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“I never said you couldn’t talk about her.”
“No? You shut me down every time I mention her.”
“I don’t want to discuss her.”
“Why? Because it hurts? Well it hurts not to talk about her as well. Not speaking about your shit doesn’t make it go away, Jake. It festers and swells until it bursts. It becomes a cancer in your soul.”
“Since when did you get so poetic, Dr. Phil?” Jake asked sarcastically.
“I don’t know, losing my baby sister might have had something to do with it. Watching her husband spiral further and further into a weird kind of depression might also be a part of it.”
“I am not depressed.”
“No? Then what do you call it?”
“I call it not wanting to dwell in the past.”
Saxon snorted, but there was a look in his eyes Jake didn’t like. A look he’d seen too often after Rebecca’s death. Pity.
His hands had clenched into fists before he realized what he was doing, and forced himself to relax, letting out a deep breath.
“Hard not to dwell on the past when that’s all you think about. When it’s where you’re still living.”
“I am not living in the past.”
If he were, Rebecca would still be alive. How often had he wished he could go back and change things? He would have been there for her. He would have been the one driving the car instead of her. He would have ensured she’d been taking care of herself so she wouldn’t have been so tired she missed that stop sign.
He flinched at the memory, shutting it down. He didn’t know what Saxon was going on about. He didn’t live in the past. He did all he could to forget it.
“I’m tired of pretending my sister didn’t exist, Jake. I’m also tired of watching the man I consider my brother waste his life. Do you think this is what she would’ve wanted for you? I know it isn’t; she’d want you to live for her and to find happiness.”
Jake gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you really trying to tell me I should move on? Find someone else? She was your sister!”
“Yes, and I loved her. I miss her. Every day. But I also know she was the most generous, kind-hearted, loving person on this earth, and this isn’t what she’d want for you. You need to live your life, Jake. For her if not for you. She lost her chance to live. You didn’t. Don’t fucking waste it, all right?”
“And what about you?” Jake challenged. “When are you going to find a nice girl and settle down?”
Saxon’s eyes widened, then he threw back his head and laughed. Around him people stilled, watching. It wasn’t often that anyone saw the club owner laugh. Especially not like this. Once he was just chuckling quietly, everyone starting to turn away.
“Jesus, Jake. What about my life tells you that I’d want a nice girl? Fuck, I’d chew a nice girl up and spit her out. Just because I’m not getting married and settling down to have two point four children doesn’t mean I’m not living.”
“But for me it does?”
“Yeah.” Saxon sobered then slapped him on the shoulder. “Because you were made for that life, Jake. You’re supposed to have the wife, the kids, and the yard filled with way too many bikes. I’m the debauched uncle who gets them high on sugar, buys them way too many noisy, annoying toys, and tells them horror stories before bed.”
He stood. “You get the sweet family with the white picket fence and yappy dog. I get whips, blindfolds, and naughty submissives. Sounds about right, doesn’t it?”
1
“On the highway to hell!” Molly sang at the top of her lungs. Hmm, she hoped the song wasn’t a prelude to what was coming, but it seemed an appropriate road trip song considering the huge thunderstorm headed her way.
Ominous, dark clouds gathered on the horizon, like depressed cotton candy. She grinned at the thought. She quickly switched the radio over to another station where Sir Mix-a-Lot sang about his like of big butts. She’d yet to actually meet a man who liked big butts in real life, though. Her curves were something she’d detested in her twenties, now that she was in her thirties she was coming to accept them—sort of. Maybe by her forties she might be able to embrace them.
Not that I’ll live long enough to find out.
She sobered at the thought. She sighed, the noise drowned out by a rolling clap of thunder. Probably should have checked the weather report this morning. She glanced at her GPS, only another twenty miles to go. She might even make it before the rain hit.
Big splotches hit the windshield, triggering the car’s automatic wipers. Hmm, so much for that wish. No one was expecting her until tomorrow, but she’d been impatient to get to Haven, so she figured she’d stay tonight in a motel then head out to the Ferguson ranch tomorrow. When Savannah and her men had learned she was coming to Haven, they’d immediately invited her to stay with them. She hadn’t wanted to impose, but they’d told her she was family now, which, apparently, meant she couldn’t stay at a motel. She liked the idea of being part of their inner circle, it wasn’t like she had any blood relatives left.
