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Kids. Her one regret.
“I’m sorry, Meg.”
Meg smiled and shook her head, still watching the boys. “I never wanted them. We had our thing, and it worked for us. But now?” Her breath hitched, and her eyes watered. “Kinda wish I had a part of him here with me.”
There it was.
****
Trax had never considered himself a pack rat. Until an hour ago. He dedicated the morning to clearing out one of the large closets in his garage for Cheyenne. He’d offered her the space two nights ago when he’d caught sight of her living room stockpiled with shit. Not shit, product. He smiled and lifted another box, moving it to the corner.
He had dropped by her place with take-out. He wasn’t spending the night. Cheyenne had to work, but if all he got was greasy cheeseburgers in her shack of an apartment, he was going to take it. He took every opportunity he could get, and there were few this past week. His schedule was hectic between work and club business.
When she answered the door, she was disheveled and anxious. One look in her apartment, and he knew why. The floor was covered with boxes.
“What the fuck? You moving?”
Cheyenne laughed and lifted onto her toes, kissing him. It was one of many things he’d become a sucker for. She always greeted him with a kiss.
“I wish.” She sighed and pushed a box away from the entrance. “The good news is, business is growing. The bad news?” She raised a brow. “My space isn’t.”
“Is this shit all sold?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Not shit. Product, Trax. And no, but we’ve been filling so many orders, it makes sense to stock up, so our delivery is quicker to the customers.”
He nodded, taking in the candle and scarf war zone.
“I got a big cedar closet in my garage. Give me a day or two, and I’ll clean it out.” He walked over to the kitchen counter and started taking the food out. She had been silent, which seemed odd for her. He glanced over his shoulder to find her staring at him in confusion.
“What?”
“Your closet?”
“Yeah, it’s fucking huge, and just storing shit I probably shoulda tossed years ago.” He scanned the room. “It’s big enough to house your shit.” He caught the severe arch in her brow and smirked. “Your product.”
The corners of her mouth curled, and she ambled over, tossing her arms around his neck and tugging him against her for a tight hug.
“You would do that for me?”
“I’d do a lot for you, Chey.”
It wasn’t a big deal to him, but she was extremely thankful. She had showed her appreciation the following hour in her bed.
He shook the memory from his head. Too much time spent thinking of Cheyenne, especially naked, and he’d get nothing done today. He had been working for an hour and still had a lot to get done. He pulled out a bike, due back to its owner by the end of the week, and started working.
“Hey there.”
Trax was bent behind the bike working on the engine when he heard her and glanced up from the bike. He smiled.
“Didn’t know you were stopping by.”
Meg shrugged and came into the garage, leaning against the frame. “Didn’t plan on it, but I was coming back from the cemetery.” She smiled softly and tilted her head. “Just thought I’d drop by and check on you.”
Trax snorted. “It should be me checking up on you.”
“You do. You all do.” She paused, losing a bit of light in her face. “Mick left me in good hands. Always knew if he went first, I’d be taken care of.”
Trax stood, taking in her somber stance. He saw the true magnitude of Meg’s loss. It was easy to feel sympathy and sorrow for her. For most people, they mourned Mick and then moved on. For Meg, it was a road she’d travel alone. All their plans that Mick had shared once or twice, traveling and vacations, wouldn’t happen.
