Page 137 of Resurfaced Passion

Some might call him pathetic or deranged for everything he’d endured in the last four years, the scraps he’d made do with just to keep his heart ticking.

His brother back home sure thought so. He didn’t understand Reaper’s reasons.

He’d told Bryan plainly. You don’t turn your back on that kind of love.

It didn’t die.

It fucking lived on in Reaper’s chest, pounding away every minute, every second. How the fuck could he leave Paige to her new life, leave her alone, whenhislove hadn’t disappeared?

Only hours since he’d been forced to watch her drive away and he was a miserable bastard. He’d had so many plans for tonight that didn’t end this way.

He sighed and sipped his drink. And then another. It was his only goal, otherwise he’d embarrass himself and Paige by knocking Snake’s door down.

Grinder came up behind and spoke to Preacher. “What’s wrong with our boy?”

“Not sure. I think he might be sniffing glue.”

“Nah, glue sniffers are more animated than that.”

“Who’s a glue sniffer?” Asked Arson.

Another sip. Another refill. He ignored them all.

It was Preacher who bumped Reaper’s shoulder with his own as he hunched over. “You wanna talk about it, bud?”

Did he? Could he after all this time of withholding so much from his buddies?

He didn’t make eye contact, didn’t even look up from the glass he was cradling between two hands. “I think my wife has left me.”

He could have heard a pin drop from fifty paces.

“Say what now?”

“Whose wife?”

“You’ve been boning a married chick?”

“My wife.” Reaper said tonelessly, staring into his drink like it held all his fucking answers.

“You got back with the Mrs?” Asked Preacher. “What about diner girl?”

“Paige is my wife.”

More pins dropping.

Within ten minutes he’d told the boys the whole sorry fucking tale.

“Holy fucking shitballs. This is like one of Cap’s Spanish shows!”

“Man, now I feel fucking weird I tried to hit on your wife, bro.” Arson remarked with a chuckle. Reaper hadn’t forgotten and was tempted to hurl the guy across a room again if he kept on mentioning it. There was no statute of limitation when it came to his possessiveness of his wife.

“Paige knows all this now?”

“Yeah,” he answered Preacher. “She didn’t take it so well.”

“And the fuckhead dad, he’s still around?”

“Probably.”

---