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“You hurt my friend!” Beth shouted, picking up a coffee mug.
Standing up, I pointed my finger at her. “That’s my mug!”
Beth’s husband Mike stood in the corner, shaking his head as he tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile as my personal mug flew at my head, shattering into pieces. “No more coffee for you!”
Quickly exiting, I stood outside the best damn coffee shop in town, brushing the food remnants from my clothes.
Jesus fuck. What was with these women?
Laughter had me turning to find several of my club brothers enjoying my misery. Narrowing my eyes at them, I sneered. “What the fuck are you idiots laughing at?”
“Big bad King, dethroned by his little Queen,” Priest said as all my brothers laughed heartily. Flipping them off, I stormed across the street to Venom’s Ink to find her shop locked up tight.
I had enough of this shit.
I needed to find Bailey.
Running around the corner of the building, I took the back stairs two at a time to find her apartment empty.
Where the fuck was she? This was a small town. There weren’t a lot of places she could hide.
As I walked around the barren place, I took stock of what my woman had been living in. The place was a dump. The only thing worth any value was the bed I bought her. Looking around the large studio apartment, I looked at what the woman I claimed lived in and my heart broke. While I had a functioning home with all the amenities, my woman lived in squalor. She never complained. Not once. She had her shop and a place to rest her head, and she was happy.
Instead of spending her money, she gave most of it away to charities and the facility in Arizona where Jamison was, ensuring he had everything he needed. She even paid for his personal teacher, who I learned was also a bodyguard. There was nothing here that gave away who the real Avonleigh Rose Bailey was.
But I knew.
I knew the real woman.
The woman behind the mask, as my brother once said.
My woman had a heart that put mine to shame. Instead of living life in the fast lane, she worked to ensure her cousin had everything possible. She helped others with the same disability, only keeping enough so she could live. That’s why she never hired a contractor to fix up the apartment. It wasn’t that she didn’t make enough money, it was because she gave it all away. She was a good friend to those she claimed and never let her past define who she was. My woman held her head high, persevered through life’s hardships with grace and dignity.
And what did I do? I treated her worse than her family. Oh, we butted heads often, but instead of asking her what she thought, I assumed she needed time. I didn’t give her a chance to talk. Instead, I took her home and told her I would give her time. I should have known that a woman like Bailey didn’t need time. My woman knew her own mind. She knew what she wanted and instead of asking her I left her alone. I ghosted her, ignoring her texts and calls.
This was all my fault.
“King?”
Sitting on her bed, I hung my head and whispered, “I lost her.”
“What do you mean?”
“I fucked up. I told her everything about Havoc, my past, and how I was responsible for her troubles. I thought she needed time, so I stayed away.”
“King, you are not responsible for what others do. You know that more than any of us. The actions of others are theirs alone. You had nothing to do with Havoc’s decisions.”
“I know that, but I stupidly thought she would blame me. I thought she needed time to forgive me. What the fuck was I thinking?”
“You weren’t and now you made a bigger mess.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing Scribe. From what I know, women are funny about shit like that.”
“Bailey isn’t like other women King. You, of all people should know that.”
“Where the fuck is she?”
“You know Bailey better than anyone. She is your woman. Where would she go?”
