Lay It Down: Bastards MC Series Boxed Set (3 page)

My heart raced, and I felt the panic rise. I couldn’t go home. Will was at the house and the kids were gone. I’d call them as soon as I got back to the hotel. Just hearing their voices would make everything better. But it wouldn’t. Nothing was going to be okay again. We’d been through this before, and I’d told Will I could never do it again. I definitely couldn’t handle it a third time. I couldn’t trust him to not make the same mistake again. I didn’t know how to live without my family. No, I’d never have to live without my kids. It was Will… I didn’t know how to live without him.

Will and I had been together forever; at least it seemed that way. Seventeen was a lifetime ago for a thirty-three-year-old. As a senior in high school, I’d been searching for colleges close enough to the people I loved but far enough away that I could have the freedom I craved. Boston University was on the top of my list. The psychology program was decent, and I loved to be in the city.

After my acceptance letter came, my parents insisted we go for a weekend visit and take the whole bells-and-whistles guided tour so they could ask embarrassing questions about crime rates and the probability that I would be flashed. I hadn’t dressed up, instead wearing jeans, a golden-yellow T-shirt with a green-and-yellow plaid over it, and sneakers. My parents were furious, but I argued they didn’t understand late-90s fashion. They had seemed to buy my argument until another family arrived at the meeting point with a teenager dressed in a black skirt, light purple sweater set, pearls, and stylish flats. My parents had been debating whether we should leave so I didn’t embarrass them any further when our tour guides walked in.

William Walker, or Billy, as he liked people to call him, was adorable. Dressed in a red polo and khakis, he oozed charm out of every pore. His smile lit up his whole face, and my mother seemed as taken with him as I was. He was the perfect guide, giving my parents the attention they needed, not laughing at any of their silly questions, and showing us everything we could have wanted to see. At lunch, we discovered that he’d volunteered to take us around because he was from Maine too and missed home. He’d thrown me a wink when he reminisced about his own parents’ visit the year before. Later that afternoon, the other guide took the parents to talk to the financial aid office, and Will took little miss Sweater Set and me for a walk.

I loved his laugh. It was deep and made his Adam’s apple bob. Sweater Set asked a ton of questions and, for once, I was quiet, content just to watch him. His whole body changed when he talked about his life. The curly blond hair bounced on his forehead when he moved, reminding me of an excited little boy. He loved living in Boston but wanted to move home after getting his degree in economics. He spent every second he could outdoors, mostly on the Charles River as a member of the BU Crew. He wanted to hike the full Appalachian Trail after he was done with school. And he was single. He’d laughed when Sweater Set asked him that, telling us there was no time for girlfriends in rowing.

He asked us questions too, about our majors, what we planned to do after school, why we wanted to live in Boston. Sweater Set talked so much that I tuned her out and took in the sights and sounds around me. I couldn’t wait to move. The campus was beautiful and had a busy energetic current, as if something important was going on at all times. I was happy to let her talk because I was the girl with the lame answers. I’d picked psych because people fascinated me. I didn’t know what I was going to be when I grew up. I wanted to come here to get the hell away from my parents and be surrounded by culture. When she did stop talking and Will coaxed my answers out, she scoffed. Will smiled and told me it sounded as though I would be a good fit.

By the time we got back to our parents, Sweater Set was practically throwing herself at him and I was mildly disappointed to realize he seemed interested. I got it. She was cute and little and bubbly. I was the chubby girl, out of place in jeans and sneakers. When he said good-bye to my parents and turned to me, I was shocked that he asked for my phone number and email. He was coming home for summer vacation and wanted to know if we could get together because it would be nice for me to have some friends before school started.

He didn’t wait for summer but emailed me a week later. We talked all spring. He was brilliant and funny and saw the world completely differently than I did. He came to Maine for a few weekend trips, and by the time high school graduation came, he had me and everyone I knew wrapped around his finger.

We spent the summer falling in love and talking about our future. We had nothing in common except our feelings for the other. We laughed because we were different from all the other couples we knew. There was no drama or games, no major fights in front of an audience. There was no great love story where one of us broke the other’s heart; we were a team that agreed to face the world together and talk through every problem that could arise. We were the boring couple, and we were both okay with that.

When we left for school in the fall, everyone told me to not be upset if it didn’t work out, that summer relationships never last. He was “a handsome and popular upperclassman,” after all, and I was “the geeky freshman”—at least, those were my mom's words. Will was busy with school, work, and crew, and I was struggling to keep my head above water, but he called me every night before bed and woke me up every morning with a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. Every weekend he would sneak me into his dorm, and while our friends partied the days away, we’d spend every second we could wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about everything or nothing at all. Time flew.

There was never a question of if we would get married, just when we’d tie the knot. By the time Will was a senior, everyone assumed he’d ask me to be his wife. We had other plans though. Will would take an internship in Boston and get an apartment close to campus so I could stay with him as much as possible while finishing my degree. After I graduated, we were going to take six months off to hike the Appalachians then discover the continental states before settling back in Maine. Once we had our careers figured out, we’d talk about marriage.

May was rough for me that year. End-of-semester projects and prepping for finals were brutal, and I was so run down that I caught every bug going around. To top that off, Will and I were struggling. I’d missed all of Will’s races and couldn’t go to any of the senior functions he’d expected me to go to, and he was openly bitter about my absences. I was frustrated with him because he had changed from supportive boyfriend into party frat boy. I hated the change.

I spent the weekend before his graduation immersed in textbooks and writing papers; my parents and Will’s family were coming down at the end of the week, and I wanted to dedicate as much time to them as I could. I hadn’t seen Will all weekend, so when he knocked at my door early Sunday morning, I was surprised. That surprise grew to worry when I opened my door. There were giant black smudges under his pale gray eyes, he was sweating, and his skin was a light yellow. I’d never seen him look so unhealthy.

