This was not going to be easy.
As Rider entered the bar, it fell into silence. Ruth stretched her hand out and gripped mine. I straightened my shoulders as we followed behind . . . and my heart cracked. Each of the brothers were glaring over at Rider. Words were not necessary; we could read their silent expressions—none of them wanted Rider to be alive.
My breath faltered as the men rose from their seats, folding their arms across their chests, sneers on their faces. My heart shattered apart in pride as Rider hid the devastation I knew he would be feeling and forced his legs to move forward.
He shook his arms from Solomon and Samson’s supportive grips and turned to face them. I was right. This reaction from his former club was killing him inside. The pain in his eyes was obvious.
“I can walk myself.” I had to turn my face away as my husband staggered forward under the hateful glares from the men in the bar. I could not bear the sight of seeing him try to hold on to the pride they had so savagely ripped away.
I heard Ruth suck in a pained breath. Rider had stopped in the center of the room to breathe through his pain. I wanted to go to him, to help him, but Ruth shook her head. “Let him do this,” she whispered almost silently. “He needs to do this himself.”
It went against all my instincts, but I knew she was right. My husband raised his head and started walking to the exit. He kept his face straight forward, never once looking back.
Because we could not. If we were to survive, we had to look solely to the future. He was doing just that, stealing more of my love as he did so.
Rider made it to the door and he stepped outside. Solomon and Samson went straight after him. But I could not. Instead I roved my disappointed gaze over all of the men who had so cruelly stood and intimidated him. But they did not care. I could see it in their blank expressions.
I was unsure if Rider would ever fall back into their favor. Too much bad blood had passed between them. I no longer cared. I was beginning to feel that these men were not worthy of his favor. I did not understand how they could stand by and ignore everything he had done to atone for his sins.
He was worth more than these men were giving him. And yet he took it all. I loved that man. I loved him with a breathless, soul-shattering intensity.
Ruth tugged on my arm for me to move forward. Just as I was about to go, I saw my sisters standing to the back of the bar. Their beautiful faces were conflicted, riddled with uncertainty. But I did not blame them. I knew now the sacrifices you made for the man you loved.
I dipped my head at them. Maddie almost brought tears to my eyes when she lifted her hand and cast me a delicate wave.
I loved them, too. I loved them so much that I would let them go. They were no longer children needing my protection. I too had to move on.
“Bella?” Ruth said. I nodded my head and followed her outside, where two vehicles were waiting for us.
Ruth got into one with Solomon and Samson. Stephen sat in the front of the other. I had been surprised to discover that he could drive, having learned before he joined the commune. I climbed in behind my father.
Rider’s head was resting against the headrest, but his sad eyes were on me. Sudden emotion caused my eyes to prick with tears. I reached for his hand. “I am so proud of you, baby. So very, very proud.”
Rider’s eyes closed. He said nothing. And I did not push it. I would not shatter the fading strength that he was clinging to. I shuffled beside him and laid my head on his shoulder.
I held tightly to my husband as we drove past several empty fields. Stephen stopped the truck in front of a small wooden cabin. It had none of the grandeur and luxury of Mae’s or Lilah’s. It did not even look as well-kept as Maddie and Flame’s.
But my excitement grew nonetheless . . . this was to be our home.
“I’m sorry.” Rider suddenly said.
“Why?” I asked, my eyebrows drawn down.
“This,” he said, pointing at the cabin. “It’s a mess. Run down . . . less than you deserve.”
I met his eyes and shook my head. “No. It is ours. It will become our home. Looks do not matter, remember?” Rider searched my face doubtfully, then a smirk blossomed on his face.
We entered the cabin. It was small and in need of cleaning. But there was a large bed, and a couch. To me, it was a palace.
Ruth dressed the bed, and Rider moved slowly to it. He sat on the side of the bed, while I crouched down and untied his boots. Rider watched my every move.
I love you, I read on his face.
I love you too, I said with mine.
A throat cleared behind us. “We shall leave you alone to settle in,” Stephen said, casting his disappointed eyes around the shabby room.
“Thank you,” I said.
Solomon, Samson and Stephen left the cabin. Ruth came awkwardly to the bed as Rider lay down. He was tired; I could see his eyelids dragging down.
“Do you need me to stay and help you clean?” Ruth asked.
I shook my head. “No, I can do it. This place is not so big.”
Ruth nodded, then nervously approached her son. I moved out of the way, busying myself with the cleaning supplies Ruth had brought us. But I could not help but watch the tentative new relationship between mother and son with a lump in my throat. Rider watched his mother as she rounded the bed to stand by his side.
Ruth ran her hand along the edge of the bed. “Will you be okay here?”
“Yes,” Rider said in his low, fractured voice.
Ruth nodded. “Maybe I could come out to see you most days? If . . . if that is something you would want. It is okay if you do not, but—”
“Yes,” Rider cut in. “I”—he cleared his throat—“I would love that . . . to see you.”
The blinding smile that bloomed on Ruth’s face could light the darkest of skies. “Okay,” she breathed, “then I shall look forward to it.”
Ruth stood awkwardly, and carefully leaned forward to drop a sweet kiss to Rider’s forehead. Rider’s eyes closed at the touch.