Epilogue Two
Eddie
Two Months later
I never thought a breakup would hit me this hard.
Everything feels different about this one…
final… over. The words are like open wounds I can’t mend.
No amount of staples, stitches, or glue can fill the void she left me with.
Her absence is felt everywhere. It’s in my mind that’s consumed by thoughts of us, and in my hands that always feel like they are reaching for something they can’t quite grasp.
But most of all, I feel it in my heart that thunders inside my chest with broken stutters and an erratic rhythm every time I see someone who even remotely looks like her.
I’m in my own personal hell, one that I can’t quite shake. It’s why I’ve tortured myself every day since the day of our wedding, hoping and praying that she’d change her mind and come home to me.
She hasn’t, obviously, but that still didn’t stop me from going to the airport the day she was supposed to return home.
At the three-week mark, I found myself in the airport lobby, staring down at the plane ticket with my name. My flight had been canceled, Amber’s doing, but it still had a return flight stamped on it.
I stood there staring at the stupid ticket for hours, noting the time she was supposed to land in my head, and realizing it had long since passed.
My hands trembled with emotion, externally bleeding what was left of my heart through fresh cuts etched into my palms by the thorns not pruned from the roses I bought her.
Roses she’d never see. Roses she’d never accept.
Bitter tears wept from my eyes as I stood there like an idiot—a man so broken he could only hope her stupid plane was delayed instead of the inevitable.
But she never came, and when the last of the arrivals erased from the lobby screen, I was directed out of the airport by a security guard who was just ready to go home.
The look of pity in his eyes was disheartening. He’d seen this before, probably many times in the past, and yet he still ushered me out like I was nothing but a nuisance.
Once outside, I stared up at the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range, admiring the snow-capped tips and heavily forested trails that lead up to Lake Tahoe that were silhouetted by the moon. It was one of our favorite spots, and yet we’d never experience the cool blue water together again.
Somehow, I felt that in my heart, knowing the only woman I ever truly loved had left me for good this time. Where she was, I had no idea, but it was like I could feel the distance between us growing by the second.
As a shooting star crossed the sky, I held my breath, hoping that she was somewhere out there staring up at the stars too?
Everything inside me was unraveling, and I cried out in pain as my hand clenched around the stems of the roses and it cut even more into my palm.
“These fucking stupid flowers!” I growled, knowing it was a dumb idea to buy them in the first place. What did she even have to come back to?
There was a trashcan to my left, and I was seconds away from sending those flowers to a grave they could forever die in, but an older lady passed by me, making me pause.
She had a slight limp to her walk, and was using a cane to guide her.
There was an older gentleman getting out of a car to open the door for her a few feet away.
The way he looked at her was the way I felt every time I looked at Amber… happy... at peace… a family.
Just looking at the two of them made my heart ache even more. That’s what I wanted for me and Amber, a life worth growing old for, but that shit would never happen now. Not after everything that’s happened.
The woman paused and shifted to look my way, giving me a friendly smile. “Are those for me?” she questioned, her eyes twinkling in the twilight as she eyed the flowers in my hand.
Staring down at the sad attempt of an apology Amber would never receive, I sighed, then offered the roses to the woman like a sacrifice.
“Might as well be. The person they were for is gone.”
She frowned a little, but took the flowers gently from my hand, patting my shoulder as she did.
It was like she secretly was lifting an invisible weight off my shoulders, even though the guilt still lingered, and my heart ache squeezed like a vice.
“Sometimes letting go is the only way to move on.” She sniffed the flowers for a second and grinned, showing off her perfect veneers.
“White roses have always been my favorite. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The woman didn’t say anything else after that, she just limped to her husband, embraced him like he was her whole world, and then had him help her into the car like a true gentleman.
Before he got in the car, he saluted me with two fingers, then carefully climbed in beside his wife, leaving me alone to stew in my misery.
I haven’t been back to the airport since…
“You okay, man?” Rich asks as we pull up to the place where we get our license to ride. It’s clear on the other side of town, too far from the airport in my opinion.
“It’s been almost two months, Rich. No one’s seen her.”
