Page 4 of Lore
If someone told me that I’d be repeating history and would have married a man exactly like my own father, I would have laughed in their face. But here I am with a packed suitcase, a black eye, and a long-time broken heart.
I hear the rumble of a motorcycle and peek through the curtain at a big black Harley in my driveway.
The man dismounts the bike and removes his helmet, revealing a head of long, dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He’s tall, and his broad shoulders are covered with a red and black checkered flannel shirt, with one of those leather vests over it.
Yeah, I’d heard that Hunter had become a biker.
But when he turns around and I see his face, my breath hitches. Yeah, the years have been kind to Hunter. He’s cut, has a beard, and is covered in ink. His jeans-clad muscular thighs move quickly as he rushes to my front door, knocking quietly. I always thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and that has not changed.
“Atiana?” he calls out.
I let go of the curtain and open the front door, and his violet eyes connect with mine.
“Butterfly,” he rasps, scanning my face. I haven’t heard that nickname in seven years, and my heart races as memories of us hit me like a fucking truck.
I know the moment he sees my bruises because he flinches. “Who?” he growls, his jaw tensing. “Who did this to you?”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. “I need to get out of here before he comes back.”
Hunter nods and lifts his hand to gently cup my face, slightly hesitating before his finger meets my skin. His gaze scans over my bruises once more, and a muscle works in his jaw. “Get your things. My club brothers are close behind me in our truck.”
“Mama? Is it time to go?” Rider calls out, and my eyes slam shut as I feel him walk around me.
I know exactly what Hunter is going to see when he looks at Rider.
I’ve thought about this moment for such a long time, wondering if I did the right thing all those years ago.
Questioning myself.
Questioning everything.
I suppose the thing I questioned most, though, was Hunter, and whether he’d ever become a family man.
“Atiana?” he whispers in a raspy tone, and I open my eyes to see him looking down at Rider like he’s seeing a ghost. “What the fuck?”
Rider has Hunter’s exact face.
But it’s those violet eyes that really give it away.
Those rare, stunning, amethyst-like eyes. I haven’t seen anyone else with eyes like that.
“About-fucking-time,” Rider states, standing in front of me and crossing his little arms over his chest.
“Rider,” I whisper-yell. “We don’t swear.”
“You know what?” Hunter replies, looking up at me with anger and pain before he can mask it. His throat works as he swallows thickly. “You’re not fucking wrong.”
“Hunter—”
He turns away from us, and I know he’s composing himself.
Fuck.
I feel sick to my stomach right now.
At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing for both of them. For all of us. But now I’m about to see the carnage my decisions have left behind.
The consequences of my actions.
