I’ll never be able to forgive him.
Chapter 22
Trigger – Eight Weeks Later
I lean against the archway between the living area and the kitchen as Cole plays video games and I watch as my wife, my beautiful, amazing wife, preps dinner for our son, not once looking my way, breaking my fucking heart.
Eight weeks, and nothing from her.
After Hazel’s outburst, the same Hazel who is still on grunt work and won’t come off it until my wife steps foot back inside that clubhouse, Ashley has closed off, and whatever progress we made, it's vanished.
She won’t talk to me unless it’s about Cole or the baby, she won’t let me touch her, and she’s even gone to the lengths of locking the bedroom door to try and keep me out, though that never works.
She’s not aware, but I have the spare key, and I hold her every night before waking up and leaving before her alarm goes off for work.
I sigh quietly, my eyes taking in her sexy as fuck figure, my dick twitching, wanting her tight heat again.
She stopped communicating with the brothers.
The shit Hazel spewed after Ash finally walked back into that common room caused her to stay away from all of us. I’m at a loss as to what to do. She’s still doing therapy, but refuses to do couples therapy, she refuses to try again.
She’s pulled away from me and I’m ready to handcuff her to the bed.
I push off the wall and walk over to her. Despite knowing it won’t be accepted, I come up behind her and gently wrap my arms around her waist, my right hand going to her thirty-week bump, our son instantly moving beneath my touch, and she tenses, her hands stopping what she’s doing.
“How’s he doing?” I whisper against her ear.
She’s tried to leave nine times in the past eight weeks, nine fucking times.
Each time the brothers have stopped her, pleading with her to stay, and each time she has listened, and that is only because Cole was brought into it, which only pushed her further away from the brothers, from me.
Hazel is lucky to still be breathing.
“Fine,” she mutters, and I sigh as I drop my lips to her shoulder.
“Pixie, please,” I choke quietly, not wanting our son to see yet another tense interaction between his parents, “I feel like I’m fucking dying here. For eight weeks, you have barely looked at me…”
She stops chopping and just when I think she’s going to talk to me, she instead moves out of my hold and murmurs, “I forgotan ingredient at the store,” and I swear to fuck I could fall to the floor.
“I can go…” I say, following her, but she shakes her head and mutters, “No, it’s fine, you have church,” as she walks out the door, and I stand frozen, feeling lost.
As soon as I hear her car pull away, I drop my head and shake it before looking at Cole to see his attention on the front door with worry, and I fucking hate this.
He shouldn’t have to worry about his parents at eleven and yet here we are all because of my fuck up.
“Come on, bud, you can play with Caleb while I’m in church, by the time we get home, Mama will have finished cooking dinner,” I murmur and he nods, not taking his eyes off the front door, and is weary. I hate myself even more, and I’m pretty sure the only reason why I haven’t put my gun back inside my mouth is because they’re still under our roof.
“I want to go on the next few runs,” Tank demands before Anchor can open his mouth, and I look at him in shock.
We haven’t even been in church for five minutes, fuck, Doc has only just banged the gavel and asked Anchor to talk about the next run with the Devil’s this time.
We run drugs and ammo between the Untamed, the Devils, and the Huntsmen MCs, collecting them from the Cartel or sometimes even delivering some to the Cartel from the Untamed when they’re on a shortage from their suppliers.
The setup is fucking good and brings in a shit ton of money. However, deliveries can be sketchy if we get pulled over, especially since we usually have two vans while the other groups only have one, as we serve as the primary liaison between all the MCs we’re affiliated with and the deliverer.
“I thought you were helping the Cannibals with their little problem?” Stone asks with confusion.
And by little problem he means someone from their group who was helping Senator Smith attack women for the Pillars.
