Page 69 of Second Chance

Damn it. I shouldn’t have mentioned LA.

“I guess I better not recommend the cheeseburger then.”

I smile back at her, the grin just as weak. “I think that’s what I’ll have.”

Hollilyn returns to take our order, and Mati’s eyes follow Hollilyn’s retreat, almost begging to go with her to the kitchen. The sensation to reach for her overwhelms me again.

“Mati?” I question, and she returns her attention to me. “Ever figure out what happened earlier today?”

“Surprisingly, Jordan is not answering my calls, but Jax gave me an earful.”

“I’m supposing that earful wasn’t pleasant.”

“He’s just…struggling, I guess. He was close with his father even though they were considerably opposite one another. Their relationship was kind of like you and Chris.” Mati’s eyes open wide in surprise at what she admitted. Clearing her throat, she continues. “I just mean, Jax always felt a little competitive with Jordan because Jax isn’t similar to Chris like Jordan is. The lawyer, the married man, the solid guy. Jax is more restless and a little reckless.”

“Is that how you remember me?” If she’s comparing me to her son, she must think these things of me.

“Not restless in a bad way, just always knew you needed to get out. I didn’t see rockstar coming, but then again, I guess we all had secrets.” Mati takes a sip of her water, and I wonder what secrets she keeps. “Anyway, as far as reckless, I don’t mean troublemaker, but Jax doesn’t think before he reacts. I need to apologize again for whatever he said to you earlier.”

I wave a hand at her. “He’s just protecting his mama.” The thought makes me smile. If Jax is like me, protecting my mother was what I did most of my young life.

“I think he’s taking it a little far, especially as I can protect myself.” Her voice quips tighter.

“Settle down, lion cat. No one doubts you. He’s just being a good son.” I turn toward the window a second and see three men pull into the lot on motorcycles. The first one, with his orange-tinted hair, has to be Crusty Rusty. The second is undeniably James Harrington looking harder than I remember with short gray hair and dark scruff. The last man I don’t recognize, but he looks equally silver and menacing like James.

“Who’s that?” I ask, interrupted by our conversation.

“That’s Justice. He’s the president of the Devil’s Edge riding club.”

“Is that James?” I turn back to Mati and see the pain in her eyes as she looks at her brother.

“Yeah.” She glances back to me. “He doesn’t associate with the family much.”

“Is he in a motorcycle club?”

“It’s a riding club, or so he says. One step up from casual cruising. One step down from hardcore clubs. I don’t understand it.”

She stares a minute longer before turning her attention back to me.

“Anyway, Jax is a good kid. Good man. Both my boys are.” She pauses, reading my face as I read the pride in hers. “Did you ever want kids?”

“Once. Kristy was pregnant when we married.”

Mati gasps. “I didn’t know.”

“We hadn’t been trying, and she lost the baby after we got married. I made sure we didn’t accidentally get pregnant again.” The words sound harsh coming out of my mouth, but I don’t mean them as rough as they sound. “Still. I think I would have liked children with the right woman.” My eyes shift to Mati and back to the paper placemat before me.

“You never married again?” She hesitates with the question and my lip curls at the corner.

“No, Mati. I didn’t marry again. I thought I was doing the right thing by marrying my pregnant girlfriend, but once we divorced, I realized I wasn’t the marrying type. I had the road and the band, and I couldn’t be tied down.”

Mati takes another sip of her water, and Hollilyn arrives with a Coke for Mati. The aversion of Mati’s eyes tells me I’ve said something wrong again.

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore,” she says when Hollilyn walks away. I smirk.

“I feel like you’re exactly the same, only prettier than I remember.” Her head shoots up, and instead of a sweet blush, confusion crosses her face, so I offer something else. My voice lowers as I speak, hoping to console her. “I’m no different than I was as a kid.”

“You’re nothing like that boy.” I want to ask what she means, but our food arrives—two plates of cheeseburgers and a heap of French fries. Mati digs in almost immediately, and I marvel at the difference in her compared to the women I know in California: the models fighting to stay thin, the girls trying to impress with how little they eat. Yep, Mati is exactly who I remember—herself.