Page 28 of Anchor

I shake my head, refusing to look at him, and I state, “How aboutquid pro quoand I go find a man to screw me from behind, and Travis can stand there and watch, and let’s see if he can get the image of someone screwing his wife out of his head, but it has to be someone he knows, someone who can remind him of what his wife did.”

I feel the tension in the room, but I ignore it and look at my so-called husband, and I snap, “I went to the grocery store this morning, and not only do I get told your long thick dick was fucking the whore last night, but apparently you even talk shit about getting a restraining order against me.” I nod to the other end of the couch and state, “You may want to move further away because I don’t fancy going to jail, especially when I have a child to care for, a child, by the sounds of it, you never even wanted.”

That said, I turn back to our therapist and cross my arms over my chest, refusing to look at Travis again.

“This happened this morning?” Dr. Larsa asks, and I nod once before confirming, “It turns out the clubwhores at the Huntsmen MC don’t even know he’s married, so please tell me why I am even bothering to be here.”

“Because you love me,” Travis whispers, “because deep down in your heart, you know what Ginger said this morning was bullshit. The last time I fucked her was that night you caught us and even then, was only the second time, the first being before I met you, Heaven. Piston can prove that with years of footage; you are the only woman I have been with since. You are my wife, and I love you so fucking much, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t try and fight for our marriage, I wouldn’t be sitting here today with a therapist to win my wife back—and I did want Micha, I was just scared I’d lose you, lose us. We were young, Angel, you were fucking nineteen, I wanted you to have fun and live before we settled down with kids, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love our son.”

My eyes tear up, and I sniffle before blinking several times to try and ensure the tears don’t fall.

Dr. Larsa comments, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but what just happened, it’s a good thing. You are starting to open yourself, Heaven, and this pain you feel, it’s something you need to feel because it doesn’t matter what Anchor says or what excuses he tries to come up with,” she sends Travis a wince before she continues, “he still cheated, and there is no excuse for it. You needed him, and he let you down, but he’s trying to show you, like he has over the ten years, he’s always trying. You now need to figure out if you want him to continue to try or if you want to walk away.”

Travis butts in, “I won’t let her walk away; she’s my life.”

I swallow hard and admit, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have done what you did because, as it stands, I’m still living in the past despite trying to get out of it….”

“I’ll follow you to the school, Angel,” Travis says as we walk out of the therapist's office forty minutes later. I nod, unwilling to talk to him because what he says doesn’t matter. I still feel like he’s lying, but I guess that’s what happens when you break someone’s trust, and they then have a scorned mother in your ear for years.

As we approach his bike, I smirk and look at it, causing him to frown and ask, “Angel?” I turn to him with an evil glint in my eye. He sighs, “What did you do?”

I smile and innocently say, “Nothing, jackass,” before I walk to my car and climb in, not feeling an ounce of guilt.

What did he expect? The man cheated, and the bitch has thrown it in my face since, all while I struggle as a single mother.

The man is a jackass through and through, but he’s a jackass I can’t seem to fall out of love with.

Shaking my head, I start my car, ready to see my son kick some ass at his first home game.

11

Anchor

Jackass. That is what my wife carved into the tank of my bike, and I can’t really blame her; from what she said at the therapist's office, she’s had to listen to shit from Ginger for years.

No wonder she didn’t want to give me another fucking chance. Between that whore and her mother, Heaven hit her limit, and add my fucking mother to mix, who believes Heaven should just take me back, my wife is done.

I lean against the door frame and watch her and Micha add toppings to the three pizzas they’ve just made from scratch together, hating the divide between us.

I know this is all my fault, but I wish she’d give me an inch to prove she can trust me.

Sighing quietly, I push off the door, walk back into the living area, and grab my phone, waking it up.

A picture of my wife and son from today, hugging after his win, comes into view, and I smile sadly before I find the number I want, pressing it, and putting the phone to my ear.

“Brother?” Steal answers after three rings.

“I need a favor, Colt,” I state, using his legal name so he understands how serious I am.

“You name it, Trav,” he replies, showing me we’re not talking as president or vice president right now.

“I need to decrease my hours at the club until I can win Heaven ‘round. The shit I told you about her mother was just the cake without the icing, brother. Turns out Ginger’s been saying shit and showing up wherever my wife is, including today at the grocery store.”

“You got it. Just be at the club for church, and I’ll come up with the excuse the tattoo shop is busy, and as for Ginger, I’ll place her on household chores only; if any brother touches her, they’ll be demoted to prospect, and she’ll be kicked out once you’ve got Heaven back. I can’t do it until you come clean with the brothers, but we’ll get her out, brother,” he promises, and I sigh in relief.

“Thank you, Colt,” I answer before hanging up and looking toward the kitchen door. I smile, seeing my wife giggle and run away from our son, who is chasing her with flour on his hands.

This is the life that we should be having at home, the one I built for them, but we’re not. I just have to fight harder….

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