Making the Cut (Sons of Templar MC #1)(6)

I thought back to when Ian had persuaded me to tell me parents about my attack.

“I love you so much kid, and I’ll always be here for you and respect your decisions, but you need to tell Mum and Dad about what happened, you know you do, I know it will be hard but you gotta do it.”

Like always, I listened to my brother’s advice, and rang my parents.

After a long, and tearful, (on both sides) conversation, my parents took the first flight over, helping me recover, both physically and mentally. And after finding my little town, I immediately rang them and told them about my desire to move there and open my own store. Hearing the passion and happiness in my voice, things which had been absent for a while, my parents gave me the money to buy the store and move to Amber. My family was wealthy, but my brother and I were always brought up to work hard for what we wanted and I was grateful for that. We got a portion of our trust fund when we turned eighteen, and I used mine to move to the States and get myself an apartment on the Upper East Side, my ultimate dream after watching ‘Gossip Girl’, shallow I know but I was young and had my dreams. After working my way up to Senior Buyer position, I earned decent money, not to mention I still had a hefty portion of my trust fund. But my parents were adamant to help me out. I guess since they had no control over my nightmares, my recovery or my scars, they wanted to help me get something that might get me back to my old self. Of course, after Amy found out about my plans, even though she was a Manhattenite through and through, and her family was a lot wealthier than mine, she decided that she wasn’t letting me go alone.

“You’re not going to the other side of the country to f*ck knows where, and opening up a shop without your best girl helping you out.” She had said once I told her about the space I brought. So that brought me back to now, taking the long drive across country to my new home, and my new life.





Chapter 2


I arrived in Amber, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing I had made the right decision. I had taken a week to do the 44 hour drive. I had done all the necessities when on a road trip, listened to power ballads, singing along at the top of my lungs, stopping at random sights along the way, and enjoyed the solitude. I drove past where my store would be and a smile lit up my face, nestled between a cute little coffee shop and a bookstore, it was perfect. The three loves of my life within a stones throw of each other, coffee, fashion and books. It sent a thrill through me to see my little sign with the word ‘Phoenix’ scrawled across it.

I continued to mine and Amy’s new home, she had decided that she would fly the next day. She had told me she wasn’t spending days driving the country when she could “drink champagne and read Vogue on her fathers jet”. Yeah they were loaded. Amy had picked our house, and after a huge argument, I brought it, but only if she was in charge of decorating and the expenses that went with it. So after spending the last few weeks on the phone with decorators and closing her computer screen every time I walked past, I was itching to see it.



I pulled up the driveway and took a moment to take in our beautiful new house. On the end of a sleepy little street, slightly separated from the rest of the houses, was a beautiful little restored Victorian. It was three stories high, with dove grey weatherboard. A stone path led up some steps to the second story, which had a huge porch wrapping around it. Another path led to French doors with housed bottom story basement. The third story had a huge balcony jutting over the porch, more French doors opening to that. That was my room, Amy’s was at the back, her balcony jutting onto the back yard and pool. I had to toss up between this and a smaller house by the sea, this one appealed to me more. I jumped out of my car and gave an excited little squeal. I glanced around, glad I was alone, the last thing I wanted was my neighbors thinking I was a crazy person. I decided to forgo unpacking for now, itching to see the house.

My heels clicked on the stones of our walkway. Even the porch was amazing. A beautiful porch swing that looked like it could double as a bed was on my left, a wicker table and chairs to my right. When I got inside I looked around and my breath left me. The walls were white the floors a beautiful polished wood. A white table with a huge vase full of pink orchids sat in front of me. Slightly to the right was the staircase, ahead of me, the doors to the dining room and the kitchen. I continued into the house on unsteady feet, into the beautiful living room with cozy white couches and chairs are centered around a coffee table. Patterned throws and pillows added a touch of class and vibrancy. The coffee table was stunning, it looked like a giant silver serving platter with dark wooden legs. A fresh vase of flowers and some candles sat atop it. A white glass cabinet sat in the corner, a mish mash of photo frames, books and bowls inside. Framed artwork surrounded the walls, in simple white frames, I knew by looking at them they were by some seriously famous artists.

I wandered around the rest of the house in a sort of dream, barely taking in the beautiful black marble kitchen, or the magnificent dining room. I climbed the stairs and opened the door to my room. It was my dream room. A huge, four-poster vintage bed sat in the middle of the room with a white frame and delicate designs spinning around the legs. I ran my hand along the carved wood. Two white side tables sat on either side with glass lamps sitting on top. I spied a beautiful old dressing table in the corner with an array of perfume bottles and vintage hairbrushes artfully displayed on it. I walked over and sat on the stool, running my fingers of the brushes and smiled at the family photo sitting in a silver frame beside the brushes. It was one of my favorites. Taken just before I left for New York and when Ian had been home.