Page 53 of Rebellious

“Will do.”

“And tell her I’m filing for legal separation tomorrow.” The words were as hard to say as they were to think but he was glad he’d worked it all out in his head and created a solid plan. Later, he’d lick his wounds in his room at the club. “If she want to call me, she know my fucking number—”

“Mortician—”

“I’m not listening.”

“Don’t file…there are extenuating circumstances that you don’t know about. Bailey doesn’t want you to know.”

“Of course she don’t,” Mort snapped. “She don’t fucking want me. You don’t have to drive that point home. She doing fine herself.”

“Mortician—”

Ignoring Knox, Mortician stormed to the door and walked out into the overcast mid-morning. Hortensia’s climate was nothing like the sunniness of Southern California. Here, there were more cloudy days and precipitation just under half the goddamn year. It had never mattered much before. Rain, sun, wind, or snow barely registered. He’d been content. Now, everything was falling apart and the dreariness underscored that.

The back of his house loomed in front of him. He’d been so lost he hadn’t realized he’d walked from the side of Roxanne’s place where the kitchen entry door was located to their shared lawn with the cobblestoned pathway between the two residences.

“Mortician!”

Pretending not to hear Knox, Mort kept walking.

“Wait, goddamn it.”

As much as he loved Roxanne, Bailey was her daughter. She’d want Mort to stick it out until Bailey made her final decision. That had been fine before he fucking kissed Kendall. He didn’t want to betray Bailey with Kendall or anyone. He didn’t want to think about if they’d been somewhere else when they kissed, where Johnnie couldn’t walk in, he might’ve slept with Kendall.

Bailey meant more to him than that, even with their looming legal separation.

Instead of going into his house as he’d originally intended, Mort veered off at the last minute. If he went inside, he might break down. Everything that once was, and would never be again, was in there.

A hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around. He knew it was Knox. Annoyed with the fucking world, he jerked away. He needed to get back to his room at the club and talk to himself. His problems wasn’t any motherfucker’s fault—they just were. Life happened. Shit changed. He didn’t want to take out his anger and pain on Bailey, Knox, Roxanne, or anyone else. No one deserved it. He didn’t even want to hurt his sisters-in-law and take away their credit cards, no matter how much paying those high balances hurt his soul every month.

“Listen to me, Mortician.”

“I already know you about to tell me not to hurt Bailey that way.”

“Projecting much?”

Mortician glared at the motherfucker.

Heaving in a breath, Knox glanced over his shoulder then met Mort’s gaze. “Walk with me.”

“Knox—”

“Please? I have something to tell you that Bailey asked her mother and me to keep from you. Roxanne doesn’t agree and thinks you should know, but she loves her daughter.”

Fuck everything. As much as he wanted to turn Knox down, Mort couldn’t. He was so afraid to hear whatever it was Bailey wanted kept from him. Maybe she’d started an affair with that fuckhead she’d been in practice with. Or, maybe, she’d already filed for divorce.

“I can see your wheels spinning,” Knox said. “If it helps, your wife loves you.”

She had a fucking fine way of showing it, but fuck, those words did help. Mort turned and started walking back to the club, leaving Knox to decide if he’d follow.

Early on a Sunday morning, the clubhouse was almost deserted with only Kenny behind the bar and Potter on a stool, eating breakfast.

They both paused and looked at Mort expectantly, ready to abandon their tasks to serve him.

“Nothing for me,” Mort said, heading to Prez’s table.

“Me neither,” Knox responded, taking his usual seat while Mort did the same. Even in Prez’s absence, order needed to be respected. “What I’m telling you goes in one ear and out the other. Understand me?”