Page 12 of Hades

Simon’s club. I could call on any of the wives that were my friends—Keely, Lila, Lena, Bobbie.

I was trying to untangle myself from club life though. Not entrench myself in it even deeper.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, sweetheart,” Simon protested. “I never said I couldn’t take the kids.”

A roar of applause and howling cheers echoed in the background on the other end of the line. On weekends, The Reckless Order clubhouse tended to be packed with wild, raucous bikers, and I steered clear of it.

But this was too loud to be indoors. Revving engines, piercing whistles, and the bellowing frenzy of a crowd.

“Where are you anyway?” I demanded.

“Don’t worry about it,” Simon replied. Which was code for: it’s club business, so don’t ask me questions, because I can’t tell you anyway.

“It sounds like you’re busy,” I pointed out.

“Not too busy for you and the kids.”

A lump formed in my throat and I lowered my spoon, half-heartedly jabbing at the bowl of batter.

Most of the time, I didn’t doubt my decision to get a divorce. Being married to Simon was…a challenge, to say the least.

When Mia was barely a year old, Simon got tangled up in club business that turned violent. I never got a clear picture of what actually happened. Everyone was so tight lipped about it, because I was his wife, and the mother of his baby girl. I had to be kept in the dark for my own safety.

The only thing I knew for sure was that Simon took a bullet to the chest and he landed in the hospital for four months. Fighting to breathe. Fighting to keep his heart going.

It scared the shit out of me.

With a baby in my arms, and my husband in the ICU, this was not how I pictured my marriage would go.

I begged Simon to be more careful, but that damn club was his family, too. He couldn’t leave his brothers high and dry when they needed him.

And I couldn’t keep holding my breath, waiting for the news that my husband had left me a widow. So I wanted to separate.

Then there were times like this—Simon was willing to drop everything when I called him, and it made me wonder if the divorce was a mistake. Marrying an outlaw biker was always going to be a bumpy ride, and I should have known that when I said I do. But Simon never complained that we were asking too much of him. He worked his fingers to the bone to show just how much he loved me and the kids, every single day.

Ten minutes later, Simon came striding through my door as promised. He looked sinfully good in snug black jeans that hugged his muscled thighs. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his tanned and tattooed forearms.

Damn him for aging like fine wine. At forty-two, he looked even better than he did when we first met over a decade ago.

“Who wants to see a movie with me?” Simon said.

Mia and Casey cheered and swarmed him with big hugs.

“Can we get popcorn?” Mia asked.

“Can we have ice-cream for dinner again too?” Casey added.

I raised my eyebrows and wiped my floury hands on my apron.

“Ice-cream for dinner? Again? How often does that happen?”

Simon clamped a hand over Casey’s mouth.

“He’s joking. Kids will say anything. You know that. It’s a strict diet of peas and carrots where I’m concerned.”

I narrowed my eyes and propped my hands on my hips.

“So now you’re teaching the kids to lie to me. That’s even worse.”