by KB Winters
John’s face turned red, and I didn’t wait around to endure the shit storm he was about to let loose of on the remaining crew members. I wasn’t his bitch, and he’d pushed me to my limits. I stalked out of the shop, planning to go down and clean my workspace once I knew the coast was clear.
In the silence of my apartment, I warmed up a few slices of leftover pizza and sat down to watch the news, mindlessly shoveling the food in, while my mind wandered back to the encounter with Kat. While there was a part of me holding onto a twinge of guilt, I found myself circling back to the logic that number one, I hadn’t been doing anything wrong, and number two, Kat was not my girlfriend or wife or anyone who truly had a right to be jealous over what girls I worked with, looked at, talked to. However, it didn’t matter how I presented it to myself— I couldn’t get the devastated look on her face, out of my mind.
Halfway through my meal, I paused the TV, and set aside my plate so I could fish my cell phone out of my pocket. I scrolled through my contacts and landed on her number, my finger hovering over the call button, while I tried to come up with a good opening line. Maybe she’d had enough time to cool off and would be able to let the whole thing drop, maybe she’d even apologize to me for going off the deep end.
Right, Jace, and maybe she’ll rush over and let you fuck her silly like some fucking romantic comedy…get a grip, asshole.
Nothing else came to mind, so I pocketed the phone, telling myself I’d see her at the diner the next day and by then, it should have all blown over, and went back to my dinner. Minutes later, I was at the sink, scrubbing the cheesy remnants from my plate, when there was a soft knock on the door. My heart jumped into my throat, pounding out an urgent beat. It had to be her. I wiped my hands off on the kitchen towel, and went to the door. I slid it open, and took a repulsed step back, startled to find Sonya and Natalie, both stripped down to their bras and panties. Sonya held up a bottle of Grey Goose and a naughty smile spread over her exotic face. “Wanna party?”
“No,” I answered, my voice flat, my lip curled back. Once upon a time, their approach would have worked like a charm. During the filming of the first season, I’d had more one night stands and hook-ups than most frat members get in four years. It had been a domino effect, I’d already had a cult like following in the tattoo community, and when Hollywood had come for me, things had blown up overnight. Women started recognizing me wherever I went, and were willing to drop their panties if I even flashed a smile in their general direction.
It had been a crazy ride, but one that I had sworn off after my breakdown. Parties and women and drinking and drugs, it had all been a band aid for what was lurking much deeper below the surface, and once that all broke free, the band aid no longer worked.
“Awww, come on,” Natalie purred, taking a step towards me, her hands starting where they left off back when we were standing outside on the sidewalk.
“Sorry ladies,” I said, using the term loosely. “I’m a taken man.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. In my mind, my heart was with the beautiful brunette across the street, regardless of how long I had to wait to get hers in return.
Sonya smiled and took a swig from the bottle, licking the remnants from her lips with a seductive flick of her tongue. “We won’t tell,” she promised, flashing another dark smile.
“Yeah, you’re secrets are safe with us, handsome. Come on, let’s have some fun.” Natalie took another step towards me, trying to cross the threshold.
I slid the door in the track, getting it halfway closed, before Sonya reached out and stopped it with her hand. “What the fuck? Are you Jace Winslow or some kind of pussy ass body double?”
Her harsh words left me reeling for a beat. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Sonya sighed, as though I was exhausting her—and not in the way she wanted. “You’re a legend. You love sex, and lots of it. So what gives? Are we not hot enough to meet your standards?” She fired back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes fixing me with a narrow stare.
Meanwhile, Natalie’s head ping-ponged, looking from one of us to the other, like she couldn’t figure out exactly what was going on. Seriously, what is she on?
“I’m not that guy anymore, all right?” I said, closing the conversation. I didn’t owe them anything. Sonya flipped me the bird and dragged Natalie away from my doorway.