He claps my back, frowning. “I know, man. It can’t be easy. I’m sure she’ll come back, eventually.”
Do I even want her to come back?
Her refusal to work anything out, and not even bother to come to Pippa’s funeral spoke wonders about how she felt about us. “If she wanted to work things out, she would’ve come for Pippa’s funeral.”
“Would you want to come to the funeral of the woman who sabotaged your relationship on purpose?”
“I did, even though I shouldn’t have.”
Guilty shivers work their way down my already weak backbone.
I still feel the sting of Poppy’s slap, the way she looked at me with nothing but disdain in her inebriated eyes.
She lost her twin… her best friend… and I was the one who let her go.
Their father and mother weren’t much better.
I only made about two steps inside the church before they kicked my ass out, refusing to let me enter.
Rich was going to leave with me, but I forced him to stay. Someone needed to be there for Poppy. If Wesley wasn’t in prison, he sure as hell would’ve been right there, holding her hand, even though she probably would’ve refused it.
“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”
He shrugs. “Are we talking about Amber or Poppy?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Then no to both. At least for the time being. Give it time, Eddie. Time heals all wounds, they say.”
He shifts uncomfortably, his hair shielding his scars.
“Come on, let’s get this over with. The quicker we get our licenses, the quicker we get our club going.”
The first thing I did after Amber left was go buy the towing business and scrapyard from Old Man Peterson.
He practically gave it to me, selling it to me for far less than we’d talked about.
I was more than thankful. Somehow, it helped me cope with everything, even if it was temporary.
I didn’t even realize how much land came with it, because there were about two acres on the side that weren’t fenced in that were his, and his house that was a few blocks away.
All of it is mine now, and from what I heard, he skipped town not long after, getting as far away from Fernley as he could.
“How’s the building coming along?” Rich questions as we approach the doors.
There’s a nice-looking bike sitting outside.
It’s all black and chrome, but when the sun hits it just right, there are psychedelic swirls of purple glitter that glint in the beams of the sun.
It’s a chameleon paint job, and it’s rad as fuck.
“Pretty good. Should have a clubhouse within a month or two. Not that we have many members yet. Pretty much it’s just you me and Dad, two of his buddies, and Wesley when he gets out.”
“Are we still sticking with the horror theme?”
“Absolutely! Don’t you find it kind of ironic that Old Man Peterson lived on Elm Street?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that shit’s insane. You pick out a road name yet? Or you sticking with Drac?”
“Sticking with it. The count just fits, you know?” My stomach sours as memories of Amber and I filter in. She’s the whole reason I even have the nickname in the first place.
A guy with long auburn hair sits behind a desk when we enter. There are a few other guys sitting just off to our left, waiting for the classes to start. As we walk up to the desk, the guy grins, showing off a row of perfect white teeth. He could be a damn model if he wanted to.
“Hey, you must be Rich and Eddie!” he greets as two dimples form on both sides of his cheeks. “I’m going to be your instructor. The name’s Blake.” He sticks out a hand that I eagerly take. The faster we get this going, the faster I get on my bike and our little club started.
“We are. Thanks for doing this.”
“Eh, it’s nothing. I’ve been riding since I first got my license. This shit’s in my blood.” He grins, running a hand through his long locks.
“You ride with a club?”
He laughs. “Yeah no. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve thought about it, but I just haven’t found the right club, I guess.”
Pointing to me and Rich, I tell him, “We’re forming a club. It won’t be here though; it’ll be in Fernley. I just bought a plot of land out there and I’m building a clubhouse.”
“What kind of club are you looking to put together?”
“We were kinda leaning one percent.”
The guy grimaces. “Ah, you’re wanting one of those clubs.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve seen firsthand what those clubs do to people,” Blake finishes, the smile dropping from his face like a mask falling off.
“My uncle patched into a one-percenter crew down south. Rode with them for years. Thought they were his family until they turned on him for trying to leave. They cut his cut off his back with a goddamn box cutter and left him bleeding out in a ditch.”
Rich and I exchange a glance.