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“Here you go. I’ll be ready to leave when you are.” Hollywood set my drink in front of me.
“Thanks. Is it me, or does the vibe here feel gloomy and depressing?”
The blue-eyed, pretty boy surveyed the room. “It’s not just you. Shit got bad, y’know? Crazy how one event changes us all.”
I drank my whiskey and nodded. Of course, I knew what went down in Three Forks. Bone had been there during the aftermath. The Minnesota chapter had suffered a couple of brutal hits that altered the landscape of their club.
“It’s weird with them gone. I hadn’t realized how losing a few men would make this place feel empty.” Hollywood refilled my glass. “I miss the hell out of them.”
“It’s not like they’re dead. You’ll see them again.”
“I guess.” He wiped the counter, staring off into space. “I wouldn’t wish prison on anyone. I’m worried about—”
Storm nudged my shoulder. “Before you go raising hell, I need to tell you something. Come on.” He left the room, expecting me to follow no less.
“I’ll wait for you in the truck.” Hollywood threw the white dishrag under the counter and left.
Now, what did Storm want now?
4
Lady M
Nobody had the power to break a mother’s heart more than her child, but more so when said kid was a grown adult. They should be mature at the age of thirty-two. When they were young, I could extend grace and explain how words and dirty looks hurt a person’s feelings. I had made each incident into a teachable moment.
Where had I gone wrong?
I thought I’d done right by my babies. Thought they knew how much I loved them. Thought I’d been enough… for one of them.
I blinked away the tears pooling in my eyes, nodding my head and pressing my hand against my heart as if I understood. But I didn’t believe a word coming out of Micah’s mouth. Fortunately, he couldn’t see the agony on my face through the telephone.
“There’s too much to do here. I’ll try to make it out for Christmas, but no promises.” His voice faded there at the end. I could tell guilt ate at him. It tormented his soul, knowing he hurt me. Yet the remorse wasn’t strong enough to make his wrongs right. He’d battled right and wrong since middle school and inflicted his frustrations and despair on others. Usually his brothers.
For years I blamed myself and replayed my actions in my head. Could I have done things differently? Sure. Maybe. Hell no. I wouldn’t do a damn thing differently. Well, I might do one thing differently. But I’d never be sorry.
Either way, my actions cost me big. They cost me my son.
Resentment had grabbed ahold of Micah, feeding on his young flesh. As he got older, it grew and turned into hatred. Retribution festered in him, and my boy held on to it with a death grip to disguise his pain.
As I’d told all my kids, forgiveness and accepting one’s circumstances were far better than stewing over things we couldn’t change.
Honestly, I knew betrayal intimately. I also held onto rage and resentment. I nearly lost everything until I accepted the hand life had dealt me. Once I let go of the past, joy returned in my life.
And what about forgiveness?
I’d never forgive or forget, but I had learned to keep moving forward and cherished my family.
I knew how Micah’s mind worked. Saw through his iron shield, no matter how hard he tried to hide behind it. I felt my boy’s pain as though it were my own, because dammit, it had been.
“We’ll miss you, son. I’ll miss seeing your handsome face at my dining table.” I swallowed thickly to push the sob in my throat down. “What will you eat?”
“I’m a grown man, Margaret. I’ll figure it out,” he snapped. His words were like a knife to the heart.
A whimper broke free. I quickly covered my mouth before I lost it. How could he treat me this way and on Thanksgiving, no less?
“Shit,” he muttered. “I… I didn’t—”
“I need to go, honey. Lots to prepare for our holiday dinner. I love you, Micah. Your presence will be missed so much, baby.”
