Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Willow
Five years ago
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, my hands in my hair. “Austin?”
“All you seem to do is yell at me, so what’s the point?”
“I’m not yelling at you!” I yell.
He gives me a pointed look. “Wills, your job is turnin’ you into a crazy person.”
I place my hands on my hips. “Oh, so now I’m crazy?”
“No, I said, your job is makin’ you crazy.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Do you even want to be in this marriage anymore?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Well, do you?”
“Honey, I love you more than anything in this world—”
“But?” I snark. “I know you have an excuse all lined up.”
He shakes his head. “Willow, we both know we can’t do this anymore. You have a job offer, and you need to take it.”
“I want to be with you.”
“I know you do, but this is your dream. Us? I don’t know anymore.”
I stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t say it.”
“You need to spread your wings and fly, baby,” he says. “If that includes me, then I want to work on our marriage, but I don’t know that I’m convinced you do.”
“So now it’s my fault?”
“Did you hear me say those words?” He flings back.
I know I’m irritating and getting angrier by the second. Maybe I haven’t been around lately as much, but that’s no reason to just bail.
“You want out, say it,” I say.
“I don’t, but we both know I can’t do anythin’ right in your eyes.”
“That’s not fair and you know it. Like you’re some Mr. Perfect all wrapped up in a bow?”
“Willow. I love you, but maybe we need a break.”
I stare at him, a cold flush washing over my skin. Life without Austin? I can’t even fathom it. “A b-break?”
“Yeah.”
“You really mean that.” It isn’t even a question. He’s checked out. I can see it in his eyes.
“I want to fight for us, but I don’t know how.”
“It’s easy, you show up every day,” I say, my words stinging just a little.
“Like you do?” He piques a brow.
“See what I mean? We just squabble like little kids.”
“Babe, I’m not askin’ for a divorce, just… this has been a rocky year. Maybe we just need to find ourselves again.”
I take it as a knock to the heart. Just another one in a long line where my family is concerned. “You don’t want me anymore?”
He comes toward me, but I hold up my hands. “Aust. That’s what you’re really saying?”
“Stop puttin’ words in my mouth.”
“Is there someone else?”
“There will never be anyone else. Ever. Got me?”
I shake my head, tears forming. “You don’t know that.”
“I do know, but all we do is fight, and I don’t know how to get past this.”
Why does everything he says sound like goodbye?
I can’t handle this. I don’t deal with my emotions well, and Austin is so much better at expressing himself.
Which is weird, I know, but I’m starting to think I was stunted at birth.
I guess neither of my parents are open people.
We don’t share feelings at home, or talk about anything other than surface stuff.
Heck, my dad will probably throw a party when he hears we may be taking a break.
That’s what breaks my heart the most. I love Austin. But if I’m honest, we do fight. A lot. And I don’t know how to fix it.
“So your answer is to ‘take a break?’” I roll my eyes.
“What about that for better or worse part?” He looks so fucking sad as he shoves his hands in his pockets.
He’s trying. I know he is. But I have a lot of anger.
Holy shit, am I a bitch? Did I do this to us?
I know I can’t take all the blame, but I’m not an easy person to live with.
“It won’t matter what I say, you’ll take it the wrong way.” He throws up his hands and turns to walk away.
“So that’s it?” I fire back. “You’re just gonna walk away?”
“You flinch when I come near you. I need some air.” I watch his back as he retreats. Sadness washes over me. Why am I like this?
Is something wrong with me? Guilt washes over me like a rain cloud, but then I remember his words earlier about never being good enough and all I want to do is please my parents. That made me angry. He’s wrong.
I said my marriage vows, and I meant them. It didn’t matter we were both drunk, and probably out of our minds running off like that, but we made a commitment. Now Austin doesn’t even want to be here.
I love my job and what I do, but I love him, too. It’s almost like he’s asking me to choose, but then saying, ‘spread your wings’. I’m so confused.
My dad’s words come back to haunt me about us getting married too young and it’ll never last.
I don’t want to prove him right, in fact, that’s the last thing I want.
“Don’t leave,” I whisper, but he’s already gone.
Present day
I break myself out of my reverie. Jesus. How long has it been since I thought about that day? Things only went from bad to worse, and Haze left. It was meant to be a break, but our differences and my stubbornness proved to be too much for the both of us.
Back then, I was angry. I guess a part of me still is, but I’ve learned to live with it. I didn’t know it then, but I was suffering from anxiety. Something I wasn’t diagnosed with until a few years ago.
Life felt out of control. I was out of control.
Frustration was an everyday occurrence, and worry morphed into irritability, which in turn overwhelmed me.
Everything boiled over and I snapped at the people I cared about the most. I’ve never really stood up to my dad, not that he’d bat an eyelid if I did.
I’ve always just accepted that he is the way he is, and he cares underneath.
