Page 65 of Never Wed an Outlaw

Nothing worse than the people I loved becoming a distant memory, and the man I adored fading day by day, until it became a struggle to remember his face.

I'd made a sick sort of peace with losing him. But losing his memory, his love, the way he held me and stroked me to sleep during those glorious months when we'd shared a single bed...

They had to go. They had to fade. They had to leave ahole in my heart as big as a grave because if I didn't let go, if I didn't hold onto my own sanity, then nothing would keep the people I loved safe.

Three Months Later

I hadn't cried sohard since my first night away from Dusty. Some days, it just hit me, like being cooped up in this lodge, watching the big, soft flakes rolling down from the mountains.

I'd missed Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Dusty's birthday, and who the hell knew how many precious moments with Lucy. Being stuck in this room with a new laptop, a fake identity, and a lot of cheap freelance work humbled and hurt me like a dozen angry fists coming down.

I was somewhere in Montana, careful to avoid the little towns where the Grizzlies MC had a presence. Dust would've told his friends in their ally club to keep an eye out for me by now, and I wouldn't risk getting caught.

The morning sickness made it even harder. Fourteen weeks pregnant, give or take. Every day my body changed a little more like a grim reminder of everything I'd abandoned, everything Ihadto leave behind.

None was worse than his ring, though.

Once, I made it about forty-eight hours, burying it in my suitcase under my clothes, before the empty space on my finger became a steady, burning torture.

Couldn't sleep that night until it was back in its rightful place. Even then, the empty spot in the bed tormented me, as it did most nights.

I second guessed myself again, dozens of times. Had I really done the right thing?

Thinking about the brutal possibilities if I hadn't skipped town, everything that stillmighthappen if I ever came back, told meyes.

The brain does strange things when it's under constant siege. I thought about the old Edgar Allan Poe Story, “The Pit and the Pendulum,” where a man moved between different tortures until they drove him insane.

My heart knew his agony. My womb knew his pain. My soul ached and burned for my man, my family, my home, everything I've given up.

And now, I had one more innocent bystander to worry about, ever since I'd taken the test about a month ago, and seen the results staring me in the face.

This baby wasn't stopping for anything. The tiny life inside me didn't care about danger, guilt, or death. It only shared my heartbeat and will to survive. It deserved a better chance than the one I'd given myself, before everything fell apart.

I couldn't linger like this in limbo, indefinitely. There was one chance to save my child, even though it would rip my heart's remnants into even smaller pieces.

I'd already put distance between me and the old life, but I needed more. I had to keep going west, zigzagging along the route I planned, until I hit the coast. Just a few moremonths, and I'd have enough cash to leave. I didn't dare tap into my old credit cards or bank accounts since the first week I'd left Tennessee.

That was just asking for the club or, worse, the Sicilians, to find a loose end leading them straight to me.

I'd effectively surrendered everything I ever worked for. The bitter irony wasn't lost on me.

So, I'd cry a little harder, remembering the man whose ring still brought me bitter comfort, who'd given me a piece of him forever, no matter where I wound up on this ridiculous planet.

I'd start over. Raise our baby with a longing in my heart and tears in my eyes, but I'd never, ever look back.

I wasn't Hannah Grayson, or even Hannah Davis anymore. I was Kerry Simons – the name on my fake license and attached to my new accounts. Hardworking consultant, seemingly normal, soon-to-be single mother.

She'd live her life secretly protecting everyone I cared about. I'd go on hating the bitch for her lies, her mistakes, and her delusions.

12

Halved (Dust)

Four Months Later

Losing a man's wife fucked him up. I drank when I wasn't on the hunt like the world's meanest hound, pouring over every damned clue I could, so fuckin' dogged and determined I gave Bingo a run for his money.

Booze didn't stop the dreams anymore. Neither did the optimistic words from my brothers, or Ma, who told me every day I'd be an idiot to give up.

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