Page 50 of Life Or Death

“Those fucking cowboys over there are talking shit about the decorations,” Homeboy says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder.

My eyes move to where he’s pointing, and I see a few of Maddox’s ranch hands standing over by the fence, toying with crepe paper that’s draped over the edge. One of them chuckles, and another points to the stripper pole in the corner of the yard—the one that we used to keep inside the clubhouse but decided to get rid of when we got the new pool table. Nightmare was supposed to take it to the scrapyard, but with everything going on, it wasn’t a priority, so we improvised and hung paper fans from it to make it more aesthetically pleasing. The cowboys laugh, and one walks over to it and starts gyrating on the fucking pole.

Such a classy wedding.

“Oh, yeah,” Dread says. “What are they saying?”

“Well, I heard the one dry humping the pole tell the other one with the plaid shirt that the only thing missing is a piñata.”

“I’ll tell you what’s missing,” Nightmare says, setting his beer on the table. “Fucking pussy. That’s what’s missing. Where the fuck are the saddle bunnies?”

I take a swig of my bourbon. “Persona non grata.”

Nightmare’s eyes narrow into tiny slits. “You’re joking.”

I shake my head and lower the glass from my lips, motioning across the yard to where Mammon stands. “Nope. I learned that when I busted Mammon’s balls for bringing his sister as his date. Apparently, it was a concern of Shadow’s. He didn’t want Della to feel uncomfortable since he fucked half of them.”

Nightmare’s jaw clenches. “How fucking selfish of the bastard. There aren’t even any bridesmaids to catch a blowjob from.”

Dread claps him on the back. “Looks like it’s you and your hand tonight, brother.”

“Fuck this,” Nightmare growls. “I’m going to get more of those cornbread sliders.”

“Wait for me,” Homeboy calls, running after him.

Dread chuckles. “That kid is never getting his colors.”

I take another sip of my bourbon, letting the burn distract me from the shitshow unfolding around me. The sound of tires crunching on gravel draws my attention to the driveway, and I spot a pickup rolling onto the property, the new Fallen Meadows logo emblazoned on the side.

“Jesus, another cowboy,” Dread mutters. “How many of them are there?”

“Too many,” I reply.

I don’t particularly have anything against them. They all seem like a bunch of good guys. I just don’t like being outnumbered.

The truck parks entirely too close to the line of Harleys near the entrance of the clubhouse, and I watch as the driver’s door swings open. A tall guy in a Stetson steps out. He rounds the front of the truck and opens the passenger door, holding out his hand like some fucking gentleman.

Then everything in me stills as my eyes land on Jess.

She’s dressed in a long, flowy purple dress that sways with her movements. Her brown hair is pulled to the side in a braid, tendrils falling to frame her face. She says something to the cowboy, and he tips his hat at her before offering her his arm as he kicks the passenger door closed with his boot.

When they start to walk slowly toward the reception, she lifts her head, and her eyes connect with mine.

“Oh, shit,” Dread mutters. “Did you know she was coming?”

“Do you think she’d be on the arm of another man if I fucking knew she was invited? I haven’t spoken to her in a fucking month.”

That day at the hospital, when she told me to leave, I realized I was totally gone for my wife, and walking away from her was necessary. I needed to cut her out of my life like a surgeon cuts out cancer before it spreads.

It was a struggle at first, but I went from thinking about her twenty-four seven to only letting thoughts of her invade my mind at night, and I drowned them out with a bottle of my favorite bourbon.

Then Tori called to tell me they had discharged her, and I started driving by their apartment every day like a fucking creep, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

I shove the glass against Dread’s chest and start in Jess’s direction.

“Hold on, man,” Dread says, dropping the glass and grabbing the back of my cut. “Think about what you’re about to do. No one knows you’re married to her.”

I shove him off me. “But she fucking knows, and she came here, to my fucking clubhouse, with another man.”