Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1) Page 5

  This is insane, Esme.

  “Okay, Rayna Claire. I’ll go cake tasting with you,” She murmured.

  Rayna’s whole face lit up as she squealed, her hands clapping together excitedly.

  “Thank God! Don’t get me wrong, I love my man, but he’s like a damn grizzly bear with all of the wedding planning.”

  Esme didn't know Fury too well, but she had to laugh at the imagery- he was huge, and he did growl most of the time.

  “We better get going, baby. Time’s a-wastin’!”

  Esme followed closely behind Rayna, their hands still clasped tightly, her fingers gripping Rayna tightly. Esme as almost afraid that if she let go, if she opened her eyes any wider, Rayna and everything around her would disappear. Esme hadn’t encountered any profound changes of her own, not since Chris’s death, but she knew she was due for one soon.

  She couldn't go on the way she was, and apparently everyone (including Axel) had known that before she did.

  As Esme snapped out of her own inner dialogue, she realized Rayna was leading her directly towards the garage; where none other than Fury and Prettyboy stood, watching them.

  Esme noticed that both men, especially Prettyboy, had oil smeared across their tanned skin, but while Fury had a smile on his face, Prettyboy remained stoically silent.

  “What’s up, baby?”

  Fury’s deep timbre caught Esme’s attention, and she had to force herself to look at him instead of staring into the green eyes practically igniting her skin on fire.

  “We’re headed to our cake tasting appointment. You okay if I leave you behind?”

  Esme tried not to laugh at the look of utter relief on Fury’s handsome face, but her grin gave away her amusement.

  “No offense, but that shit makes me wanna claw my fuckin’ eyes out, baby. You two go, have fun,” Fury said as he leaned forward to press a sensual kiss to Rayna’s lips.

  Esme felt herself blush at the public display of affection, so she averted her gaze.

  While she was still holding Rayna’s hand, and she was grateful for the physical contact that made her feel all but normal, she couldn't help but glance at Prettyboy; who was still watching her.

  “Hi,” She breathed.

  His bandana wrinkled for a second as he waved one hand at her; a hand that she realized, was scarred. The puckered, pink flesh caught her gaze and she was surprised that she hadn't noticed it before.

  It looked like it hurt, and she wanted to caress it to see if the skin was as rough as it looked, but she couldn't bring herself to say another fucking word.

  As if an angel was perched on her shoulder in the form of one Chris Wilder, she heard his voice in her head:

  He’s a good man, darlin’.

  It had to be a figment of her imagination.

  Much like all of their encounters since he died on the side of a winding road.

  Since he took his last breath.

  Esme knew that she could be considered crazy; how many people still see or talk to their dead spouses? How many people out there are haunted by their loved ones, to the point of hallucinating full on conversations with them?

  She didn't know, and she never wanted to find out.

  When she looked back at Fury and Rayna, he was handing her a money clip bursting with cash.

  She smiled endearingly at him, “I don't need your money,” She said.

  Fury winked.

  “Humor your old man. Spend a little, have a good day. I’ll be here waitin’ when you get home.”

  Rayna’s blue eyes watched Fury for a moment longer and Esme took that opportunity to look at Prettyboy one more time.

  “See you later.”

  The words slipped from between her teeth as she found herself reaching out for him.

  Like a paper clip to a magnet or a moth to a flame, she reached out for him- but at the last second, she let her hand fall between them.

  Prettyboy watched her, confused, as she glanced at Rayna and Fury, who were both watching them silently.

  “Are you ready?,” Rayna asked softly.

  Esme jerked her hand back to her side and nodded.

  “Come on, we’ll take my bike.”

  Esme’s eyes widened and she tugged her hand out of Rayna’s grip.

  “Wait, just- wait a second,” Esme stuttered as they neared a deep purple motorcycle that had the most beautiful custom designs on it; the galaxy, a fluid mixture of dark purple, blue, black, and turquoise.

  Rayna turned towards her.

