Battles of the Broken (Sons of Templar MC 6)

I smiled wider, despite the way her words hit my exposed nerves. The way she spoke, a thousand miles a minute, was comforting. Calming somehow. There were people you just immediately clicked with. It had happened with me less than a handful of times, because I didn’t let myself click with people.

Clicking meant caring.

Caring meant danger.

Because when you cared about a person, even a little bit, you gave them that little bit of yourself to hold onto, keep safe. And no matter how long it took, that little piece would eventually be destroyed. By that person themselves, or the world in general.

“You can tell me all about it at the coffee shop,” she decided, closing my cupboards and snatching her purse off my countertop. “Because you might be some kind of human-demon hybrid, but we’ll talk about that over my java, because I, sadly, am not.”

She linked her arm in mine, directing us both down the stairs and outside before I knew what was happening.

“I don’t have my purse, or my keys,” I said as she dragged me along. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

“Oh, honey, you don’t need your purse. It’s only polite of me to buy you your unicorn tears or whatever it is you consume instead of coffee to make you this hawt at eight in the morning,” she replied, her heels clicking along the pavement as we rounded the corner of Main Street.

“And no matter what those idiot alpha males say, you don’t need to lock your fricking doors in Amber in the middle of the morning. Seriously. I’ve only been kidnapped twice. And neither of those times was from someone breaking into my house. So we’re good.”

Though I knew Amy had been kidnapped—everyone knew all of the things that had happened to the women tangled up with the Sons of Templar, as it was kind of hard to keep kidnappings and car bombs a secret—it was strange to hear her mention it so casually, like it was a trip to Bed Bath and Beyond or something.

She opened the door to the café, stopping and inhaling, her entire body sagging. “Lacey!” she yelled. “I need coffee.” She looked at me. “I know what I said about the unicorn tears, but I don’t think even Lacey is that talented.”

I smiled. “Peppermint tea is fine.”

She relayed that to Lacey by shouting it across the café in a way that managed to be not at all obnoxious. And by Lacey’s reaction, I was thinking it was normal.

I had my butt in a booth before I rightly knew what was going on. Amy was a hurricane.

She clasped her hands together on the top of the table. Her nails were polished perfectly with the same green as her shirt, and most of her fingers were adorned with tasteful and obviously expensive gold rings. The biggest being the solitaire diamond on her left hand.

“So, Lucy told me to track you down in order to yell at you for not calling her about the accident,” she began. “And sure, I’m happy to yell at people, but ‘people’ usually only include my husband and my best friend when she tells me I can’t put makeup on her baby. And I have a feeling I’m going to like you, so I’m not yelling.” Her eyes twinkled. “Plus, I didn’t come on Lucy’s behalf. That’s just a ruse for me getting the 411 on you and Gage.”

I blinked rapidly at her as Lacey set two mugs in front of us.

“I’m totally naming my firstborn after you,” Amy said to her, snatching her mug.

Lacey laughed. “You already had your firstborn, and he’s not named after me.”

“Well, I’ll change his name,” Amy replied after sipping. “How important is it to have Brock’s grandfather’s name in there anyway? He’s dead. He won’t know.”

Lacey laughed again before walking off.

Amy looked at me over her coffee cup as I was staring at my peppermint tea. “So,” she prompted, “you and Gage. How in the ever-loving fuck did that happen? You are so not what I expected him to go for.” She paused. “Not that that’s an insult. It’s a compliment, since I figured he’d snatch a black widow off death row to marry her.” She screwed up her nose. “You’re not a closet black widow, are you?”

“Well, if I was, I wouldn’t tell you, would I?” I deadpanned.

She stared at me and then burst out laughing. It was throaty and melodic. And contagious, because it was real and true. When someone laughed like that, with a genuine happiness that didn’t exist much in this world anymore, it was something that had to be joined in with.

“I take it back. You’re perfect for him,” she replied, wiping her eye.

I chewed my lip. “I’m not with him,” I hedged.

She waved my comment away. “Yes, yes, he’s a big stupid biker and you’re not letting him boss you around and claim you. All about that life, girlfriend. But we’re all friends here. You can tell me.”