Two Sides of Noelle: MC Romance (Demon Rebels MC Book 2) by Rayne O'Gara

anger and hate I refused all contact with him. I thank God every day for the past three years that he kept pushing and refused to give up on me. With nowhere to fall because I was already at rock bottom I listened to his side of the story and accepted his help. Once I learned his side of everything, our little family of two grew stronger than ever at his revelations.
    He was divorcing her and filing for full custody of me after the wool was pulled away from his eyes. I’m not sure if the way she treated me was so very subtle to him or if he just chose to ignore the downward spiral I was in. He also really wasn’t around much. With the hardware store hours, which with him starting it from the ground up was extremely time consuming, and when he was home my mother spoke of girl things. A man like my father and girl things? The man had no clue about that and figured what his wife was up to was perfectly normal. The night she stormed off and died was the day everything became finalized. Which then, new questions arose. Was the crash an accident like we believed or in order to save her reputation, did she end her life purposely in order to not live with her true self exposed?
    Something my father and I will never know, we can only speculate. I personally believe that she would rather die than have her evilness exposed to her social circle when it would have been known all around how she was destroying the only child she had, that she ‘doted on’, for her own ambitions.
    My stomach clenches at the remembrance of her soft voice playing in my head, spouting ugly words, slapping my food away. Pushing me to the breaking point in rehearsals. Making me keep a journal with my daily calorie intake because ‘successful dancers are not fat pigs’. Shoving her own fingers down my throat to expel the contents of my stomach because my calorie count was too high that day.
    Until I didn’t need her to do it anymore. I could do it myself.
    I stand up from my office chair and close the memories up behind a steel trapdoor my therapist had me create deep in my mind. Enough for tonight.
    Mentally exhausted, I give up and pack all my things into my indigo purse before walking into the darkness of the still night. I lock up the store and head to my parked car. Really I could walk home, I only live just a few blocks away, but my dad would hit me with another one of his looks before a safety speech if I tried to walk home in the dark. Less of a headache just to drive and warmer in the winter, so plus side.
    My dashboard clock flashes nine thirty at me, I didn’t realize how late it had become while I was trapped in my thoughts. I want a quick dinner, a bath, and my bed to sleep away this awful day. Four minutes later having pulled into my driveway and entering my small home, I toss my purse onto my entrance table and kick my shoes off before changing into my black sleep shorts and matching tank top. It feels like a black clothing night, no bright colors or cutsie animal characters for me this evening.
    First things first, the wine. I pull down a glass and open the fridge, quickly filling the glass almost to the brim. Next, something to eat. With a fortifying gulp, yes gulp, don’t judge, I peruse my close to bare shelves. Looks like an omelet or mac ‘n’ cheese. Choices, choices.
    Knock, knock, knock .
    My body freezes at the noise. Who in the seventh circle of hell could that possibly be this late at night?
    Maybe Stace texted that she was coming over , I think before checking my phone once I pull it from my purse. No messages or missed calls. Sneaking up to the door on my tiptoes, I glance through the blurry peep hole. My body shivers. Why?
    Why me?
    More knocking, louder this time, has me jump back away from the door. Should I ignore him? Crap no I can’t do that. I have already screwed up an apology to him already. I could just open the door, say sorry, then shut the door. Both my conscience and personal space will be appeased.
    I worry my