Page 32 of Sinful Sugar


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I gaped at Art. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

Storm cut his eyes at me.

“We’re not on lockdown, are we?” My heart pounded so hard, I struggled to draw in a breath. What if everything was about to implode? If it got out in the club that Art and I had sex, I’d look like a cougar praying on a cub. But it hadn’t happened like that. Art had pursuedme,and he was no cub.

Storm held a strip of bacon in front of his mouth. “No, not officially, but—”

“Good. Then I’m going.” I went to the sink, turned on the hot water, and started doing dishes. If Art butted in, I’d lose my shit.

Storm sighed. “Dammit, Sugar. At least take a prospect with you.”

“I don’t need one.”

My nephew growled. “How in the hell did Uncle Matt deal with you?”

Tears blurred my vision as a sob lodged in my throat. I scrubbed the tray vigorously to fight through the sadness.

How could Storm go there? I was sure he didn’t mean anything by it, but still.

The sound of boots on the hardwood floors echoed in my ears. I sniffled and blinked to pull myself together, but I couldn’t.

“Honey, are you okay?” Tina whispered.

“No. I need a minute.” I turned the water off, grabbed a dish towel, and rushed out the back door before anyone else saw me.

I ran to my hiding place behind the Quonset, where the guys worked on their bikes and stored them over winter. It was my secret spot out of sight so no one would see me break down.

“Stop, stop, stop,” I cried into the dishrag, then gripped my neck with my free hand.

Birds shouldn’t chirp.

Butterflies shouldn’t flutter.

The sun shouldn’t be radiant and cheerful while a piece of my brittle heart broke off and turned to dust.

For years I’d held myself together for my sons and to keep Matt’s legacy from falling apart. Storm had done his best after the funeral, but part of him died that day too. He’d needed support, nurturing and I’d promised my husband I’d be there for our nephew.

But who had been there for me? Who had comforted me duringanotherdeath?

Tina had tried to be there for me, but she’d been busy cooking and taking care of the men. I’d been on my own, unable to curl into a ball and stay in my bed until I drew my last breath.

My sons had needed me. Storm and the club had needed me.

I’d had no choice but to persevere back then, as I needed to now. And I hated it more than ever before.

Everyone should be as miserable as me.

Nobody should be in love or have babies.

Nobody should smile and laugh.

Couldn’t we all just shut down and be sad together?

Please?

I tucked myself beside an overgrown lilac bush, pressed my back to the cool metal, and sobbed.

“Oh, God. How can I fall apart over the mention of my husband with the man I care about in the same room?” I turned into the bush, breathing in its fragrant scent. I could die from the all-consuming pain ravaging my insides.

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