Page 207 of Seizing Control: Part One

Slash is my safe harbour.

Without him keeping me on an even keel, I don’t know where I’d be.

“I’ll ring you every chance I get,” my husband promises me.

As the other club brothers say their goodbyes, I savour the sight of Slash, knowing that it will be my sole comfort for the next week and a half. I’ve been down this road before with Zeke, yet that experience isn’t holding me in good stead in this instance.

I’m brittle, ready to break.

“Love you, duchess.”

Pushing on to my tiptoes, I loop my arms around his neck.

He hugs me tight.

We hold each other, breathing in unison as we bask in each other’s presence. Our love is visceral. Our bond stronger than ever. It’s the best and worst feeling in the world. On one hand, I couldn’t ask for a better husband. He’s accepted my pregnancy and all the uncertainty that comes with it without flinching. I know it’s rattling his cage, but Slash rarely lets that spill over me. Since the first time he made me whimper Zeke’s name, my husband has been solid. Steadfast. Loving and kind. Everything I could possibly need as I navigate a world without Zeke.

But that’s also the crux of the issue.

The problem we refuse to acknowledge.

Slash isn’t Zeke.

Because Zeke is dead.

And I wish he wasn’t.

Every time I find myself, in the dark of the night, wishing Zeke was in bed with us too, I try to hide my despair from my husband. It never works. Somehow, he knows. He doesn’t say a word while I silently cry. Simply wakes up from a dead sleep like he is instinctually aware of my torment to fuck me hard while I submit to my grief.

Every time, he makes me scream a dead man’s name.

It’s submission at its finest.

A shattering of control that helps me fight the disloyalty that stalks me.

It’s also unfair as hell.

I would change it if I could.

But I can’t.

Ezekiel Miles was my first love. He quite literally died for me. That kind of sacrifice deserves more than a few tears. More than eight weeks spent mourning alone before I fell into his best friend’s arms and allowed him to claim my half of my heart, possess my body, and move into my bed. Every smile I give Slash is a betrayal. Our happiness is a duplicity of the worst kind. Just like the wish I have that Zeke was still with us is a treachery visited upon my husband’s head.

I’ve failed them both.

And it’s a hard lesson to stomach.

“I love you, too.” My voice is thin and reedy as I battle to hide my emotions. When Slash makes no sign of mounting his Harley like his club brothers, I carefully extricate myself from his embrace. “You’ve got to go.”

“Don’t wanna.”

I press my fingers to my lips, then place them in the centre of Slash’s chest. “Ride safe. Ring me often. Return home safely.”

“Home.” He says the word like he hasn’t heard it before, and I realise that it’s the first time I’ve called this house home since I returned from Hades’ farm. “I like that.”

“Me, too.”

Slash’s throat works when he swallows hard. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it and spins on his heel. I keep my shit together as the Shamrocks peel out of the driveway and ride off into the sunrise. The rumbling thunder of their engines hangs in the air for a lot longer than we can see them. It’s an indictment of the time I spend in the front yard, frozen like a statue, unable to face entering the house without my husband.

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