Hades's Second Chance

9. Hades

Chapter nine

Hades

On Friday night, the clubhouse was crammed with people. I slouched at a table in the corner, alone, examining the depths of my glass. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Pretty Boy and Lila talking at the bar, gesturing in my direction.

I groaned as Pretty Boy made his way to my table. He settled into the booth across from me.

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” I said flatly.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

I shook my head.

“Not a drop.”

Pretty Boy narrowed his eyes, skeptical. I shoved my glass toward him, sliding it across the table. He caught it and gave it a sniff.

“Apple juice?”

“With sparkling water to jazz it up.”

“So, you’re actually sober?” Pretty Boy ventured.

“Unfortunately. Wish I wasn’t, though, if that counts for anything.”

Pretty Boy heaved a sigh and shook his head. Word travels fast in a small town, and even faster in a motorcycle club. Everyone had heard what happened on Jenny’s front lawn a week ago.

“When was the last time you slept in your own bed?” Pretty Boy asked.

I grimaced and shrugged.

“Doesn't matter."

Bruiser and Ironside dumped me in one of the back rooms of the clubhouse to sleep off my drunk stupor last week, and I’d been here ever since.

I didn’t have the guts to face my apartment, with Mia and Casey’s empty beds, knowing my children were slipping through my fingers and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

Pretty Boy folded his arms on the table, leaning close.

“Your kids love you, Hades,” he said. “This lawyer prick can get the law on his side all he wants, but in the end, Mia and Casey are fighters, just like their Dad. They won’t give up on you.”

I nodded, grateful to have his support. Sometimes, I had to admit that it wasn’t easy learning how to take orders from a President who was more than a decade younger than me.

Especially when Pretty Boy used to be such a smug, cocky hothead.

His marriage to Lila had balanced him out these past few years though, shaping him into a leader worth following.

“Bruiser says you should break this new boyfriend’s kneecaps,” Pretty Boy added.

I huffed a laugh.

“Believe me, that’s tempting. But if he makes my Jenny happy—truly happy—I won’t fuck it up for her. I’ve done enough damage already.”

A flicker of movement drew my attention past Pretty Boy’s shoulder, to the clubhouse door. Bikers, drifters, and club bunnies had been filing in and out all night, so it shouldn’t have made a difference to me who came and went by now.

But something pulled my gaze toward the door anyway. I spotted my Jenny, standing on the threshold. Her lemon yellow sundress was freckled with little white daisies, and her hair was curled in ringlets around her face, with a touch of blush on her cheeks and eyeliner…

My Jenny was dressed up for a date.

My stomach sank at that realization. She scanned the clubhouse until she found Lila by the bar, and her face crumpled.

Seeing her tear up like that, I was halfway out of my chair when Pretty Boy grabbed the back of my cut and pulled me down.

“She’s not here for you, brother,” he said.

Lila hurried to Jenny’s side. They bowed their heads together, talking for a moment, then vanished into the kitchen.

“That asshole made my wife cry,” I said.

“Even if he did, you can’t go barging in there right now,” Pretty Boy pointed out.

“But—”

“Jenny went to Lila. Not you.”

That stung. It was the truth, but it still hurt. I gritted my teeth, steaming, fighting to stay seated in my chair. After a minute or two, Pretty Boy’s phone buzzed with a text. He fished it out of his cut pocket and glanced at the screen.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s Lila. Jenny got dumped.”

I sputtered.

“What kind of fucking bastard dumps a woman like my Jenny?”

Pretty Boy held up a hand to silence me.

“She said it was because of you.”

I blinked with surprise and sagged into my seat, deflated like a punctured balloon. I ran my hands through my hair, wracked with guilt.

“Did she—?”

“I don’t know any details,” Pretty Boy cut in. “But I think that’s more than enough.”

Bile burned the back of my throat. What did I do to ruin her chance at happiness? Was it because I showed up on her lawn drunk? Or was it my refusal to date somebody else and move on? Or maybe I was getting in the way and holding her back from living a better life?

Pretty Boy gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

“Can I get you a whiskey?”

“Yeah,” I croaked. “And keep ‘em coming until I can’t remember my own name.”

He nodded and headed for the bar. I consoled myself by envisioning the grip of a baseball bat in my hands, taking a swing at that smug Greyson’s kneecaps after all.

“Simon.”

My head snapped up at the sound of Jenny’s voice. She stood at the head of my table, twisting her fingers into her skirt. Her beautiful hazel eyes were rimmed with red from crying.

“Hey, honey,” I whispered.

Silence stretched between us for a moment. I didn’t know if I had a right to touch her anymore. But I reached out anyway, offering my hand to her.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, deliberating. Then she placed her palm in mine. I closed my fingers around hers, my wedding ring glinting in the dim light of the clubhouse.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” I said.

Jenny gave a beleaguered sigh.

“In your eyes, no man will ever be good enough for me.”

“I should know better than anyone how true that is,” I replied. “I fumbled an amazing woman, a beautiful wife, and I’ll be regretting that for as long as I live.”

“Oh, Simon,” she said softly.

Heads were beginning to turn in the clubhouse, watching us. Tarzan, Trooper, and Brass craned their necks, snooping on my private moment with Jenny. I pushed my chair back and rose to my feet, drawing Jenny closer.

“Let’s talk somewhere quiet,” I said. “Without an audience.”

Jenny’s shoulder bumped against mine as I led her down the corridor to the spare room where I had been bunking for the past week. She glanced around at the pile of dirty clothes in the corner, the stack of dishes on the table, the rumpled bed sheets.