He grabbed me, pulled me into a hug, and told me how much he loved me. Then after shutting my door and sitting on my bed, he ran his hands through that beautiful curly blond hair and told me about his mistakes over the last few weeks. He’d been seeing someone else. When he’d woken that morning and seen her and not me, he’d run straight to me to beg my forgiveness. He vowed to spend the rest of his life making it up to me, if I could forgive him just that once. He’d gotten down on his hands and knees, showing me the most beautiful diamond ring. The princess-cut single-carat stone shone in the light. He’d gotten it months before and had been waiting for the right moment.

That was not the right moment. It took me a few minutes for his words to sink in. I sat on the floor because my legs couldn’t support me anymore, not even to walk to the chair. No, not Will. We didn’t do drama. We didn’t cheat. But Will had. How many times? I needed to know, but I was afraid to ask. He was talking to me, but I didn’t hear a word; instead, my mind replayed all of those times that I’d assumed were innocent when I saw another girl smile knowingly at him, or me. I was a fool. I told him to leave, but he’d sat next to me and hugged me, telling me over and over that he was sorry. I did what any young girl in love would do—I forgave him.

The memory made me sad. If only that girl hadn’t given in, hadn’t forgiven him, hadn’t built a life with him, I wouldn’t be where I was.

I needed to vent—to get everything I’d been holding in, out. But I couldn’t say the words yet because then it would be real. My marriage wasn’t over—we just needed to regroup and figure out how to move forward. Will needed some time to remember that he loved me, and I needed time to learn to forgive him. More important was that we needed time away from each other to remember how we felt about the other. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. We could save this. But did I really want to? The thought popped in, making me wonder.

I needed to cry. A full-blown pity party breakdown was due. There was nothing wrong with crying. It didn’t mean I’d given up. I needed sad music or a Hallmark movie and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. I’d exhaust myself with tears and start over in the morning. Feeling better and having a plan made pulling into the hotel alone much more bearable.

Not finding anything sappy enough on cable, I pulled out my laptop, changed into pjs, and ordered Thai from my favorite restaurant. I was twenty minutes into
The Notebook
when my phone rang. Pressing pause, I sat up and answered.

“What are you doing?”

I smiled. Normal people would say hi or ask how I was—not him. “I’m about to watch a movie. Thought I’d lay down and try to get rid of this headache.”

Matty had left the office a few hours before I did, but he knew I was getting a migraine.

“Oh.” He had a tone I couldn’t place. “You gonna watch it alone?”

Not sure why he was asking, I said I was.

“I just got home from grocery shopping.”

I wondered for a brief minute if all of our conversations were this weird or if it was because I was cranky.

“I ran into Billy and asked him if you were feeling any better.”

My heart sank.

“Imagine my surprise when he told me he didn’t know. Then imagine the look on his face when he realized I didn’t know why he wouldn’t know. Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?”

There wasn’t a good answer. I told Matty everything. But I hadn’t told him this because I didn’t want anyone to know. “I… um… I…” I didn’t know what to say. Nothing I could tell him would make him feel any better. Honesty was the best bet. “I don’t know. I guess…” There was a knock on my door. “Shit. Hold on a sec, okay?”

I headed for the door, grabbing my wallet off the little table by the entrance. Expecting to find the delivery boy, I came face-to-face with my best friend holding my bag of Thai. He smiled.

“What are you doing here?” I shook my head, as much to clear the confusion as in disbelief.

He moved past me into the room, put the bag on the coffee table, and turned to face me. “I brought food.”

I shut the door, leaned against it, and put my wallet and phone on the stand. “The food was on its way. Without you.”

“Yeah. But what fun is eating spicy Thai alone in a dark and quiet hotel room”—he turned back to the table and pulled out a takeout box—“when you could be sharing spicy Thai with your best friend?” After grabbing the fork out of the bag, he opened the box as he walked to the couch and sat down. “Come sit and eat with me.”

I didn’t move. The chicken pad Thai smelled heavenly, and my stomach growled in defiance. “How’d you know where I was?”

The brat took a big bite of noodles. “Billy.” He twirled his fork in the box, pulling out another heaping pile. “He was pretty shocked that I didn’t know where you were or what was going on. He wouldn’t tell me much.” He put the bite in and chewed. “But he did tell me you were here when I insisted I wanted to check on you.” He swallowed loudly. “I’m hungry enough to eat it all”—he held up the box—“but I’ll gladly share with you if you hurry.”

I glared at him. That was my Thai and this was my sulk night. I was going to eat junk food, not care if I got fat, and watch heartbreaking love stories until I cried myself to sleep. No part of that included the goofy buffoon sitting on
my
couch eating
my
noodles. “Why are you here?” My tone was terse.

“Because you need me.” He shrugged. “If someone”—he gave me a sharp look—“had let me do my job, I’d have been here earlier.”

“That makes no sense.” I was sure I hadn’t thrown a full-blown temper tantrum reminiscent of a two-year-old in almost thirty years, but I was pretty close to having one then.

He leaned forward and put the container on the coffee table before standing. He’d changed from his dress pants and shirt into a pair of jeans and a black Harley tee, one that showcased the glorious ink he he had covering both arms. I watched him walk toward me and realized that he was leaving. I moved away from the door, surprisingly sad at the idea of being alone.

He didn’t open the door. His hand grabbed my upper right arm and yanked me against him. My face was shoved into his chest, and I turned my head so I could breathe. Solid arms came around me, holding me tight. He was so warm. I didn’t try to resist; instead I melted into him, trying to warm the chill that went to my bones. His chin came down on my head, enveloping me, sheltering me from my reality. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been held, and the thought devastated me because Will used to hold me all the time. Before. No… before her. Before my world fell apart.