Page 42 of Where We Promise

A week passed where Wanda smiled and acted like she’d heard nothing.

One time she’d even received a phone call while I was in the club kitchen and she’d glanced at me and excused herself. I followed close enough to hear she was talking to Pen.

By the second week, I began to accept that she’d not write me back. Sending letters was stupid, no one did it anymore…why hadn’t I just texted her instead? Wanda could have given me her number and trusted that I wouldn’t abuse it, but no. I had to write an archaic letter, hoping she’d read it and actually have the time to write one back.

That day, when I arrived home, my dad was doing particularly shitty and my mood sucked, so much so I considered going to the stupid fight ring Luke was a part of.

But then I got to my room, and there it was. A pristine, white envelope with my name on it. I ripped into it so fast, I thought I might ruin the actual letter inside.

Dear Jamie,

Hi. Wow, this is slightly awkward, but I got your letter. And it really shocked me that you actually wrote it…mom told me you’d stopped in and asked about me. I guess I’m not sure how to feel about that, but after arguing with myself about writing you back, I finally just decided, what the hell. What could it hurt?

So here you go, Jameson King. I miss you. Not sure how else to say that, but I do. I hope you can forgive me for graduating early, and then leaving. I took your advice…

For some reason, I was hoping you’d be proud of me, even though I still sort of hate you. I moved to a tiny town outside of DC. I like it, it’s busy and the city has certainly impacted all the outlier suburbs with how fast paced and hard people are, but I like it. I started going to a photography school. Okay, that’s not true. I’m working a full-time job as a receptionist while taking night classes at the local community college, but it’s still fun.

I’m enjoying life.

I’m free of the club, and I’m done pining after people who don’t want me. Feels good to be free.

How’s your dad and mom doing? Luke mentioned things were pretty rough. My mom doesn’t really tell me much, but I know everyone must be so worried. I’m sending you a virtual hug, and all the prayers. No one ever knew this, but I like to make wishes with wildflowers. I press them into my journal and let them dry there as a reminder of my wish. I’ve done so many for your dad. He’s a good man, and we need him here.

I enjoyed hearing from you, Jamie. Please write to me again…I’m even leaving a return address, so you don’t have to go through my mom.

- Pen.

PS- Did you know ravens can live anywhere? I sort of love that.

I reread the letter three times, trying to ignore the fact that she’d already been in contact with Luke. I hated that I’d upset her so much that we weren’t even friends anymore. The initial reaction in my chest was to just ignore her letter, and let the past dim into dust. But each day I didn’t write her back felt like a fire was scorching my lungs from the inside out.

So I wrote, and the fire would ease.

Only to return if too much time had passed.

But by the second week, another letter arrived and somehow, someway, we seemed to fall back into place.

Each and every letter was a glimpse into her life, and with each and every letter, she’d lightly mention the fact that I wasn’t the only person from home she was talking to…and I wasn’t sure what to do with that.

TWELVE

JAMESON

PRESENT DAY

This meeting was a clusterfuck.

I knew it was going to be the second Killian had texted to have me bring five of my men and meet at some abandoned gas station. Several Stone Riders glared as they sat atop their bikes, while I knew my men were glaring right back…and the cherry on the shit cake was that apparently Killian had invited a third club.

“The fuck are the Death Raiders doing here?” Thomas, one of my men, grumbled, leaning back in his seat as if he were ready to get the hell out of dodge. His glare was fixed on the approaching group, as ten Death Raiders pulled to a stop, completing our half circle of bikes. The moon was pale and heavy in the sky, the December air was cold against our faces but manageable with our riding leathers.

My gaze narrowed on the lead bike, knowing it was Silas and feeling agitated over seeing him. Our last encounter was still a flicker in the back of my mind. While I had hoped to piss him off, he’d ended up getting under my skin. So much so that I had to resist trying to taunt him into a fight just so I could throw my fist into his face.

“Silas, you’re late.” Killian spoke into the clearing after all the bikes shut off.

I lifted my chin toward Killian and Wes. “Care to explain what the hell is going on?”

Silas laughed, shaking his head. Out here in the dark, his eyes caught the glare of the moon, making them look unnatural…as if he’d just slipped up through a shadow and was only here to reap souls.