  “What’s wrong, baby? You don’t like riding?”

  “I haven't been on a bike since Chris died,” She admitted.

  Rayna’s eyes widened momentarily before she tugged on Esme’s hand one more time and then let it drop.

  “Fury said something to me, once. It was important then, and I think it’s important now. Esme, you’ve done six months of grieving. Six months of active mourning. Nothing will ever fill the place in your heart that belongs to Chris, and I’m not trying to tell you what to do by any means…but at this point, there’s only one thing left that you can do,” Rayna said as she pulled a sparkly purple helmet from her handle bars. Esme watched her untangle the straps to the helmet before she swallowed audibly and asked, “What’s that?”

  Rayna smiled sadly and cupped Esme’s cheek with her free hand before she held out the helmet towards her in her other one.

  “You heal.”

  Chapter 9

  Prettyboy watched Esme and Rayna leave, wondering what the hell had just happened between them.

  Haven’t I been wondering that since I found her kneeling in a pile of glass?

  Since I heard her cries through the bathroom wall?

  “You stare after her any harder, your eyes are gonna go crossed,” Fury said.

  Prettyboy turned back towards the bike he was restoring.

  “I ain’t starin’.”

  “Man, you were practically eye-fucking her. Not that I blame you, Esmeralda Quinn is a beautiful woman.”

  Prettyboy’s eyes narrowed, but he didn't dare turn back to look at Fury.

  He didn't want his brother to see how fucking right he was.

  How fucking sad he was.

  “You cant keep denyin’ yourself happiness, Prettyboy.”

  Of all the things he'd expected to hear, that wasn’t it.

  “I’m not.”

  He heard the telltale sound of Fury dropping his wrench to the ground, but still, he didn't turn around.

  “You and I need to have a talk-”

  “There’s nothing to say,” Prettyboy demanded.

  Fury came to stand beside him, and the only reason he knew that was because he could suddenly see his black boots in his peripherals from where he sat next to the bike.

  “You’ve been in a rut since the shit with the Steel Ponies.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Prettyboy did look up at Fury then, but he didn't see anger lining his features- no, what he saw was much, much worse.

  He saw pity.

  Fuck…

  Fury’s jaw clenched as he rubbed a hand over the bare skin, his greasy hand leaving behind some tendrils of black along his cheek.

  “Lizzie’s death wasn’t your fault.”

  Prettyboy’s eyes clenched closed and he shook his head.

  “Stop it.”

  “No! Jesus, it’s been over a year. Ox and everyone else may be okay with you slippin’ away, but I won't let you do that. Look at me, fucker! It wasn’t your fault,” Fury demanded.

  Prettyboy stood to his full height, but he was still an inch shorter than Fury.

  Size didn't matter to him, though. Not anymore.

  “Fuck you, Fury! You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Prettyboy said.

  Fury barked out a humorless laugh that echoed the sadness inside of Prettyboy’s chest.

  “Of course I do. My sister was murdered. Taken away from me. She was all I had left before Rayna got here!”

  Fury s
hook his dark head before he pressed a finger into Prettyboy’s chest.

  “Your face got fucked up. I found you literally melting into the pavement, and I saved you. I stayed by your side, even after Lizzie died. I never blamed you, not once. I’ve watched you wither away into this, this shell of who you used to be. You’re disinterested, you’re quiet, shit man, you’re fuckin’ drowning! I won’t let you go down the same path I followed,” Fury said angrily.

  His nostrils flared, but Prettyboy wasn't done yet.

  How could he be?

  Fury was right on all accounts, except for one…

  He stepped closer to Fury.

  “Your path led you to Rayna. The best thing thats ever happened to you. Look at me, Fury!,” He paused to lift his bandana, “I don't have some sweet little woman waitin’ for me at the end of my road, brother. Ya know what I’ve got? I’ve got these fuckin’ scars, a limp, and if I’m lucky, I’ll go out guns blazin’.”

  Fury’s mouth fell open as he watched Prettyboy, his dark eyes filled with something akin to pain.

