Page 52 of Where We Ended

She stopped again, her voice hitching. I soothed her hair, kissing the back of her head. All while my heart rioted in my chest. Taking his hand wasn’t enough.

He was going to die.

“Why didn’t you return to me, Silas?” Her voice was feeble and broken.

My eyes watered at how defeated she sounded. How scared she must have been. If it weren’t for me, she never would have been in that house, or in his bed. She never would have been taken by my father.

Clearing my throat, I finally replied, “I did, baby. It was a little late, but I came.”

She turned in my arms, those green eyes locked on mine in a tangle of pain and hurt.

“I mean before this…why have you waited this long to come for me? Alec said you would have never claimed me if they hadn’t taken me, and part of me feels like you still haven’t. Like you’re death itself, here to steal the rest of my life and run off to hell with it, leaving me abandoned and alone.”

Because you were better off here, without me.

Because all I do is bring death.

Because you deserve to be happy.

Because I love you.

I need you.

I’d die if anything happened to you.

Instead of telling her all of that, I leaned in and kissed her.

She tried to say something else, but I kissed her again and then we were falling back into the sheets, and my hands found her thighs, my cock found her slit, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, I fucked my wife.

FOURTEEN

NATTY

PRESENT

The smell of freshly baked bread filled my lungs, making my nerves settle and a smile stretch on my face. My apron was in its usual spot, even after all the devastation and the explosions, Red had hung it right back where it had always been.

The fabric was black, and soft as I pulled it from the hook and tied it around my waist.

“Figured you would be back in here as soon as you got home,” Red said, coming up from behind me. She set a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

I fought back the urge to cry at how good it felt to have a place that felt like home. People who loved me like family. A place that held something as simple as an apron for me.

“Still baking bread, I see?” I felt a little strange saying it. Only a few days had passed since the explosions, my abduction and yet it felt like everything had changed. Red had been baking loaves of bread for months now, nonstop. No one really knew why, or what was behind it, but the clubhouse constantly smelled like heaven.

Red gave me a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I ever tell you about my kids?”

I fell into familiar rhythm as I dusted the surface with flour and then checked the canisters to see if they’d been replaced.

Flour.

White Sugar.

Brown Sugar.

“You have never mentioned your kids to me, Red,” I mused while sifting through the smaller spices. I was in the mood to make snickerdoodles.

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