Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC 8)

It was only after the front door closed and locked behind him that I realized how well and truly history was repeating itself. The men were different, in all ways that men could be different, but the club hadn’t changed. Even without the gun running, the core of the MC had stayed the same. The day to day life was the same.

Sleep was well and truly lost to me with all of those thoughts swirling. I got up. Made the bed, inhaling the smell of Kace and I mingled. Then I moved to the closet, fingering Ranger’s shirts, bringing them to my face. There was barely any scent now. So faint maybe I was imagining it.

I didn’t dwell on that, though. I kept busy with laundry. With cleaning. With making breakfast for the kids.

Jack was up first. He was an early riser, kike his father. He loved to greet the day. He’d dressed in a Nirvana tee. Shorts. Chuck Taylors. His hair was messy, getting longer now. I made a mental note to book him in for a cut.

My world swayed, thinking about how quickly my little boy would turn into a little man. When he’d be wearing motorcycle boots and a cut. I wouldn’t be making him breakfast for much longer, scheduling his haircuts.

“Sit down, honey,” I encouraged, choking up ever so slightly at how quickly my boy was growing up.

He did as I said, climbing up to the breakfast bar. “Kace not here for breakfast?” he asked.

Normally, Kace would be sitting either where he was, with coffee and his laptop, or he’d be making something for breakfast.

“No, he had to work, sweetie,” I answered.

Jack nodded, looking almost disappointed.

“What do you think of how things have changed lately?” I asked Jack, pushing a stack of pancakes toward him.

Jack eyed the pancakes as the bribe they were. I wasn’t the mom who gave me kids refined sugar for breakfast on a weekday. My boy was smart enough to know that I had an ulterior motive. He was also smart enough to see what Kace and I really were. Or what we could be. There was no way we were going to be anything if my children were uncomfortable with it.

“Of you and Kace, you mean?” he clarified.

I blinked. Yeah, my boy was smart. Too smart. He was going to remember this time. Maybe not all of it, because time was kinder to children when it came to tragedy. It dulled the edges, gently removed memories, details.

He wouldn’t remember all of it. But he’d remember enough. And even if he didn’t remember, this would affect him and Lily in ways I couldn’t even understand. My decisions were going to make all the differences in the adults they were going to become, how they’d behave in all of their future relationships.

No pressure or anything.

“Yes, sweetie, Kace and I,” I replied, sipping my coffee.

He frowned, looking from me to the pancakes. He hadn’t picked up his knife and fork yet, not a good sign. “I don’t like seeing you with someone that isn’t Dad,” he said finally.

My stomach churned. “I know.”

“But I like seeing you smile,” he continued. “And you’ve been smiling a lot more lately. He makes you smile. He cooks good mac and cheese. He knows about baseball. He wears the same patch that Dad did.” He paused, as if he were taking all of this into consideration. There were no quick, easy decisions for my boy. No, that wasn’t his way. Even before all of this.

He picked up his knife and fork. “He must be good, if Cade let him into the club. They don’t let in just anyone.”

Despite the fact that this conversation was heartbreaking, I had to swallow a giggle at that statement.

“So, yeah, Mom, I’m okay with it,” Jack mumbled through his first mouthful of pancakes. “I miss Dad, I know you do too. And Kace will never be my dad. But I think he’s good.”

Tears prickled at the backs of my eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Lily chirped as she sat down next to us. I turned to look at my daughter. She was still in her nightgown, a sleeping mask in the shape of a unicorn pushed up on her head. Lily was not an early riser. She liked to linger in her dreams.

“We’re talking about Kace, and whether you two are okay with him being around more often. As mommy’s...” I trailed off. No, I couldn’t use the word boyfriend. That felt wrong. But I couldn’t exactly use the word ‘fuckbuddy’ either.

“Special friend,” I finished lamely.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Mom, I know what special friend means.”

I blinked at her, hoping some little asshole on the playground hadn’t been schooling her on sex so fucking early. I didn’t want sex to be taboo or shameful in our house, but I also wanted my daughter to have a semblance of childhood innocence. “You do?”