Outside the Lines (Sons of Templar MC #2.5)(25)

“Always helped mom,” a quiet voice declared.

I jumped, which wasn’t the best idea for my delicate head. Hansen sat in the corner, on an old armchair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“What?” I croaked, confused, and slightly hurt at the empty look in his eyes.

He nodded to the glass. “Two aspirin and water… helped her shake off the worst of it. Usually, so she could stomach her morning drink,” he clarified. “Learned that at ten years old, to put those there,” he continued. “That was, of course, after I dragged her to bed.”

His heartbreaking words began to sink in. “Your mom was—”

“An alcoholic,” he finished bitterly. “Yep. Most of my memories of her were when she had a drink in her hand, or when she was passed out clutching the bottle,” he explained without emotion.

It all sunk in. Hansen was always at the bar, or sitting at the club. He watched, joked with his brothers, stared at me, but he never drank. Might have a beer every now and then, but never more than two.

“Hansen—” I tried to speak, sitting up.

“Died when I was seventeen,” he cut me off again. “Plowed her car into a power pole. Lucky it was only herself she killed, not some innocent family. Lucky I turned eighteen the next day, so I didn’t end up in the system. So I could enlist,” he carried on.

My heart hurt, no bled with his words.

“Don’t begrudge you, you want to let loose… have beers… have fun,” he continued. “But when you decide to take off with no word, have me picturing your lifeless body in a ditch somewhere, only to find you sprawled at some McMansion in a getup that barely covers your *? That shit is not f*cking okay,” he said quietly. Just because he didn’t yell didn’t mean I didn’t feel the depth of his anger.

I pushed off the bed shakily and made my way over to him. His jaw was hard as he watched me approach.

“I can explain,” I cooed, standing in front of him, not sure if I should touch.

“Yeah, so could she. Don’t have time to listen to excuses now, babe. Should’ve been at the club an hour ago. Been waiting for you to wake up. Make sure you were okay with my own two eyes,” he said coldly, standing up.

We stood close, but not touching. My eyes prickled because our proximity didn’t change the fact I felt miles away from him.

“Now I’ve seen that I’ve got to roll. We’ll talk, figure this shit out. Maybe when I’m a little less f*ckin’ furious.” He touched my cheek briefly, but didn’t say a word and then turned to leave.

I watched woodenly as he disappeared down the corner of the hallway. I then crawled back into his bed and stared at the ceiling. His indifference, his anger, was well founded. But, I also didn’t know that shit about his mom. If I did, I would’ve done things differently. He also was supposed to know me, know that I didn’t do shit like yesterday on a whim. He should know that I wouldn’t leave like I did without a reason. He couldn’t see past his anger, couldn’t even give me the time to explain. Not when club business was waiting.

I rolled over and groaned when I realized the day. Saturday. Visit with the she-devil day. And I had to do it hungover. The universe freaking loved me. Little did I know the universe had far from finished with me.





I have no idea how I did it. Survived an hour feeling like death warmed up and nursing a snit with my boyfriend. And battling the debilitating fury that had settled at the base of my stomach knowing he was out there. Free to live his life. Finished the measly sentence, while I would never escape my lifetime sentence. But I did. I let the insults about my hair, my job, the fact I looked like a drug addict today, I let all of it slide over me.

But when I got out, I struggled to get it under control. Get myself breathing right.

“Macy?” a concerned voice asked from beside me.

I glanced to see Robert push off from the wall he was leaning on to approach me, his worried eyes taking me in.

I sucked in a breath and straightened.

“You okay?” he asked, lightly touching my arm.

“Yeah,” I said weakly, not sounding at all convincing. I felt like I was about to implode.

He frowned at me. “The fact you’re a disturbing shade of green begs to differ. That place making you physically sick now?”

I laughed. “No, it just so happens that place seems to magnify an already horrific hangover,” I informed him.

He gave a knowing grimace. “Yeah, I can imagine that does not do wonders for any kind of ailment… hangovers even more so…” He paused. “Want me to take you for a coffee? Maybe some greasy food?”

I considered it. Yeah, I knew this guy alluded to wanting more, but his suggestion seemed platonic, friendly. He was nice, understood the shit that I was going through. Well, maybe not everything, but stuff pertaining to my grandma and that place. I suspected, with the pain in his eyes that he needed someone to talk to as well. Also, facing a male who wasn’t completely and utterly furious with my hungover self-factored in there too.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I agreed finally.

He grinned and his hand went lightly to my lower back. “How about we take my car? I’m worried about the chances of your being able to operate a motor vehicle right now,” he joked.

I let him lead me into the parking lot. “Yeah, I might have to agree with you there.”