  “That ain’t true. You got us, your family! And I bet you could have Esmeralda Quinn too,” Fury murmured.

  Prettyboy stiffened.

  “She ain’t mine to have.”

  “You’re wrong. Her old man is gone! It may take some fuckin’ time, and it may hurt like hell, but one day she’s gonna move on. One day she’ll be ready, and from the way you’ve been watching her, I think you’re ready to make that happen.”

  Prettyboy felt the truth of that statement all the way down to his bones.

  Beneath the scarred flesh, beneath the sturdy protection of his ribcage, beneath the layers of guilt and utter self-loathing.

  Prettyboy looked up at Fury, ready to argue, but he realized there was nothing to argue about.

  “Let me ask you something, before you leave this conversation pissed off at me,” Fury said.

  Prettyboy ran a hand through his hair.

  “What?”

  “If your path did lead to someone like Esmeralda, would you still be so quick to give up?”

  ◆◆◆

  Esme had her eyes closed for the first half of the ride.

  She had to remind herself that she was riding with Rayna, not with Chris, and the reality of that was a bitter pill to swallow.

  For months she’d convinced herself that she didn't ever want to ride again, but as soon as she opened her eyes to the blinding sunshine around and the gentle breeze ripping through her hair, she realized she was okay.

  Not okay with everything, but okay with riding again.

  The scenery around her was beautiful, majestic even.

  The tingling sensation she felt deep in her belly wormed its way outwards until sweet, sweet exhilaration had her laughing into the wind in a way she never thought she would again. The bittersweet feeling had her holding onto Rayna and watching with avid interest as they finally swerved into town.

  Until she recognized where they were headed.

  Until she caught a glimpse of a familiar street…

  Just as Esmeralda thought she would, Rayna circled around towards the bakery she'd bought her own wedding cake at.

  A three tiered chocolate masterpiece topped with a couple on a motorcycle that had not only tasted delicious, but was a mutual choice for both her and Chris.

  Chris loves chocolate.

  Loved…

  Chris loved chocolate.

  As Rayna parked the bike, Esme waited with bated breath for her to turn off the engine. Her thighs were vibrating from the ride, and her heart was pounding in her chest as the memories threatened to flood behind her eyes like a flash flood.

  “We’re here,” Rayna said cheerfully.

  Briefly, Esme was distracted by the sight of her husband reflected in the glass windows of the bakery; his cut was askew like always. His mouth was perched into a smirk she knew all too well.

  Esme felt the tears threaten to overtake her as she watched him wave in her direction, still smiling, still so fucking handsome it almost killed her to see him again-

  “Esme!”

  Esmeralda jerked at the sound of Rayna’s voice, her wet blue eyes meeting the curious pair trained on her.

  “You okay?”

  Am I okay?

  “Yeah…I’m alright,” Esme whispered.

  Except I'm not, and I don’t know when I will be.

  Yet, even as she turned back to face the bakery again, she found herself looking for the lean reflection of the man she’d lost.

  She found herself looking for that smile as she slowly got off of Rayna’s bike and handed her the helmet she’d been wearing.

  “Esme, are you sure you’re alright?”

  “This is where Chris and I bought our cake.”

  Rayna frowned.

  “I’m sorry, I didn't even think about that, baby. Are you going to be able to handle going in there?”

  Esme thought about lying, but decided to tell the truth.

  “No. No, because I’ve been hiding for six months and all of a sudden I’m out here in the real world, trying to find my way around without him here, and I just…I didn’t know that I would end up here. I didn't know that I would find myself in this predicament and I- I keep telling myself that it’s time to move on, and yet everywhere I look…there he is,” Esme said.

  Her chest heaved for a moment, a shaky gesture that had her gritting her teeth.

  Rayna watched her like a hawk before she slowly rested the helmet back on the handle bars.

  “Esme, I didn't mean to push you. I just thought getting out would make you feel better,” She said.

