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I can tell these women are not planning to take no for an answer. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”
I learn that Bailey is an elementary school teacher with an eleven-year-old daughter named Addi, and that Bethany works in the main office of the same elementary school. Her daughter Paisley is Addi’s best friend. Bethany also has a five-month-old son with her husband, whose road name is Yoda. It makes me want to laugh that she calls him that, too. I can’t help but picture a guy in biker leathers and Yoda’s head.
Finally, Laney tells me she’s a social worker at the local hospital. She and her husband Rourke don’t have kids, and she’s not sure whether they will. “We’re taking our time. I don’t know. We might adopt, or foster or something.” She shrugs. “Time will tell.”
“Okay, so.” Tori slaps her hands on her thighs. “Now, you go. Tell us about you and Rogue.”
I do my best to give them the basics of how we met, and how we got married just out of high school. When it comes to why we broke up, though, I try to keep it vague, just saying we had a falling out and never really reconciled.
But as I try to keep myself from thinking about the real reasons, the memory of my unexpected encounter with Thorpe Summers earlier today comes roaring back with the force of a thunderbolt. I see his sharp gaze and taunting smile in my mind’s eye. I start to feel a little dizzy, and shake my head to clear it before the irrational fear overtakes me.
It was years ago. It’s long past over. He can’t hurt you anymore.
I manage to finish telling my abbreviated version of the story. How I left town and just now have come back for the first time in years. “So, that’s why we never got divorce, I guess,” I finish. “I wasn’t around, and we weren’t talking to each other when I left, so we weren’t in contact.” Unexpectedly, my heart drops a little when I say the next part. “I suppose that since I’m in town now, I should probably get it taken care of while I’m here.”
“Psh.” Laney scowls. “Don’t go jumping the gun on that.”
I have to laugh. “I don’t think thirteen years is exactly jumping the gun.”
“No, I mean you need to give it time. The two of you haven’t seen each other in so long. Give yourselves a chance to get to know each other again.”
“That’s hardly likely,” I point out. “It’s not like we’re going to be hanging out with each other.”
Suddenly, Tori’s face lights up. “I’ve got it!” She looks around the table with a broad grin. “Rory’s coming to the pig roast.”
“What pig roast?” I frown.
“The club is having a big one. In a few days.” She points to me. “You’re coming.”
“I… I mean, is that a good idea? I haven’t been invited…”
“I’m inviting you. More importantly,Edenis inviting you.” She glances over at the woman. “Eden is the queen of the MC. The prez’s wife. So, her invite is gold.”
Eden nods soberly. “It’s true. I’m very important, you know.” Then she burst into a bubbly laugh. “But seriously, you should definitely come. There are going to be a lot of people there. It’s our club, hosting another club from West Virginia. A good will gesture. It’ll be easy to get lost in the crowd if you want to.”
“This seems like a very bad idea,” I mutter.
“Nah. It’ll be fun!” Tori says cheerfully. “Besides, we’ll all be there. We’ll protect you. Strength in numbers, right?”
“And the men cook meat to die for. As my daughter would say, ‘The food is gon’ be lit, fam!’” Bailey smirks.
“Your daughter would not say that,” Bethany protests. “But it is gonna be pretty lit.”
And that’s how I end up agreeing to go to a pig roast, with dozens of big, bad motorcycle men I don’t know. And my estranged husband.
16
ROGUE
“Holy shit,” Mal hoots. “Look at this spread!”
It’s the day of the pig roast with the Wretched Souls MC. And our club has splashed the fuck out. Rourke and Axel got in touch with Red Andrews, a local butcher from Youngsville, the next town over. We run protection for him, so he was more than willing to cut us a deal on the pig and some other meat to grill.
“You think this’ll be enough to feed us all?” Matthias jokes, nodding toward the giant animal rotating on the spit at the edge of the compound.
“Damn well better be,” Axel growls. “This shit is costing the club a fortune.”
“Worth it,” Rourke replies, lifting up his half-drunk bottle of beer. “Even if we don’t eat it all, we’ll have leftovers. Nothing better than roast pig leftovers.”