“Have you been staying here?” she asked.

I swept the dishes into the adjoining bathroom’s sink and out of sight. Then I shoved the dirty clothes into the closet.

“It’s just for a little while. I…um…got lazy. Didn’t feel like making the drive back to my apartment.”

“It’s barely five minutes from the bar, Simon,” Jenny said.

I shrugged and scrubbed the back of my neck. She glanced away, absently fluffing the pillows, before she sat on the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap.

“I hate that goddamn apartment, mi amor,” I said. “It doesn’t feel like home. At least when I’m here, the club distracts me from…”

From losing you and the kids.

Jenny’s eyes softened. She patted the mattress, inviting me to take a seat. I crossed the room and sat beside her. The lemon yellow fabric of her skirt brushed against my black jeans.

“I swore I wouldn’t be like my old man,” I said.

“He constantly reminded me what a burden I was on his life. I saw the strain of his relentless cruelty and criticism on my mother’s face.

I really thought that if I worked hard enough, if I was there for you and the kids, no matter what, things would be different.

But I guess I still fucked everything up. ”

“Simon,” Jenny said gently. “You are nothing like your father.”

“But your boyfriend dumped you because of me,” I countered. “If I was a better husband, you wouldn’t want a divorce. You wouldn’t want to marry anyone else. You wouldn’t want—”

“It’s not what you think.”

I frowned, confused. She examined her hands, scrubbing her palm with her thumb.

“Even when I’m with another man, you’re the one on my mind.”

I snapped my mouth shut with surprise. Jenny blew out a breath of frustration and her throat worked as she swallowed hard. I shifted until my thigh pressed against hers.

“Greyson was great on paper,” she continued. I bristled, but tamped it down. “That’s all it was. Just paper. I didn’t love him. He didn’t make me feel the way you do. Greyson broke up with me because…I’m not over you.”

Was I dreaming? Did Jenny actually say those words? Or was she simply crawling back to me for comfort?

“I’m scared, Simon,” Jenny whispered. “You lay everything on the line—for me, for the kids, for your club. I’m terrified that I’ll wake up one day and you’re just…gone.”

I brushed my knuckles against her cheek. She closed her eyes with a sigh, nuzzling into my hand. Unbuttoning my shirt, I took her by the wrist and pressed her palm to my chest. Instantly, her fingertips found the scar above my heart where that bullet had hit me years ago.

“Do you feel that?” I said.

Jenny nodded, blinking rapidly as her eyes grew misty.

“I should have died that day,” I went on. “But I didn’t. Because of you. Because of our brand new baby girl. My family was the reason I will always fight like hell to stay alive.”

She raised her gaze to meet mine. I folded like a house of cards when she pushed me back against the mattress, climbing on top to straddle me. The warmth of her soft, thick thighs bracketed my hips, making my cock twitch.

Jenny pressed her face into my neck with a flurry of delicate kitten kisses, working her way down my chest.

But I threaded my fingers into her pretty, done-up curls, and I angled her head to look at me again.

“I won’t be a rebound for you anymore, mi amor,” I growled. “You’re mine. End of discussion. Is that clear?”

Jenny nodded, her pupils dilated full black. She stretched out against me, pressing her tits to my chest. I stifled a moan, forcing myself to sit still instead of grinding into her hip like I wanted to.

“Show me that I belong to you,” Jenny murmured. “Mark me. Claim me. Remind me what a good husband you are.”

A rumble emanated deep in my chest. I smoothed my hands down to grab her ass so hard that Jenny squealed.

“No,” I said.

She blinked at me, surprised.

“No?”

“Those damn divorce papers are still floating around,” I replied. “For seven years, you have been reminding me that we’re legally divorced. I intend to fix that. So, I’ll take you on dates and I’ll propose all over again.”

A small smile played across Jenny’s lips.

“According to your club, I thought we were still married."

I gripped Jenny’s hips, rutting up against her clothed pussy. A shudder rippled down her back with a whine of desperation.

“That’s true. But if I’m going to get my wife back, I plan to do it right. And I’ll make sure that you can clearly see I’m the only man who will worship the ground you walk on, honey.”

Jenny slid her hands up my chest and around my neck, kissing me. Her tongue slipped past my lips, tangling with mine. She pushed my cut off my shoulders, palming at the ridge of my cock through my jeans.

I shook my head, prying her hand away from me.

“Not like this,” I said. “Not when you’re still dressed up for him.”

“Then get me naked for you,” she replied.

I swore under my breath. Within seconds, I had her dress off and her panties on the floor. As soon as Jenny unhooked her bra and her tits spilled free, I swept her into my arms, tugging her under the sheets with me. She huffed a faint laugh, peeling my shirt off and snuggling closer.

The sweet musk of her arousal hung heavy in the air. All I had to do was get rid of my jeans and I could be inside her in a heartbeat.

Instead, I gathered Jenny close, caressing her bare skin and breathing her in.

“Simon,” she pleaded, wriggling against me. “What are you waiting for?”

I thought I'd lost her. I thought I would never be able to hold her like this again. Of course I craved sex just as much as she did right now.

But I needed to make sure she meant it. I needed to see that she wouldn’t change her mind after we slept together.

“Just…stay here, mi amor,” I mumbled into her shoulder.

Jenny turned to face me, hitching her leg over my hip. Her fingers traced the tattoo ink on my chest, skimming quickly over the bullet’s scar as if she didn’t like to dwell on it for too long. Then she interlaced our hands together, pressing her lips to my gold wedding ring.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours, Simon, my loyal, loving husband. I will always be yours.”