  Esme shook her head and ran her fingers through her long hair.

  “Trust me, it’s not you. I thought hiding away was the answer; I thought that if I avoided the memories for long enough, they wouldn't completely fucking suffocate me when they surfaced, but I was wrong. They’re here and he’s everywhere,” She said as she buried her face into her hands.

  She pressed her palms against her eyes until she was sure she wouldn't completely lose it, and when she opened them she saw Rayna watching her with those misty eyes again.

  “I’m sorry,” She said.

  “Don’t apologize. If I lost Fury, I would be worse off than you are by a long shot, Esme. This is normal and I know it’s hard, but if I’ve learned anything in the last year, it’s that you have to face these things head on. You have to lead them, you can’t let them lead you.”

  Esme understood that Rayna, in a sense, knew what she was talking about. She was familiar with that spine numbing pain that could swallow a person whole and spit them back out completely mangled.

  “If I go in there, I’m going to remember that day vividly. If I go in there Rayna, it’s going to tear me apart inside.”

  Rayna glanced at the bakery before she turned and, once again, held a hand out in Esme’s direction.

  “If you go in there with me, I’ll get pleasantly intoxicated with you tonight.”

  Esme weighed her options: stand outside and ruin her new friend’s cake tasting, or step into that fucking bakery and help her find a fantastic cake for her wedding.

  Step into that bakery and face the ghost of her husband.

  With trembling fingers she took Rayna’s hand and sighed when she was met with her grin.

  “You’re a strong woman, Esmeralda Quinn. And for the record? I’m proud of you.”

  Esme tucked that compliment and vote of confidence close to her chest as she stepped over the threshold, the familiar scent nearly knocking her on her ass.

  “You can do this, Esme.”

  Esme didn't let go of Rayna’s hand as she replied, “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 10

  Prettyboy told himself he would steer clear of Fury for the night.

  He told himself that he would keep his space, ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head that told him Fury was right.

  Fuck it, he’d ignore everyone, especially Esmeral
da Quinn.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  Torch asked him this as he poured Prettyboy his third glass of bourbon.

  “Yeah.”

  Torch leaned back against the bar and crossed his burly arms over his chest.

  “You sure?”

  Prettyboy grunted and Torch sighed.

  “You all worked up over the new piece of ass that’s here?”

  Prettyboy’s eyes narrowed as his gaze snapped to Torch’s.

  “Excuse me?”

  Torch held his hands up, his mouth lifting at the corner.

  “What, man? You think I don’t notice the way pussy seems to fuck everything up around here?”

  Prettyboy didn't even realize he was reaching for Torch until he had one fist wrapped around his cut as he slammed him face first into the bar.

  “Esmeralda Quinn isn’t some piece of ass you can insult around here, she's an old lady! You’re a long ways from being patched in, so let me give you a little tip that may help you get there faster: watch your fucking mouth,” Prettyboy said as he released the prospect from his grip.

  Torch sucked in a breath through a bloody nose as he quickly nodded.

  “We got a problem here?,” Prettyboy heard from behind him.

  He turned to see Ox watching them with wide amber eyes.

  “No. Or do we?,” Prettyboy asked Torch, who was now wiping blood from his chin.

  “No, boss. We’re good.”

  Ox only nodded before he motioned towards Prettyboy.

  “Follow me, we got some shit to discuss.”

  Prettyboy sent one more glare in Torch’s direction.

  “Sure,” Prettyboy said as he followed Ox outside.

  “I heard you got into a scuffle with Fury today,” Ox said.

  Prettyboy only grunted again but Ox stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

  “Fury cares about you. We all do. And I think, as your president and your friend, I’ve let you down.”

  Prettyboy hadn't seen Ox so serious in a long while; not since Rayna showed up covered in blood and tears.

  “I’m okay.”

  Ox laughed, but the sound didn't resonate with Prettyboy.

  “You’re not. I know it, you know it. I’ve let you down, and for that I'm truly sorry. But, I want to help you now.”