Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
I'm sitting outside Ellie’s parents’ house, trying to work up the nerve to go inside.
She's my wife, but in name only. I truly have no rights to her. I shouldn't even be here, but I can't seem to stay away.
Ellie was my best friend's girl. Dawson and I grew up together. We were complete opposites, but I think that's why we were such good friends. We graduated high school together, joined the Army together, and served together. When we were two weeks away from re-upping, I knew what I was going to do. I had served four years, and I wanted out. I still wanted to serve our country, but I wanted to find other ways to do it. I had been introduced to Walker. He is the founder of the Ghost Team, a group of mercenaries in Whiskey Run, Tennessee. But instead of asking me to join, he had introduced me to the Guardians Motorcycle club. I joined right away while Dawson stayed in the Army. I’ve been with the Guardians MC for two years now, making the move from Texas to Tennessee. The Guardians have become my family, and I’m thankful that I joined, but I still live with regret. Every day I wait for the burden to lighten, but it never does. There are so many what ifs. What if I had stayed in the Army? Would Dawson be alive today? Could I have saved him?
He’s been gone two months, and I miss him like crazy. We may have been apart these last two years, but we were still close.
I get out of the rented car and lean against it. I still remember the first time I met Ellie. She’s beautiful, and I remember thinking how lucky Dawson was to have found her. She’s smart too. She is working on her bachelor’s degree in education. But even though I was jealous of Dawson, I was still happy for him. He was always the player. He had more girlfriends in six months than I’ve had in my lifetime. I thought he’d changed and that he’d finally settled down. But the very first night I met Ellie, I knew he hadn’t. When she wasn’t looking, another woman at the bar we were at gave him her number. I pulled him aside to rip his ass, but he assured me that he wasn’t going to call her. I knew he was lying, and I knew that he was going to end up hurting Ellie.
I should have told her. I wanted to, but she seemed so happy, and since I’d just met her, I knew I couldn’t. It didn’t matter, though, because she found out all of it at his funeral, of all places.
Now here we are. I’m married to my dead best friend’s girlfriend. I don’t know why I did it, but I was here, trying to take care of everyone to delay my own grief, and I asked Ellie to marry me. I said it was for Dawson and that he’d want me to help care for her and for their unborn baby. I must have been convincing, too, because Ellie agreed. All the real reasons I asked her to marry me I pushed down deep inside so I wouldn’t have to think about them. It didn’t matter anyway because Ellie is my wife... on paper, anyway.
Unable to put it off any longer, I stand up and force myself to walk up the driveway and to the front porch. I never did meet her parents. They didn’t come to our wedding. Honestly, I don’t even know if they know we are married or not.
I knock on the door and stand back, both excited and nervous to see Ellie again.
The door opens, and her mother stands there with a cigarette hanging from her mouth. My first thought is I’m surprised she’s smoking in the house. Surely, she knows that’s not good for Ellie or the baby. She’s openly staring at me, and when she doesn’t say anything, only gives me a snide look, I force a smile to my face. “Hi, Mrs. Jenkins. Is Ellie around?”
She takes a drag from the cigarette before pulling it from her mouth. She blows it out. “Nope.”
I cough a little and take a step back. “Do you know when she may be back?”
She shakes her head. “Probably never.”
My hands fist at my side. I’ve been worried ever since I hadn’t been able reach her. “I really need to talk to her. Do you know how I can reach her?”
She shrugs and steps out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. In a low voice, she says, “She’s living over on Second Street. Apartment 110.”
I lower my voice. “Why are you whispering?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Because her dad kicked her out, and I’m not supposed to be talking to her. He wasn’t happy about her getting knocked up.”