My Husband and His Brother's Widow: An MC Biker Emotional Cheating and Grovel Romance by REYNA CALDER

It came home on him sweet and floral — a drugstore perfume out of a fat pink bottle. I’d smelled it a hundred times. It had just never come home on my husband before. I married into the Hollow Sons nine years ago, and the rules came fast. You don’t ask a club man where he’s been. You don’t go digging for a wound you can’t close. And you never let the other old ladies catch you flinch. So I didn’t. I poured the beer. I counted the till. I watched the man half this county would lie down in the road for cross my bar like he owned the floor, and I told myself the smell was nothing. Then I worked out whose porch light he’d really been fixing. Cora. His dead brother’s widow. The woman I’d been holding together with my own two hands since the deputy knocked on her door at five in the morning. I take her groceries on Fridays. I sat with her when sitting was the only thing left to do. I loved her like she was mine. And in that garage, down in all the grief I couldn’t reach, she’d been getting the piece of my husband I’d been asking for across our own table for a year. Nobody laid a hand on anybody. That’s what they keep telling me — like that’s the part that should let me sleep. Whit went down alone on the Widowmaker, a road he’d ridden a thousand times and only had to ride wrong once. The club called it an accident and buried him clean. But the longer I look at what my husband and that woman were really mourning out there in the dark, the less their story holds — and the more I think I’m the only one who buried the wrong truth with him. I know what this life does to a wife who makes a scene. I know what it costs to walk and what it costs to stay, and I know a man like mine doesn’t get brought to his knees with an apology. So I’m through with apologies. Read more