by A. J. Logan
“It’s fine. I’ll find him,” Elliot says, walking out in a huff. He had to understand. Please, tell me he understood. That he’s getting help, because if he doesn’t …
“Good job,” my father sneers, hauling me back by my shirt as I grip the corner of the desk. Asher groans in pain so my dad doesn’t miss the opportunity to kick him, sinking his foot into Asher’s side as he lets out a nauseating sound.
“I hate you.” This isn’t going to help my case, but at least he’ll leave my brother alone.
“Oh, princess, I’m just getting started.” His eyes flash with wicked glee. I struggle to maintain eye contact when I see a shadow pass the office doorway. Someone’s here.
I need to distract him. “Why? How? I don’t understand. I really don’t get how you can be so cruel to your own kids.”
“It’s simple. Always take care of you first, even if you have to let them suffocate.”
Elliot charges into the room, knocking my dad to the floor, the gun falling from his grip. I scream, scrambling for the weapon but I can’t find it. They’re tumbling on the floor as Elliot gains the upper hand, slamming his fist into my dad’s face. He pulls back, ready to strike again but my dad gets in a hard blow to the gut. Moving out from under Elliot, he towers above him. Cursing, he swings to plunge his fist into Elliot but halts suddenly as a shot blasts through the room, hitting him square in the back. He struggles to remain upright for a moment before succumbing and falling to his side, gargling curses.
There’s a ringing in my ears but I turn my head to the back of the room, seeing my mom with the pistol pointing in my dad’s direction. She remains in that position as he struggles to breathe. I crawl across the floor to my brother. “Asher. He needs help.”
Elliot kneels beside Asher, pressing his palm against one of the many wounds. “They’re already on the way.”
Minutes later, police officers swarm the house, as we scream for them to help. Finally, medics run into the room, first tending to my brother as they quickly haul him away on a gurney. I follow, climbing into the ambulance, unable to remove my eyes from my brother’s chest, watching as it rises and falls with each breath. “Just keep breathing, please.”
We pull up to the hospital and the medics unload him as I follow their swift lead into the building, through one set of automatic doors until I’m suddenly halted. A nurse blocking my path to my brother. I scream, feeling like no one is hearing me. I need to see him. I can’t see him. I need to make sure he’s breathing.
Just breathe, Victoria. Asher’s voice floats through my mind, his bloodied face looking down at me. Stop crying or Dad will see you. He won’t hurt you. I’ll make sure of it.
I shriek, pushing the image of my brother’s baby face, bruised and battered, out of my mind.
“Victoria!”
My eyes open, scanning the room, I see Elliot. He engulfs me, pulling me against him, and I feel his body tremble, or it might be mine. I can’t tell because I’m shaking so badly.
“Just breathe, Victoria,” he whispers. “He’s going to be okay. He has to be.”
My legs give out. I sink to the floor with Elliot beside me. Hauling me onto his lap, he presses his back against the wall.
“I got you, and I swear to you, I’ll never let you go again.”
The words ring through my head, and I hold onto them, to him. I can’t lose the people I love. I’d suffocate before I’d allow them to do so at my expense.
It’s hours before a doctor comes out of the door the nurse wouldn’t let me go behind. He squats down, patting me on the shoulder, asking if I’m Asher Hastings’s sister. I’ve never been so happy to be called that before and pray I’m called it many more times.
“Yes, I’m his sister. Is he okay?”
“Yes, he lost a lot of blood, but he pulled through surgery just fine. It’ll be a while before he’s awake. Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“She won’t be here for a while,” Elliot says, as the doctor looks to me.
“My dad?”
The doctor gives me a hesitant look before saying, “He didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”
I remain silent as he walks away, before saying, “I’m not.” I’m crying, but not for him. For what I thought he was, what I wanted him to be. “What does that say about me?”
“That you’re free from him and so is Asher and your mom.”
“But my mom—”
“Nathan said she’s at the house being questioned. He has a lawyer there with her and it’s a clear self-defense case. She was protecting her children, like a mother does.”
She had. She’d stopped him, and now he won’t ever hurt any of us again.
I relax against Elliot, enjoying the comfort he provides. I think we’ve finally faced our biggest challenge, and the only thing that’s hopeless now is letting each other go.
Epilogue
Elliot
Four years later
“So, this is the last stop, then we get to do something fun,” I say, attempting to annoy her if only as a distraction.
“You insisted we had to visit today, so stop acting like part of you doesn’t adore the art museum.”
Looping my arm around her, I lean down, whispering in her ear, “I adore you, adoring art.”
“I think it’s more than that. After four years of living with an art major, I think I’m wearing you down.”
“That, I agree with.” Leading her through the museum, I do enjoy her face but can’t wait any longer. “There’s one more I was told we have to look at. It’s by some O’Dilly lady.”
“Sisel O’Day? Just my favorite artist of all-time, but it’s not like I’ve told you that a million times.”
“I thought it sounded familiar.”
“Next museum trip is postponed until your mom is feeling better. We can see the other sights of Paris, but you’re not much fun when it comes to art.”
A huge grin covers my face as I turn her towards me. “I’ll be sure to make you come a really fun way later. But until then, let’s look at the O’Dildo art.”
She playfully jabs at my arms as she says, “Stop calling her that.”
“Okay. Just take a look.” I motion to the image on the wall as she begins to tell me about all the portraits that she loves of O’Day’s before she stops mid-sentence, her eyes looking to me before returning to the portrait.
“It’s titled Proposal in Paris,” I tell her.
Her eyes scan the image, an immaculate sketch of us, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, me down on one knee, presenting her with a ring box, as she looks down at me. It’s time to make life imitate art. Bending down on one knee, I open the same velvet box. The moment she looks at me, every word I had rehearsed leaves my mind. How did I get this lucky?
“Hopeless. The only thing that’s hopeless is me being able to spend my life without you as my wife, by my side, forever and always, because you’re mine and only mine. I had no control over my heart when those gorgeous emerald eyes pierced my soul, and I want to spend the rest of my life lost in them. Victoria Hastings, will you marry me?”
Her eyes fill with tears as her hands stay clasped over her mouth, not saying a word.
“Do you need some time to think about it?”
She laughs, her hands moving from her mouth as she shouts yes and wraps her arms around my neck. I catch her, kissing her, savoring her, knowing that I’ll never let her go because she’s mine, only mine, always and forever.
About the Author
A.J. Logan spends her days with her head in the clouds and her nights with her nose in a book. She’s a hopeless romantic at heart with a weak spot for dark, gritty antiheroes and the fierce, feisty women who bring them to their knees (sometimes literally).
www.ajloganbooks.com
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