While I’ve come to accept Haze didn’t run away entirely, I wished he’d fought for us. I wish I had too. I also sometimes catch myself wondering what could’ve been.
I’m about to pack up for the day when my phone pings.
Dad
I’ll be a little late for dinner. Meet you at the restaurant at 8?
I sigh. It’s been a long day, but I still need to get a workout in, shower, and get ready.
Me
Fine, Dad. See you then
I turn the lights off in my office and head out.
My phone pings again, and I glance at it as I make my way through the building.
Anonymous
Hey, sis
I come to a full stop. What the hell? Scrambling to type back, I tap out a message.
Me
Max? Where the hell are you?
Anonymous
Look up
I do. I see my brother in the doorway of the precinct, leaning against the wall, grinning haphazardly. I blink as if I’m seeing things. I haven’t seen him for two years.
“Max?” I yell across the room.
He shrugs, his brown curls bouncing as he shifts off the doorframe. “What, no tearful greeting?”
I shake my head, ready to slap him. ‘What the fuck?’ I mouth.
“Surprise!” He embraces me as I stumble into his arms.
“Max, what are you doing here?” I muffle against his shoulder. My brother is huge, like my dad, I sadly didn’t get the tall gene of the family. “Where have you been?” “Gettin’ my life together, sis.”
I pull back and he holds me at arm’s length. “Let me take a look at you.”
“You sound like fricking grandma, and she’s been dead for ten years.”
“You’re mad, and you have every right to be.” I punch him on the arm, then I do it again.
“Ow, that hurt!” He rubs his bicep as I stand with my hands on my hips. “Don’t be mad.”
“So? What gives? Where the heck have you been?” “Let’s talk in the car.” He looks around. “I’m not sure if you’re ready for the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” Of course, I’m happy to see him alive and well, but he’s a shit.
“Max, this isn’t funny,” I say when he slings an arm around my shoulders. “And what the hell are you wearing?” It’s only then I notice the patch, and the smell of leather.
“Now don’t get mad.”
“You seem to be saying that a lot.”
“The Ridgehaven Hellions?” I whisper-shout. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
“Why don’t you sky-write it, I’m not sure New York City heard you.”
Max is happy-go-lucky, but he’s aware that some of his antics could reflect badly on me. Not that I’d ever put that before his welfare, but he’s the one who chose to go off grid.
“Well, I’m mad at you.” I shrug out of his hold. “I haven’t heard from you in almost two years, asswipe.”
“Stick and stones, big sis.” He grins down at me. “I’ve been gettin’ my shit together as it happens. Tryin’ to make you proud of me.”
“By joining the Hellions?” I shake my head. “Bikers just won’t leave me alone.” I mutter that last part.
“You’re right on that, but only because we care.”
Of course, my brother knows all about Haze and the Rebels.
Haze joined the MC after we broke up, but he’d been involved with the club for a few years before that.
Something else we fought about. Back then, I didn’t understand the Rebels.
To me, any biker club was an outlaw club, or a 1% as they call themselves.
The Rebels are a legit club, meaning they don’t run in illegal circles and aren’t involved in drugs and guns.
That doesn’t mean they’re angels by any means, but I understand the differences.
Haze has never touched drugs in his life, and I know he wouldn’t surround himself with men like that, but the stigma is still there.
I know enough now to understand that not all MC clubs are like that, and I like Cash, I think he runs a tight ship, and I respect that.
Am I a fan of vigilante justice? No, but here we are.
“Jesus, Maxi. I don’t believe this. Why the Hellions?”
“I got into some trouble,” he starts. “And things went from bad to worse. Bane helped me out.”
Bane Adler — the MC Prez for the Hellions. Now I’m just mad. “And you didn’t think to call me?”
“I wanted to figure shit out on my own. You’d already done so much for me, and I didn’t wanna disappoint you by flunking out again on you.”
Unlike me, Max has no problems expressing how he really feels.
“You make me sound like the Wicked Witch,” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest. “Trust me, I’m used to the men in this family disappointing me.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t want to drag you down with me,” he states. I’ll give my brother some credit, he’s many things, but never a liar.
When we get to the curb, I see a motorcycle parked right in front of the building. “Yours?”
He grins. “Did her up myself. Nice, right?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t you just paying for all that chrome?”
He swings his arm around my neck again. “Don’t be mean. Anyways, I’m on Dad Duty until he gets his ass to dinner.”
I frown. “Wait, Dad knows you’re here?”
He chuckles. “Uh, yeah. I knew he’d be in town. It’s fucked, but it’ll be quaint, just the three of us.” “Quaint?” I roll my eyes. “Jesus, bro. I don’t know where you’ve been for the last two fucking years, but you need your mouth washing out with soap.” “Touche, sis,” he laughs. “Touche.”