Well, I guess that’s that…
My reputation hadn’t exactly been a well kept secret, I used to love flaunting how easy it was for me to get any girl to go home with me, it had become a sport or game between me and the crew I’d run with back in Chicago. However, as I turned over the whole scenario in my mind as I tried to fall asleep that night, a chilling question gripped me and wouldn’t let me go…what—if anything—did Kat know about all that? Could my past mistakes be the thing keeping her from starting a future with me?
Chapter Nine — Kat
The two weeks following the confrontation with Jace flew by, and while Jace continued his afternoon visits to the diner, I convinced Patrice to take over for me, and my tone must have left no room for discussion, because she agreed to take over without further questions, which was very un-Patrice like. Jace noticed the switch immediately, and would get up from his table to seek me out, until I finally started hiding in the storage room while he was there. Once I started my disappearing act, he started texting and calling, all of which I ignored.
Hilda was the most devastated by the recent change of events, she’d asked countless questions, and I kept my answers simple and vague, claiming it was the seven year age gap, we wanted different things out of life, which it would never work, we were incompatible on a core level. I got the feeling that she didn’t believe a word of it, but after the first few attempts to get the dirt, she gave up, and we all moved on.
At least, as best as I could.
“Jax, baby, you all packed?” I called down the hall as I shrugged into my own jacket.
Jax came racing into the living room, his back pack on, but left unzipped and the contents spilled out behind him as he ran. Mickey was bouncing around, immediately finding a rubber ball that he decided was his, and as soon as Jax saw him chewing on it, he burst into tears, yelling, “Mine! Mine!”
I sighed and went to work diffusing the situation, and repacking Jax’s assortment of belongings. “Okay buddy, we gotta get going.”
By Friday afternoon, I was more than ready to have a weekend to myself. I hated leaving Jax with Mitch and Hannah, but I found myself looking forward to having a quiet house, and time to catch up on sleep and housework. I knew that what had happened between Jace and I couldn’t be classified as a “break-up” because we’d never actually been together, but the feelings and emotions pouring out of me were identical. We didn’t have a pile of memories to sort through, but the ones we did have, I clung to for dear life, even though I kept telling myself to let them go. I hadn’t been sleeping well, and by the weekend, I was popping vitamin C and using hand sanitizer on every surface of the house.
I was ready to open the front door, when Jax stopped abruptly and looked up at me. He tugged at the edge of my jacket, and said, “Mama?” His eyes went wide, like he was struggling with his next set of words. “Jace is my friend?”
His little question twisted the knife another inch into my heart, and I struggled to fight back the tears that stung my eyes, as I knelt down to be face to face with my sweet little angel. “Yes, sweetie. Jace is your friend. He’s just busy, okay?” I hated myself even more for lying to him, but how else was I supposed to explain it? I barely understood what the hell had happened—there was no way my three year old would be able to comprehend.
At my reassurance, Jax smiled again and pet Mickey on the head. “Mickey is my friend.”
I laughed through the tears that blurred my eyes and pressed a kiss to Jax’s head. “Yes, of course. Come on sweetheart, we have to get going, we’re going to be late.”
We drove the half hour out of town to Mitch and Hannah’s and everything was ri
ght in the world as I listened to my little boy serenade me from the backseat, singing some song he either heard somewhere, or made up, most of his words were jumbled and I couldn’t decipher most of it, but the sound of his sweet voice and his smile was a wonderful balm to my bruised heart.
When I pulled up the driveway, I noticed that Mitch was standing on the porch, as though he was waiting for our arrival. I glanced at the clock on the dash of the car—we were a few minutes late, but with a three year old that was to be expected…
I parked, making a conscious effort not to look at my ex as I went around to the backseat and got Jax freed from his car seat. He took off running as soon as his feet hit the ground, and I heard Mitch greet him and usher him into the house with Mickey on his heels. However, when I started up the walk to go say goodbye, Mitch crossed his arms and stepped to the center of the porch, blocking my path. “We need to talk,” he announced.
And just like that, my heart dropped out the bottom of my chest and landed in the dark, hollow pit in my stomach. “About?”
“Our custody arrangement.”
