did nothing for the chill in my soul. Eva looked at me with concern and sympathy, and I grimaced, knowing Reaper had shared pieces of my painful story.
“Kenna wants to go home. Can I borrow your Jeep?”
Eva stood, concern etched into her face. She ran a hand through her hair. “I should talk to her.”
I shook my head and handed her the liquor bottle. “She asked for space. I’ll get her home safe. She’ll be fine.”
Reaper tossed me the keys, and I made my way to the gravel parking lot.
I found Kenna already in the passenger seat, her clenched hands twisted in her lap. The drive was quiet, the rumble of the engine the only sound that filled the air.
Kenna stared out the window until her breath fogged the glass. I kept my eyes on the road, giving her as much privacy as I could in the small space.
It wasn’t until we pulled into her driveway that Kenna broke the silence. Her raw voice echoed across to me, pulling my own pain to the surface.
“Does it ever get easier?”
My hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white, and I put the Jeep into park. “No.” Any other response would be a lie. “You learn to live with it. Like a slice in your skin surrounded by scar tissue.”
I killed the engine and stepped out of the Jeep.
Kenna fumbled with the passenger door handle before I opened it for her.
The liquor was hitting her hard, and she swayed as her feet hit the ground.
Her perfume wafted over me—jasmine, geranium, and rose—reminding me of the smell of my mother’s garden in the mornings.
I steadied Kenna with one arm as I guided her to the front door. She entered the key code three times before crying out in frustration.
“Damn it. I can’t fucking number the numbers.”
“Let me.” I gently pushed her aside and keyed in the code Reaper had given me when Eva lived here. The lock whirred, and I opened the door.
She stepped inside and turned to face me. “Merrick?” Her voice was soft and uncertain. She stared at me with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Her gaze moved up to mine, and my breath caught as she ran a hand down my chest.
“Kenna,” I said in warning, catching her wrist.
Her lips parted as she blinked up at me. “What?” Her voice was innocently high, a desperate edge beneath it.
“I can’t stop the pain.”
“You could try.” She stepped closer to press her body against mine.
Fuck, I wanted to. I could help her silence the memories.
She could help me drown it out, too. But only for a couple of minutes.
The ache that lived in my heart for years wouldn’t go away.
I’d fucking tried. I spent the first year after losing Rose numbing myself with bodies and booze, only to feel emptier each morning after.