A Lighter Shade of Blue (Kings of Chaos 2)

“We’ll see you then.” He hangs up.

The sudden silence in my ear is suddenly deafening. My stomach rolls. Who did we lose this time? I close my eyes. After shoving my phone back into my pocket I step inside, semi-shell-shocked. “I-I have to go, something happened and I need to be with my family.”

“Of course you do,” he growls.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this!” I snap, furious.

“I know, I know. Just…just think about it,” he says. He holds his hands together as if he’s praying.

“I don’t think I should. We’re not right for one another, Jamie.”

“We could be if you’d allow it,” he says. His words have bite to them.

I cringe. The outburst isn’t like him. He’s pissed.

He takes a deep breath. “Do me this one favor, take some time, and weigh it out, Bluebell. We get along. We have a good time, and I know we’d make excellent parents. I could provide for any children we’d have and you if you wanted to stay at home.”

The bastard went for the jugular. I’ve always loved kids. I grew up taking care of them. It’s second-nature, and the main reason I took up Child Education in college. What if he’s my only chance at a regular family? Am I willing to give that up? There’d be no runs to keep Jamie away for weeks at a time, no King chasers to worry about, and no raids by the cops on our home. Doubt makes me hesitate. Do I need passion to be happy? “I—”

“No, go take care of your family. When you have an answer you’re one-hundred percent sure of, come back to me.” He pauses and pulls out a black velvet box. “I want you to wear this.”

“I-I don’t deserve this, Jamie,” I say, mentally begging him to stop.

“You do, and that’s what kills me. You can’t see it.” He shakes his head and pops open the case. Nestled on a bed of silk is a princess cut diamond that I know costs a pretty penny. He grabs my shaking hand, and slides the ring home. He kisses my cheek sweetly and places a hand on the small of my back. “Go. I’ll see you out.”

I walk to the door feeling like I’m wearing cement shoes. No matter how hard I try to pave my own path outside of KOC, I’m constantly caught in the middle. In the end, for me, all roads lead back to Kings of Chaos. They’ve shaped me more than I want to admit. I’m numb as I pull away from the driveway wondering what the hell lies in front of me and what I’m leaving behind. My mind is a tangled mess of briar patches. I’ve grown dependent on Jamie for more things than I should. He’s my symbol of normalcy in a world that’s anything but ordinary. My peace in the midst of a storm. Maybe that’s love. I’ve never seen a healthy example of it. Perhaps that’s why it feels foreign? Time is the ultimate decider. One way or another, I’ll uncover my truth. I put my foot on the gas and flirt with the speed limit as I travel across town.

I pull up in front of a two-story stucco house with a magnificent yard. It’s not what people think of when they imagine the home of someone in a motorcycle club. With its well-maintained yard, porch swing, and flowerbeds, it screams upper middle class. I throw my car into park and clamber out. My adrenaline is running high, and I’m still tailspinning from Jamie’s bombshell. My hands shake as I unlock the door and step inside. “Hello?”

“In the kitchen, Blue,” my dad calls out.

I lock the door behind me and jog down the hall into the kitchen.

He’s sitting next to my mother at the massive island she finally got him to install when I was ten. The years have been kind to my parents, considering their harsh lifestyle. Pop’s hair is still more pepper than salt, and slicked back from his face. The lines around his eyes and mouth are deep, due to sun exposure and long hours on the road. At six foot two, he still seems larger than life to me.

His mouth is set in a scowl, and his hazel-colored eyes are full of sadness.

“Pops?”

My mother reaches over and grabs his hand, giving it a squeeze.

My legs shake and I grip the counter to remain upright.

Her heart-shaped face is puffy, and her brown eyes are red. “It’s Cal.”

I hold my breath. Is this the moment I’ve feared since she hit sixteen? “She’s dead, isn’t she?” I whisper.

My mother wails.

“What? Fuck no, Bluebell! Why the hell would you say that?” he barks.

“Because she’s been out of control since she hit sixteen, Pops! Can we not ignore the elephant in the room for once?” I say, furious that they always take up for her no matter what she does.

“You best watch your mouth, little girl.” My father’s voice rumbles in his chest and his eyes narrow.

Now I know I’ve pushed him into the pissed off zone. I sigh. “What did she do this time? Why did I have to rush over here? Do I need to bail her out again? Or maybe it’s watching my nephew? No, no let me guess,” I hold up one hand, palm out, “you need me to go collect her drunk ass from another bar.”

“You hate her so much?” my mom asks between sobs, all quivering lips, and tear-filled eyes.