Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC #4)(2)

“You didn’t have to stay,” I said, pouring coffee and then retrieving another mug.

Aiden skirted around our shitty sofa and padded into our equally shitty kitchen. He took the mug I offered and lightly rested his free hand on my hip.

“Yes, I did, Lil,” he murmured looking at my eyes.

“You didn’t,” I protested. “I’m fine, I don’t want you risking your back muscles and having a horrible night’s sleep for me.”

The hand on my hip tightened and his attractive brows furrowed. “Your mom died, sweetie,” he said softly, as if to remind me. “I care about you. Therefore, I stayed. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone,” he told me firmly.

I looked into his clear blue eyes. We had been friends since my freshman year. A month ago it had turned into something else. In the midst of my nightmare, Aiden had somehow turned from friend to boyfriend. Not that the handful of dates and makeout sessions constituted an actual relationship, but my schedule didn’t exactly give me the luxury of time for a boyfriend. I spent every moment I could with Mom, until she demanded I go out and have some fun. As if fun was even a plausible prospect when my mom was dying in a hospital room. But I played along, let Aiden take me out, faked a smile while my insides were shredding. I’d never let anything go further, go deeper. My time and my heart were dedicated to Mom. Until now I guess. I had a huge gaping hole in my life, one I couldn’t even contemplate right now. One I knew Aiden wanted to fill. One that I knew he would never fill.

“Thanks,” I whispered, realizing arguing was pointless.

He was wrong, though. I was alone. Completely. My mom had been the one and only person on this earth who actually loved me. The me, the one that was plagued with anxiety, and felt like I had a dumbbell on my chest twenty-four hours a day. The me who barely spoke around new people, and got nervous in crowds. Everything that made me ordinary she found extraordinary, and subsequently she made me feel extraordinary. It was just me and her, against the world. Now it was just me. I had friends, good ones too, ones that I loved. But nothing like what I had with Mom. Even Bex, the best of them all, would never be what my mom was to me.

He nodded and kissed me lightly on the cheek before searching my eyes. He was waiting for me to break down, I knew. For days, he and Bex had been watching me like I was an unexploded grenade, ready to go off at any moment. He seemed to be satisfied I wasn’t in danger of exploding any time soon and moved to the breakfast bar, to perch on our rickety bar stalls.

I stared at him. Even after a no doubt terrible sleep on our lumpy sofa, he looked good. His sandy blond hair was mussed, but in a way that looked like he’d taken hours to do it. His face was classically handsome, and his body was lean. He looked like an all-American boy, Abercrombie and Fitch style. He was from a good family, was in law school and a genuinely nice guy. Too bad he didn’t make me burn. Didn’t consume my mind and soul. Like someone else had for the past three years. Someone that definitely wasn’t a genuinely nice guy. Someone who would never be mine.

Asher.

Time didn’t mute the memories I had of him. Of us. I indulged myself a moment of escape into that memory, one that offered a respite from the horror of the present.





Three Years Ago



I liked margaritas, I decided. No, I loved margaritas. The handicap that stopped me from unleashing my true self seemed to fall away with the help of this magic drink. I was uninhibited by the shyness that had plagued me my whole life. The weight on my chest.

I stumbled slightly but righted myself. I was at Gwen’s, my new boss’s place, dancing with people I barely knew. Beautiful women who had no qualms being themselves, and may have been slightly insane. I so wanted to be like them when I grew up. Well, firstly I wanted to be like my mom, with a sprinkling of these fab ladies. Mostly I wanted to be someone different than who I was. Someone better.

As I whirled to the music, my gaze landed on men rounding the corner of the house. Hot men. I narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t tear my eyes off them. I’d seen them around town and more recently at Gwen’s store. I knew who they were. Heck, everyone knew who they were. They were the Sons of Templar. The motorcycle club that had unofficially owned the town since before we moved here. Some around town hated them, and everything the club stood for. Most respected them. Like Mom.

“Those boys may be a bit rough around the edges, but they’ve got good hearts. People like to judge based on what they think a good person should look like. Good people come in all shapes and sizes, just like bad. Don’t you forget it,” she’d instructed me years ago. Her eyes had been faraway, no doubt thinking of the bad man that had been wrapped up in a suit and tie. Who’d seemed like a good man, a family man, until the doors to our home had closed and the monster inside had been unveiled. So she didn’t shrink away from men wearing leather. She didn’t shrink away from anyone, not anymore.

I had always been fascinated with the men. The life they lived. The freedom they seemed to have. I’d longed for that kind of freedom, to be who I was, to figure out who I was. I would never have that though, not with my emotional disability chaining me to my uninteresting self. I’d admired them from afar, entertained notions of going to one of their infamous parties. Those thoughts stayed rooted in fantasy, as did any possibility of interaction with the club. My social skills went from lacking to non-existent when faced with attractive men or intimidating people. The men in the club were the embodiment of both. Though not every single one was mouth-droppingly attractive, they all held an aura, a certain presence that seemed hypnotizing and dangerous at the same time. That was all admired from afar. I’d never seen them up close, definitely not in social situations. But now they were here. Getting closer to my uninteresting self with every moment.