“Have you tried to talk to him?”

“No,” I answer, wishing I could talk to him. Each day gets harder not hearing from him.

“Why is that?” she asks, not giving up.

“I don’t know. Maybe from fear of rejection?” I shrug, unsure I understand my concerns. I think it's fear, fear of what he will say. Fear he might dismiss what we’ve lost.

“Fear?” she asks, looking up, her interest piqued.

“Fear of his anger.”

“Do you think Sy is angry?” She asks the question that’s been weighing me down from the moment I served up the hidden truth.

“I know he is.” Of course, he is angry. I kept something from him. Something huge. Even if he held me and let me mourn our child, he is angry.

“Why would he be angry?”

“Why do you ask all these questions?” I deflect, but she expects it, so she waits patiently for me to answer. “Fine. He’s angry because I couldn’t trust him with the truth when I should have. He’s mad because I hid it, pushed him away.” She nods, writing more shit down in her stupid book.

“So, are you going to talk to him, Holly?”

I don’t reply, unsure of the answer to her question. Can I go to him, open and willing to accept whatever wrath he delivers my way? And then could I walk away if he delivers a blow I'm not ready for, knowing this is my fault?

“Okay, I want you to do some homework this week,” she says, letting my non-response slide. “I want you to write yourself a letter giving you permission to let go of your guilt.”

“Do I deserve that?” I retort, not feeling very deserving after the shit I’ve put Sy through this last week.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re a human being, Holly; you make mistakes, and you did what was best for you. Yes, you should have told him, but despite the circumstances, I understand why you didn’t, and I’m willing to bet Sy understands that.” Her words give me a little glimmer of hope. I want to believe this is the case, that Sy’s anger and rage was a reflex of the hard man I know he can be, and that maybe now, after a few days to calm down he realizes why I kept it from him.

“I want to see you in three weeks this time.” She changes the time frame in between appointments and for once, I don’t have the feeling of panic that she just pushed our appointments further apart. “Keep journaling and write that letter,” she reminds me as her final demand. I stand, agreeing to her orders, and when I leave her office, I smile because I feel like, just maybe, it’s all going to be okay. I just hope Sy is willing to let me talk.

***

I drive into the compound around eight o’clock that night. I know I should have called instead, but the thought of him hanging up on me made me drive all the way here to make sure he couldn't do just that. The lights are low, and a few bikes line the courtyard. Shutting off my car, I suck in a deep breath and pray I get through this. Yes, you will. Just walk in there and sort this out. I talk myself into it.

The short walk to the clubhouse feels like a mile, each step bringing me closer to the man I miss so much.

“He’s not here,” a voice stops me as I get closer to the door. I spin and see Jesse resting up against the brick wall, taking in the dark sky.

“He’s not?” I stammer, losing control of my breathing after being frightened.

“No, he’s out,” he tells me, not taking his eyes off the stars.

“How is he?” I bravely ask. I know he’s a guy and a biker at that, but Jesse is Jesse. He wouldn’t be Jesse if he didn’t know everything about his brothers.

“Been better,” he divulges and I feel defeated. “But still better than what he was before you came along. How are you?”

“Same, been better,” I use his words back at him, and he nods but doesn’t respond. “Will he be back tonight?” I need to see him.

“No, he’s out for the night.”

“Okay, thanks, Jesse.” I turn and walk away, conflicted that I’m going home without speaking to him but feeling somewhat relieved I’m getting out of it.

“I’ll tell him you came by,” he calls out, and I almost tell him not to, but then I remember I want him to know that I’m stepping up, and letting him in.

“Thanks, Jesse, I appreciate it.” I give him a soft smile and head back to my car.

“Don’t fuck him over, Holly,” he replies, and I know no response is needed; he’s not looking for a discussion, but giving me a warning. If I didn’t understand this brotherhood code that they live by, I would have been offended. Instead, I smile, knowing Sy and I might just make it through this, together.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Sy

Jesse: Holly just showed up looking for you.

I look down at the text Jesse just sent me, and I feel something settle in me. Relief? If we weren’t in the middle of trying to get a young woman out of Redwick, I’d be on the back of my bike riding to her place and knocking her door down. It’s been a fucked up week to say the least. After losing my shit and watching her fall apart, I couldn’t walk away. I watched her from my bike when she followed me out to the forecourt. I thought she was chasing after me, but when I heard Kadence and Nix call out to her as she climbed into her car, I realized I had unleashed my fury on her in the middle of a panic attack. She’d had the same look in her eyes as she struggled to breathe back at the hospital five months ago. I should have known then when I saw her panic she was hiding something deeper. But that knowledge didn’t stop me, didn’t stop the anger I imparted on her while she stood in the hall trying to fight the darkness from taking her. After Katie, I never thought that I’d feel enmity like that again, but right before my eyes, that feeling came back full force.