I scoffed. “You can’t be serious!”
Mitch’s stern expression assured me that he was. “Hannah’s pregnant.” The way he said it, made it seem like that should explain away his previous statement, but all it did was confuse me further. I rolled my hand, indicating for him to continue, he scoffed and added, “It’s important for both of us that Jax gets as much time as possible with his new little brother or sister, just the weekends isn’t going to be enough.”
Something snapped, and before I could stop it, a hollow laugh erupted from deep inside me. Mitch cocked a brow at me, silently asking whether I’d lost my mind. Who knows? Maybe I had. Maybe it had finally happened. I laughed until tears sprang to my eyes, before beginning to descend back to normal.
“What on earth do you find so amusing about this, Kat?”
I pointed at him, smiling, “Oops, careful, you wouldn’t want Hannah hearing you use that name,” I said. Hannah had been the reason behind Mitch switching from calling me Kat to Katherine. Secretly, I think she was threatened by the fact that when I’d first found out about their affair, he’d called her a mistake. Why she had gone on to marry the lying, cheating, son of a bitch was something I stopped trying to understand a long time ago.
“Katherine,” he hissed, warning me. “This isn’t a laughing matter. The custody of our child isn’t a joke. What would the courts say about this? You’re being very unprofessional.”
I balled my hands to keep myself from flipping him the bird. He’d been threatening me for such a long time, his words had lost their meaning. “Fine, you want my serious answer, here goes, no court is going to allow you more custody simply because your whore is knocked up,” I snarled.
Mitch reared back, a delicious look of shock on his face, and I immediately bit back a triumphant smile at my own ballsy comment. I’d never been able to speak to him like that before, to tell him what I really thought of him and his sham of a marriage. “We’ll see about that,” Mitch declared, regaining his frosty composure. “Jax!” He bellowed back through the open front door. “Come say goodbye.”
Jax burst through the door and wrapped me in a hug, his fingers sticky with some treat Hannah must have given him inside. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, barely getting a “bye mama” before he raced back inside—presumably to get the rest of whatever snack he’d been munching on.
I knew I should be happy that he wasn’t crying and pitching a fit like normal, but compiled with Mitch’s news, it fucking stung. When Jax was out of earshot, Mitch cast me a dark look. “The mediator that we worked with will be meeting us, all three of us, to discuss the changes Hannah and I are proposing.”
Like it or not, I’d have to go, and while I was fairly confident that I was right, a court wouldn’t give them full custody for such a ridiculous reason, there was a tiny sliver of me that was terrified. I drowned that part out long enough to say, “Fine, I need two weeks’ notice to get it off from work, and Monday and Wednesday evenings I have school.”
Mitch sneered at me. “The meeting is next Monday, Katherine. One thirty.”
“What the hell? How could you arrange something like that without my consent?” I raged.
Mitch offered a smarmy smile that made my skin crawl. “It was the only appointment available. At least, that’s what my lawyer told me when he called and set it up for us.”
Icicles slid down my spine, remembering the smug face of Mitch’s high powered attorney. If he was involved—things were going to go south, very, very quickly. “You’re unbelievable. It’s like you don’t even realize that what you’re fighting for is our son, Mitch. Jax. He’s not a toy or a car or a beach house. He’s a person, a little person we created, and you want to drag him through this crap. And for what? To get back at me? What the hell did I ever do to you?”
Mitch didn’t answer, he just stood there, staring at me like I’d completely gone off the reservation. “I’m not dragging our son through anything. I am working to get him the best life possible. One that involved less time with some stranger next door, leftover diner meals, and certainly without any tattooed biker guys with a history of losing their shit and trashing hotel rooms.”
I was stunned to silence. He meant every venomous word that poured from his lips. It wasn’t a game to him—this was going to be war.
Hot rage seethed through me, but I spun on my heel and stalked down the drive, this time, not bothering to hold back, and flipped him off as I backed down the drive. Only once he was back inside the house, did the fear that I’d caged up let loose, wreaking havoc on my emotions the whole drive home.
