Free Fabio's Remorse (Hell Raiders MC Book 5) by Aden Lowe Page A

before that night, even after his mom passed away, I could sit in the overgrown grass and read his letters, and for a few moments, have him again. Sometimes it was so real I could practically feel his fingers running through my hair, or his stubble against my neck. The scent of his dad's pipe tobacco always warned us of his presence, and to keep our hands to ourselves. When I sat there reading, a hint of that smell always teased at my senses, almost letting me go back in time.
    After that night, I wrote him for the last time, and came here one last time to burn all his cards and notes, everything I'd saved from us. It nearly killed me, but I did it, because I had to, for him. The flames had consumed the paper and pressed flowers, photos, everything, in the stone barbecue pit Caleb built with his dad. It seemed like a fitting end to us, even if the smoke drifting up through the grate did torment me with memories. During the warmer months, after his parents went in for the night, we would always sit there and watch the fire until it went out, and plan our future.
    "Hey, lady, you okay?" Bright blue eyes stared up at me out of a tiny face smeared with what I hoped was chocolate.
    I wiped my eyes and tried for a laugh. "Yeah, I'm good. Just remembering things."
    He stood there a moment, studying me, and scuffed his toe in the grass. "My momma do that, too, when her's 'membering. I don't know why you do that, if 'membering makes you cry. I don't like to cry. You like to cry?"
    I couldn't help it. Laughter burst past the tears. "You know what? I think you're a very smart boy."
    He flashed a bright grin. "Yep, I am. Momma say so all the time. I'm gonna be four."
    "Four, hmmm? That's a very wise age." Time to get going before the what-ifs hit and I scared this sweet child. "I have to go now. Thank you for talking me out of remembering."
    "You welcomed." He took off, skipping down the sidewalk.
    I stood there a few seconds longer, while the scent of cherry pipe tobacco seemed to waft just out of reach. Self-preservation forced me to get in the car and drive away before more memories could engulf me. If I lingered, I would start wondering if Caleb would have started smoking his dad's pipe when he got older, and what our children would have looked like.
    Away from the past, I could force myself to wonder, instead, how many women he made love to, or if he'd found someone special yet. Of course he had. Caleb was a good man. Any woman would immediately realize her luck in finding him and latch on tight. I took comfort in the familiar patterns of my grief, and managed to calm myself.
    At home, I used the remote to open and close the garage door, like always, and waited inside my locked car until Sam and Hudson came through from the kitchen to let me know everything was okay. Yes, in some ways, fear kept me prisoner far more effectively than any walls or bars could. But fear kept me safe, too.
    The dogs greeted me with their usual quiet enthusiasm, eager for the treats they knew waited on the shelf by the car door. I tried not to spoil them, but I needed to make sure they always came to me as soon as the garage door closed, so they got the treats every single time. For other training, rewards came only occasionally once they had the behavior down pat. This one thing, though, was too important for them to be unsure of the benefit.
    Inside, after I checked to be sure everything stayed secure in my absence, I sat on the couch for a few minutes, then turned the TV on to try and find some distraction. If I didn't get my mind off the past, and my fears, and soon, I would go to pieces.
    Several times since that night, I had nearly killed myself. It would be so easy to give up, let the terror and bitterness all go, and finally find some peace. Some stubborn streak, or maybe sado-masochism, forced me to continue on, though. For the billionth time, I wondered what kept me going, and how much more I would have to endure.
    The phone call Saturday caused