Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC 8)

We’d just gotten off it and were standing in front of a familiar motel.

It had definitely fallen into disrepair since the last time I was here. Which was saying something, since it wasn’t that long ago since I’d last been here. Even though it seemed like eons had passed.

Where it used to only look somewhat questionable but functional for a road trip traveler who was tired, hungry and didn’t have many other choices, the motel was now a place even the most desperate of long haulers wouldn’t likely venture into. They’d get another large coffee from the gas station up the road and take their chances.

I liked that it had slowly started to decay since the day I came here. That it was crumbling to ruin. Because one day it wouldn’t be here anymore. One day, I wouldn’t need it to be here.

And it wasn’t meant to be anything but ugly. If someone had bought it, redid it, tried to make it something desirable, comfortable, pretty, I would’ve hated it. This was right.

I reached out to squeeze Kace’s hand. “The first time I came here, I’d just lost my baby.”

There was a sharp intake of breath beside me. I didn’t look at him. I found solace in the crumbling paint and a crooked sign.

“It was after Jack,” I continued. “Another boy. Four months along. There was no reason for it. Nothing we did wrong. The doctor’s said it just... happens sometimes. They can’t explain why. Other than death is all around us. Death doesn’t always make sense, doesn’t target the evil, the deserving. It just... is.”

I sighed, thinking of the hell I’d gone through six months ago, waiting for Kace to wake up, terrified he never would or that he’d be changed forever. Then seeing him struggle with the most basic of things, seeing him grit his teeth through the most basic of things, trying to hide the extent of his pain because he didn’t want me to feel any.

Those six months had been hard. On me. On Kace. On the kids. But they’d also been... something else entirely. We’d created something.

“It was the first time I’d really experienced it, death,” I continued. “And in the most brutal and horrific way. My baby died inside me. No matter what the doctor said, no matter what Ranger said, I knew it was my fault. I was the reason for it. There was no way to breathe under that weight. Not with the most understanding, loving husband. Or kind, supportive friends. There was only escape. So that’s what I did. I stopped here because I was tired. Because I needed somewhere to hide. To tend to my wounds. And because I liked its ugliness. Liked that the sheets were scratchy, the bathroom dirty. It’s what I needed at the time. Eventually, someone came to get me.”

“Ranger?” Kace guessed.

I realized then it was the first time I’d heard Kace say his name. Surely, that couldn’t have been right. It wasn’t as if Kace was afraid of my husband’s ghost. Wasn’t like he was living in fear of my dead husband. He hadn’t ever made me feel guilty or uncomfortable for still mentioning him. Still grieving. There was no forcing me to forget him, to move on. Kace was perfectly comfortable with sharing me with my dead husband.

Yet I hadn’t ever heard him say his name out loud.

Was that on purpose? Had he waited for me to bring him up because he didn’t want to push me? Hurt me? I made a mental note to go back to that thought later.

“No, not Ranger,” I answered.

My mind went back to those memories. Before all of this, before Kace, the recollections coming back in crisp detail. Stark color. As if they had just happened yesterday.

But now they were blurrier. My pain couldn’t get through as easily. Like my body had some kind of protective shell around it. Or maybe I was finally starting to heal.

“It was Gage,” I clarified. “I’m sure that Ranger fought him hard on being the one to come and get me. No one mentioned it, but I know it was most likely not pretty. He wasn’t exactly the kind of man who would sit back and let anyone else be with his wife when she was in pain. Especially his best friend. But he was also a man who knew when to step back, even if it hurt him. Which I know it did. But he knew me well enough to understand I couldn’t face him, not then. And he loved me enough to put every one of his instincts and needs aside. Because he’d just lost a baby too. He was bleeding too. But he wanted to tend to my wounds first. Like always.”

I smiled. It was easier to remember these things about him now. It still hurt, I figured it always would, at least a little. But now I could see Ranger more clearly. His death didn’t permeate every thought of him.