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Fawn reaches out and places her hand on my arm. “I don’t know who hurt you, Robyn, but it’s okay to let people in and get close to you,” her voice is only a little bit above a whisper.
“I let people get close to me,” I defend even though I know I’m a big liar. The ladies give me a dubious look and I can only roll my eyes. “I like my life just how it is. I don’t want a man to roll in and mess everything up.”
“They might mess up your hair with some good lovin’,” Fern sasses with a wiggle of her eyebrows, “but that doesn’t mean they’ll mess everything up.”
I try, really fucking try, not to think about the implications of this older woman reminding me about sex hair and barely stop myself from shivering. Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be able to forget this conversation any time soon. It’s going to be one of those that replays in my head at the oddest moments.
“You need someone you can let get close to you,” Fawn tries again. “Even us, the people who you let in, it’s only as far as the surface. We don’t know much about you and it’s fine because you’re part of the Mistletoe Creek family no matter what.” I open my mouth to say something, anything, as tears sting the backs of my eyes. “You don’t have to tell us all your secrets or anything. That’s not what we’re saying Robyn.”
“We just want to see you happy,” Merry interjects.
“And we want another wedding,” Fern mumbles, but Merry elbows her and she lets out an oomph sound that has me almost laughing at the three of them.
Their friendship has jealousy peeking up inside of my soul. Not because they don’t deserve it, they absolutely do, but because it’s the kind of friendship I used to have. With Kyla. We were so different and yet we fit together perfectly.
It’s clearly the same thing for Fawn, Fern, and Merry.
“I am happy,” I insist and look around to try and find a means to escape this wild conversation.
Merry pats my hand and the look on her face is one only a Southern Grandma can perfect—pure condescension. They look at me like I’m missing out on something huge and even though I know it’s not true, they have me questioning everything I thought I knew.
“I’m going to take another walk through and then head home,” I try to make a smooth exit while giving the ladies a bright smile. “Happy holidays, ladies. It was wonderful to see you.”
“Just think about it,” Fern insists before I can slip away.
I do walk through the contest one more time, but I barely see the gingerbread houses or anyone else. Have I been wearing my pain on my sleeve all this time? Can people see how I’ve held myself apart and how lonely I’ve been?
My heart sinks at the thought that I’ve been so transparent. Yet, everyone accepted me and tried to make me feel welcome in Mistletoe Creek. That should make me feel better, but, somehow, it doesn’t.
I’m on autopilot as I get home and make myself dinner. Just for myself. Again.
I don’t think dinner for one has ever been more depressing.
Dread pools in my stomach and an ominous feeling wraps around my shoulders. I try and think about what is going to happen after the holidays are over, hoping planning will help me feel more settled. A plan is always a good thing, right?
When I’m tossing and turning in bed, unable to figure out the future while drowning in my past, I swear I hear the rumble of motorcycles. When I jump up and look out the window, the streets are clear without a headlight or taillight in sight. That feeling of dread doesn’t let up, though, and chases me into dreamland.
CHAPTER 4
FRIAR
I think this place might be too wholesome for me and my brothers. There’s a lot of Christmas going on and everyone smiles all the damn time. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I almost can’t believe that the hacker who has been stealing from the club is hiding out here.
It’s, honestly, the last place I would have ever looked for him.
After spending a night in the Charleston clubhouse, we headed out to Mistletoe Creek, but we didn’t just ride into town straight away. We took our time and explored the surrounding area, wanting to get a feel for it. You never know if someone is going to run when cornered and they’d know the area better than us.
When we finally rolled into Mistletoe Creek to explore, I was taken aback by the Southern hospitality. Everyone is so damn nice. It sets my teeth on edge and I’m not sure I trust it.
We’re staying a town over to not totally invade the town which seems to be the type of place where gossip spreads fast. We’ll already attract enough attention as it is.
“Fucking Thingamabobs,” Crucify mutters next to me as we head toward the diner. “Did you see the name for that fucking store? It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s whimsical,” I fire back at him with a smirk that has my brother glaring at me as if he could do what his name suggests right here on the street.
Thankfully he can’t, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try when we’re alone.
“It’s something,” he grumbles.
