Page 7 of All Our Secrets

I don’t see how the two of them were friends.

Then again… I had foolishly convinced myself that he was my friend King the first time I met him. That was proven wrong after each encounter with him. This King and my King sounded so similar that I still found myself eyeing him when his voice drifted too close. In my head, it made sense that my gamer friend would look like Silas King. That wasn’t the case, but I wondered if the ugliness MoodyKing1 spoke of was like that of the scars marring Silas. The ones that weren’t hideous but revealed a past not spoken about. I swore Silas carried a thundercloud over his head. He hated my guts. I was sure of it, but that marred skin didn’t give him the right to treat me so coldly. Even after five years, the man had barely spoken a few sentences to me. Some nights, I’d tell Theodore I was convinced Silas secretly loved him, and that was the reason he disliked me.

Still, despite the voice, deep and gruff, like it hurt his soul every time he was forced to speak, I couldn’t believe I had ever thoughtthisKing could be my gaming buddy. In the end, I didn’t know MoodyKing1 all that well either, despite how close we were. He never told me anything. Then made it worse by ghosting me online. I was an idiot because my heart still pinched tight when I remembered how King had finally asked to meet me in person on the very day he stopped speaking to me altogether.

My husband’s King and mine were assholes if you asked me. I could add that to their similarities. Silas didn’t deserve Theodore. MoodyKing1 didn’t deserve my friendship either.

My gaze flickered across the right side of Silas’s face. Most people would work hard to cover what he wielded like a weapon. He kept his dark hair short—a part of his right side, near his damaged ear, didn’t grow hair because of the scarring. And he kept his beard trimmed, though a good chunk on his scarred side, at his jawline, lacked hair. Those brown eyes were so dark they appeared black, and they conveyed one thing:keep away. Beneath the dark gray long sleeves he wore was an array of colorful ink on his left arm, while scars that matched the ones on his right cheek and ear covered his right arm. Without seeing, I knew more marred skin hid beneath his clothes.

Why was he standing by the bathroom? He couldn’t be waiting for me, could he?

I don’t get it.He’d rarely ever spoken to me. If he was there to say something comforting, it was too little too late. I couldn’t brush off the disdain he’d had for me for years. Not when my life had fallen apart the moment they left on one of their Sunday rides. I refused to listen to words spoken out of obligation.

A muscle in his neck jumped. His body grew more taut the longer I eyedthatside. I did it on purpose. Over the years, I’d discovered that made him react. The first few times, he turned and covered it quickly. I’d felt guilty for staring then. That feeling didn’t last long when he went out of his way to avoid me. After that, I did it on purpose, and he didthis. Sharpened his scowl so it felt like a weapon smacking against me. Once learned that I purposely stared, it happened a lot. No words, but glares. It was a game we played. He made me uncomfortable by not befriending his best friend’s wife, and I looked at him. The parts he didn’t seem to like me staring at.

When I realized how long we’d been glowering, I recovered and stepped forward,awayfrom him.

“You’re pregnant?”

Whether it was the gruffness of his tone or the question, in that second, I couldn’t explain to myselfwhyhe made me anxious. “You were listening to me?”

“What are you going to do?”

My hackles rose. “What do you mean ‘what are you going to do’?”

“Your family lives in Ohio. You don’t plan on moving back there, do you?”

What family? “I have friends and family—Theodore’s family—here. Why would I move?”

“Theo would want the crew to the look after you both.”

I seethed. “You and the others are the reason I lost my husband. If you hadn’t taken that ride every Sunday, my baby’s father would still be here.”

I regretted the words instantly. My husband loved his riding buddies, especially Silas King.

Theodore and Silas were in a motorcycle gang called FCR—Fenkin County Riders. It started out as a group of them from high school who loved motorcycles, but it became much more over the years. They held fundraisers, cookouts, and all sorts of activities for the community. The amount of money they’d given back to the county was inspiring and was one of the things that made me fall for Theodore.

He’s so good.Had been.

Silas pushed himself off the wall. “Theo loved those rides.” Silas averted his gaze in a way that seemed unusual to me. “There are risks with every choice we make. And consequences.”

I know.A sharp, stabbing pain hit my chest.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” A tear dripped down my cheek.

Silas raised his hand, then dropped it, fist tightening just as quickly. He sighed. “Next Sunday, the ride will be for Theo.”

And with that, Silas walked off.

Something about Silas’s words gave a finality to my husband’s death.Theodore’s gone. Gone.And I have to live the rest of my life without him.

Chapter Three:

insufferable woman

Silas

Eight months later…

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