Page 32 of The Bonds We Break
As I look at the pool table in the middle of the bar, I’m reminded of Iris’s words when she lay on it after being shot.
It’s always the women who get hurt.
I put a bullet in Skylar myself. Would I do the same to Rae?
I shut down the answer forming in my head that says I wouldn’t.
The scent of cooking bacon and sausages filters through the building.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Tessa says when I enter the kitchen.
“What are you doing here, Tess? You’ve got enough going on with Track’s arrest.”
Tessa shrugs, her big gold earrings swinging as she does so. She’s the same age as Mom would have been had she not been murdered. And I guess in some way, Tessa has become a surrogate mom to me. “You had guests from another club. Old ladies always make breakfast. Don’t worry. I didn’t stay over with Track. Just arrived about forty minutes ago.”
“Solid gold, Tess. Solid fucking gold.” I drop a kiss on her head as I walk by and get a mug. I pour some coffee from the pot she already got started.
“Want a plate?”
“Please.”
I sip the coffee as she grabs some eggs, sausage, bacon, hash browns, and toast. “This looks so good,” I say as she places the plate in front of me.
She ruffles my hair like I’m not a nearly-thirty-year-old grown man. “Yell if you want more.”
I shovel the food down, ignoring the drum beat in my skull. In between bites, I watch Tessa. She’s loyal. A true old lady. And she’s here this morning helping the club, even though Saint gave the ATF the information they used to arrest her husband.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get proper retribution for you and Track,” I say, breaking my own rule about telling old ladies anything about what happens in the club.
Tessa stops wiping down the counter. “I wondered which way you voted. You and Saint always seemed so close.”
Her back is to me. “I voted with Track. With you. Always.”
She turns around, teary-eyed. “You better get him the best lawyer the club can afford. I don’t want to be without him, even if it’s only a couple of years.”
“We will. I promise.”
She comes to me and squeezes my wrist. “Thanks, Uther. I know you don’t like to talk club business with any of the old ladies, but how are you doing? Must have hurt to find out Saint was ATF.”
Grinding my molars, I try to think of an answer. “Yeah. It hurt.”
She doesn’t say anything for a good while, and I finally look up to see her gaze fixed on me. “You’ve had a lot of people let you down. Don’t let it make you hard.”
I huff a fake laugh. “I’m doing fine, Tess.”
“Yeah, well. On the day you realize you’re not, you come talk to me.”
We both know she’s right. But she doesn’t force me to admit it. “I don’t know why you’re up, Uther. But you should probably go sleep off the rest of your hangover. And I should go take my man his breakfast. Not sure how many more chances I have to do that for him if he goes inside.”
I return to my room. Because one look at the tears clinging to Tessa’s overly mascaraed lashes pours fuel on my anger. Why am I planning on driving all the way up to the cottage, in snow, hungover as fuck, for a woman I hate?
You hate her brother.
“Fuck.” I punch the drywall, leaving a fist-sized hole in it.
I grab my keys and head out to my bike. Even with the winter tires I had put on last week, I take it slow and steady to my house, where I switch out the bike for the truck and grab a change of clothes and an overnight bag. The drive gives me time to build a plan.
I’ll grab groceries on the way so I have something to eat up there. She’ll benefit by being able to eat it too. Then I’ll stop at the place I usually buy wood if I don’t have the time to chop it myself.
