Page 94 of Apex of the Curve

“I know, babe,” I said, gripping the phone tight, trying not to see red. I swallowed hard and said, “Maybe I can come by tonight.”

There was a long silence, a pregnant pause, and finally she said, “No, I think maybe I just need to be alone for a while.”

I didn’t like it, but this was a tough decision.

“You know, I talked to the club’s lawyers to see if I could get a rec for a good divorce attorney. I could maybe help you—”

“No,” she said and the finality in her tone both took me aback and honestly made me kind of proud.

“I’ll be okay. No matter what happens.”

“I know you will, baby,” I told her. “You’ve been handling your business just fine for a long time. I just hate to see you hurt,” I said. “I’d pretty much do anything to take that off your shoulders. You’re a good woman, and you don’t deserve the year you’ve had.”

Silence on the other end of the line and finally, “I’ve got to go.”

“Okay,” I said. “Maybe call me—”

The line went dead.

The fuck?

I scowled and put my phone away. Maybe she was just overwhelmed and needed a minute.

I went about my business, feeding the animals. The next day or two was going to be busy. It was finally cool enough for the slaughter which with just me and my dad, that meant a lot of work between the slaughter itself and the butchering.

I sent Aspen a text.

Me: I love you, woman.

I didn’t get anything back right away, which wasn’t completely unusual. Maybe she had her hands dirty, elbow deep in a mound of clay.

Still, something was niggling at me, doubts eroding my confidence that we were alright. I didn’t like it, but I’d had my interlude and I needed to put some work in before I could take another.

It took a lot of effort on my part to resist the urge to drop everything and ride out to see her and get some answers.

* * *

By Friday thingshad not improved with my woman. She was definitely dodging me, and I didn’t like it. I was sitting at the bar at the club nursing a beer and feeling sorry for myself with Mace when Dump Truck sidled in and dropped onto the stool on the other side of me.

“What’s his fuckin’ problem?” he asked Mace.

Mace had started working the farm with me and my pops. Offering his services in butchering for a steady paycheck until he managed to get on with a local meat packing plant, butcher shop, or grocery store. My dad and I kept the farm all legal and above board, so it hadn’t been much to hire Mace on and keep his parole officer happy.

“Aspen’s been dodging his texts and calls.”

“Oh, yeah? Why d’y’think?” DT asked frowning.

“Started right after Mace’s coming home party. I have to imagine it was partially Tic puttin’ ideas in her head that she’d never fit in here.”

“Well,” DT said in his infinite wisdom. “Maybe it’s time my girl cashed in on you, or did you forget you owed her, Marisol, and Dahlia that paint night thing.”

“Yeah, well, they better cash in,” I said. “Her ex might be forcing her to shut her business down.”

“The fuck?” Dump Truck scowled.

“Exactly. She might be forced to liquidate and give him half.”

Mace started laughing.

---