Chapter Ten — Jace
Kat had made it painfully obvious that she didn’t care to see me again. She’d been ducking me at the diner, ignoring my calls, and hadn’t answered any of my text messages. I’d seen her at the grocery store over the weekend. She’d been crouched down in the cold and flu aisle, checking out a couple different bottles of medicine. She looked like hell and my heart churned at the thought of her spending the weekend alone, sick, and undoubtedly missing her son. I’d called out to her, but when she turned to see me, she rolled her eyes, threw both bottles in her basket, and walked the opposite direction down the store aisle.
When she wasn’t at work on the following Monday, I knew something was up. I asked Patrice where she was, and after a few tries, finally coaxed her to confess that Kat had called in sick. I abandoned my normal lunch order, and instead, asked for two bowls of soup and two cheese sandwiches to go. Patrice looked a little nervous, but in the end went to the kitchen to put in my order.
Several minutes later, she reappeared, and set the bag down on the edge of my table. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, while I fished a twenty from my leather wallet.
“What do you mean?” I asked, somewhat startled by her statement.
“With Kat,” she said. “Her ex really worked her over, okay.”
I nodded slowly, unsure how to respond.
“We all love Kat and want her to be happy,” she added, turning away before I could rush to defend my intentions.
I picked up the bag of food and left, still puzzling over Patrice’s cryptic warning as I went to Kat’s townhouse. The night she’d invited me over for dinner, she’d opened up a lot about her fears and her ex. The guy sounded like a first rate douche bag in my book, but I also understood that Kat had to play nice for the sake of their son. I admired the hell out of her for keeping everything together. Which—I added to myself as I parked along the curb and retrieved the food from the side pouch on the bike—was exactly why I was standing in her driveway with soup and sandwiches to help her feel better. Kat deserved the world, and I wanted to be the one to give it to her.
Her car was parked in front of her garage, and I wondered what was in the garage that made it so she couldn’t park inside. Bikes? Boxes of storage? I shook my head, focusing my mind on what mattered—finding a wa
y to get her to let me inside long enough to patch things up. I went up the stairs two at a time, and knocked, but there was no response. I tried again, and waited another minute, but still nothing. I peeked through the long window to the left of the door, but she had a filmy curtain blocking the view inside, which was smart, but frustrating in the moment.
I was about to turn back when I heard a rumble inside. I took a step closer to the door and grabbed the door knob, flinging the door open at the sound of a loud crash. “Kat?” I called out in the direction of the bang that was still echoing in the air. A split second later, Kat’s face peeked around the corner and her mouth dropped at the sight of me standing in her entryway with a takeout bag from the diner. “Are you all right?” I asked. She stepped out and I ran my eyes over her, as though checking for gaping wounds. “What’s going on in here?”
She crossed her arms. “Nothing,” she insisted, setting her jaw.
I’d expected to find her wrapped up in a bathrobe with a pink nose and messy hair, but she was actually made up, her hair tucked back in a complicated looking knot on the top of her head, and she was wearing a sleek black pantsuit, with an emerald green top underneath that made her eyes absolutely dazzle. Although, I realized a split second later, with the way she was staring at me, I could have mistaken rage with dazzle…
“Kat, what’s going on?” I asked, taking two steps inside, closing the door behind me. “It sounds like a construction crew was on the loose in here two seconds ago. Are you okay?”
“Yes!” She threw her hands in the air. “I threw some pots and pans in the kitchen, okay?”
“You threw them?”
She scoffed and disappeared into the kitchen. I followed her and watched as she stooped over to rearrange a pile of pots and pans on the floor in front of the open storage drawer under the oven. “This drawer is stupid, like whoever designed it needs to be put away or sued or something…”
She was fuming mad, but I couldn’t help but smile at her statement. I set the bag on the small dining table and went to her side, gently leading her off the floor and to the table. “I brought you some lunch, I’ll do this,” I instructed, ushering her into a chair before she could protest.
