Page 58 of Anchor

“I don’t know, Bud. The clubhouse and your mom, well, she doesn’t like it there,” I admit, and he nods in understanding, acting all grown up for a ten-year-old.

“Mom will get there,” he says before he turns back to the TV, not complaining that he can’t meet all the brothers yet, understanding his mom’s fears. I walk into the dark oak open kitchen with the large glass door, the dining table to the right, with a breakfast bar separating them.

Slowly, I open the glass sliding door and walk out, shutting it behind me. I wait for her to turn, but she doesn’t. Instead, she continues to stare off into the distance, the soccer net right at the end of the yard next to the swing set.

I hear her sniffle, and instantly, I feel like a fucking dickhead.

I’ve been so focused on myself and how I feel that I haven’t stopped to think of her. Honestly, even though she goes to sleep on the edge of the bed, refusing to cuddle, she always gravitates toward me, but it’s not enough. I miss her voice. I missher.

How I went ten years without her in our home, together, I’ll never fucking know.

“Heaven,” I say to get her attention. She tenses, but she doesn’t cower; instead, she turns, looking my way as she crosses her arms over her chest, not bothering to hide her tears. I can’t even take her in because of the pain that’s shining in her eyes, and I sigh. “I’m so sorry, Angel.” I walk over to her, wrapping my arms around her waist, placing my face into her neck, ignoring how uncomfortable it is with her arms crossed between us.

“I’ve been a fucking idiot, and I’m so sorry,” I rasp, and it takes her a few minutes, but she relents and moves her arms, wrapping them around my neck as she steps up on her tiptoes to hold me tight. Everything in me relaxes as I lift her, causing her to wrap her legs around my waist. She straddles me as I take a seat on the rocking swing on the deck, not once letting go of her.

Fuck, I’ve missed holding her like this….

“I’m an idiot,” I whisper after roughly ten minutes of just holding her.

“No arguments here,” she replies, and I smile against her smooth, soft skin as I breathe her in. “It wasn’t your fault,” she sighs as she rests her head on my shoulder, putting her face into my neck. I kiss her forehead, gripping her hair in my hand.

“You wouldn’t have been pregnant if it wasn’t for me, Angel,” I whisper with heartbreak.

She huffs and pulls back, gripping my cheeks. Her eyes race between mine as she says, “It still wasn’t your fault, Travis. Accidents happen, and unfortunately, it did happen to us, and you need to stop punishing yourself, your son, and me for it. You wanted to work things out, to prove to me you’re not that stupid kid you were ten years ago, so prove it.” She gently pecks my lips and whispers, “I’m still here, Travis; I haven’t run off with our son, I’m here, so please don’t take it for granted again. Show me we can get through this together.”

My heart flutters at her words, and I rasp, “I love you, Heaven Turner, so fucking much….”

Her eyes tear up, and she admits, “And I love you, too.”

Fuck, there it is. My whole body relaxes, and I slam my lips against hers. I know she still doesn’t trust me, I know she doesn’t want anything to do with the club, and I know there’s a chance she’ll still leave me, but she loves me—admitting it out loud is the first step to moving forward.

I deepen the kiss, my tongue tangling with hers as our son shouts at the TV in the background, and I can’t help but smile into the kiss, finally feeling happy after so long.

I just hope I don’t fuck it up again….

23

Heaven

I gently tap my finger against the white Formica table at the Huntsman Grub while the prospect John, who I kissed, watches from the counter, and I wonder if I’m making a mistake.

Yesterday, after giving him the silent treatment for the past week, I told Travis I loved him, which I do. However, I still don’t trust him, and the thought of being on club grounds, being close toher, makes me sick to my stomach.

I want to run; I want to go grab my son from school and run.

I need some advice, someone who won’t automatically push me toward my husband, and someone to help me see reason. I need someone who isn’t a therapist, who can give it to me straight.

We can’t keep living in limbo.

He’s punishing himself over the baby while I’m just numb over everything that has happened. I spent ten years trying my hardest to move on from him, always failing, and now this is it, go full in with our marriage or walk away for good.

I look at my wedding ring, still not used to it, but also unable to remove it for a second time, which says a lot about my heart. I just need trust because without trust, there is no future between us.

The bell to the door chimes, and I look up and swallow hard, seeing my mother and mother-in-law walk in, talking. They are both dressed similarly, with jeans and a tee, while Tina has her property cut on.

They’re night and day, yet they get on really well.

My mom is hard-working and constantly puts men down, while Tina is soft and willingly lives with her husband’s actions, day in and day out.

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