Page 230 of Seizing Control: Part One

His understatement hangs in the air.

Our gazes lock in the mirror.

I nod.

He grins.

For the first time in a long time, when I examine my life, I’m able to see past the damage done by Jenna. I acknowledge all the times I’ve shut myself off, denied what I want because I was scared that I wouldn’t be first choice. The truth hits me like a tonne of bricks. In the pursuit of the impossible, I almost lost it all. Being Cherub’s second choice doesn’t make me a loser. All it does is make me her man—and that’s all I’ve ever truly wanted.

To be hers.

To have her as mine.

With or without Lazarus in the picture, I’m not letting my wife go without a fight.

It’s a turn of events she won’t see coming since I haven’t bothered to fight for her before. Instead, I’ve been intent on making her pick me. For months, I’ve tested her, treated her appallingly, made her doubt herself, just so I could feel better about my position in her heart.

Different but equal.

It has to be enough.

Still, I’m not a miracle maker.

My trauma can’t be healed with a solitary epiphany.

So, I’m going to do exactly as she told me—I’m going to take the time I need to come to terms with loving my wife and my son. Embrace my vulnerabilities. Learn how to be the man I once thought I was. Running the Shamrocks is important, nurturing my family is paramount. I need to get comfortable with the idea of Lazarus’ resurrection. Harness my jealous so I can compromise. My heart has to heal to the point where I can be the husband my duchess wants and the father our children deserve.

Only then will I head home to apologise and grovel.

If she’ll still have me...

46

LILY

Four weeks later

Every night I sleep with one ear open. Waiting. Wanting. Wishing. Garrett snuggles in his crib, his light snores the only sounds in the early morning hours. He’s been fed, burped, and will sleep until sunrise.

My son is the easiest baby.

An absolute blessing.

His presence is the only thing keeping me from going insane. With my husband still gone, gallivanting the east coast as he gives those chapters face time and re-secures our alliances with the social motorcycle clubs we use to vet hangabouts, his daily texts are our sole means of communication. Slash won’t speak to me on the phone. Instead, I’m treated to stream of consciousness. His confessions. Declarations of love. His promises to do better after he has his head on straight.

My offer of time has backfired.

I am floundering.

Lost without the big man to hold me together.

Left to doubt my sanity as Zeke remains elusive.

My first love hasn’t returned in the night. His parting gifts, the bracelet charm and the necklace, are the only reasons I still believe that he’s alive. If it wasn’t for them, my mind would’ve beaten my heart into submission again.

Either way, I am still filled with doubt.

Trapped in confusion.

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