Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC 3)

I turned my serious face on this time. “Take care of my kid, Kill,” I ordered softly.

His face turned serious. “Always do, Mia,” he returned.

Lexie rolled her eyes and waved her hands. “Helloooo, overprotective mother, overprotective boyfriend, I’m right here! My ears work and everything. So how about we stop talking about Lexie when she’s not here,” she ordered.

“Did you hear something?” I asked Killian, looking around the room.

He did the same. “Nope.”

Lexie let out a frustrated sigh and stomped out the door.

“Love you!” I called to her back.

She waved a hand. I was pretty sure I heard her mutter “Yeah, yeah, put it in writing.”

Killian grinned at me, then went after her.

I tried not to give in to the familiar feeling of panic that assaulted me every time she left the house. It helped slightly that Killian was with her. When we cut ties with the Sons of Templar and everyone connected to them, Killian was the one exception. I didn’t exactly have a choice. I was reasonably sure shit would get all Romeo and Juliet up in here if I had forbidden Lexie to see Killian, as well as everyone else. She had been mad at first. No, furious would have been more accurate. It was our first fight. Our first rip-roaring, “I hate you, Mom”, storm out the door kind of fight.

“You can’t do that!” she yelled. “You can’t just cut them all out of our life like that. They’re nice. Gwen’s nice. Amy’s nice. Rosie’s nice. They care about us, they’re your friends,” she half screeched.

I had tried to be calm. “They are nice, sweetie. They’re good people, all of them. But the stuff they’re involved in, it’s not good. Not for you and me to be around. It’s dangerous. I’m not going to take a chance on anything or anyone that might hurt you,” I had told her evenly.

“But it wasn’t even their fault!” she argued. “They didn’t do anything!”

I pursed my lips. I didn’t want to tell her people didn’t just rock up somewhere and start shooting at a motorcycle club for no reason. It would have been fuel to an already out of control fire.

“I know, doll. But we need to stay away from them, just until this dies down,” I lied. Forever was a long fricking time to a teenager. A week was a long time to a teenager.

Lexie had calmed slightly, then her body jerked. Full on jerked. “What about Zane?” she asked carefully. Quietly. Too quietly.

“Zane’s included too,” I said, trying to keep the hurt, the agony out of my voice in that statement.

Her whole frame had tightened at my words and her face flinched in hurt. “You can’t do that!” she yelled, tears beginning to stream down her face. “He cares about you, he cares about us. He needs us,” she cried. “He’s got no family without us. He’s playing guitar with me,” she added hysterically.

I flinched. My beautiful girl saw way too much sometimes.

“He’ll be okay,” I stepped forward, moving to take her arms.

She ripped them out of my grasp. “He won’t,” she hissed. I felt a lance go through me at my daughter’s chilling certainty. She stared at me with a look of pure fury. One that was not welcome on her usually smiling and carefree face. “I hate you,” she whispered brokenly. Then she ran out the door.

I stood there staring in the middle of the room, bleeding from the wounds of her words. The truth to them. Then I sank into the couch and sobbed.

She had returned an hour or so later, her face tearstained but her expression full of apology. She crawled up next to me on the sofa, cuddling her body into me.

“I’m sorry, Momma,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I don’t hate you, I never could. I know you’re just doing your best. For us. I understand.”

And with that, my little girl proved she was in fact a teenage unicorn. In the space of an hour her head seemed to have wrapped itself around reasons I even struggled to grasp. And for every day after that, she seemed to be back to her happy self. Sometimes, however, I caught her looking over at Zane’s empty house from time to time with undisguised hurt on her face.

That was another thing. Zane. Every waking moment I was thinking of him. Yearning for him. Hating myself for the decision I made. Questioning it, even when I knew it was the right thing to do. To protect Lexie. But that didn’t stop the hurt. From me bleeding inside. From me struggling to find sleep every night. Then waking up to nightmares of me saying goodbye to him. Losing him. I don’t know how I would’ve coped if I had to know he was right there, across the street. Simple. I wouldn’t have. I would’ve had to pack up and move. Which I had already considered. But I wouldn’t do that to Lexie. Uproot her again. Take her away from the boy she loved, the band she lived for. Amazingly enough they were still together; surviving a shooting together creates a bond even worried parents can’t break. But luckily, the night everything happened was the last night I saw him. His house stayed dark and empty, every day, every night for two months. The grass grew long and I thought it might run wild until I saw Cade ride up on his bike and set to mowing it. I’d smashed the glass I was holding when I had heard the Harley pipes at first. Then seeing Cade, my heart dropped. I watched him for a while, then I saw him stare over to our place, something working in his mind. I swear he started to make his way over before he shook his head and hopped on his bike. I was beyond glad he didn’t show up on my doorstep.

I had been avoiding Gwen, Rosie, Amy, Lucy, and everyone connected to the club. I didn’t like doing it. In fact, I hated it. I dodged every call I received, ignored every text and deleted every voicemail. I felt like an evil shrew. Lexie was right. They were nice people. The best. I had grown attached to them all, felt a bond with them. It hurt me to have to cut ties like I was doing. I questioned it multiple times, like when I gave in and listened to a voicemail Gwen had left.