by Shade, S. M.
My glare has no effect on her satisfied little smirk. “Don’t.”
Quietly, she finishes making the cup of coffee I started, then makes one for herself.
I’ve been mulling over a decision for a couple of days and the realization that I’m not the only one uncomfortable here has made up my mind. “I’m going to have a house built somewhere more isolated.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You want to move? We just got home.”
“I want Hatch to be able to play outside without a constant swarm of security around him. I heard from the lawyer yesterday. He said it could take a year or more for that bitch to go to trial. This isn’t going to be over quickly, and we’re going to make headlines and get mobbed every time something new pops up.”
“Do you want to move out of state?”
Kneeling, I carefully inspect the floor for scraps of glass I may have missed. “No, the guys are here, the label and everything. I wanted out of the city, but the suburbs weren’t a good choice. We wouldn’t have to go far to find a more rural area. It’s Indiana.”
Dani snorts. “I never imagined you surrounded by cornfields.”
“Fuck.” She grins when I run my hand across my jaw. “Neither did I.”
* * *
We fall into a routine over the next few weeks. Dani still handles some things as my assistant but since most of my time is being spent in the studio working on the new album, there isn’t as much for her to do. Naomi has Caden attached to her leg and she protests any offer from Dani for a day off or time to herself. It’s left Dani a little restless and she’s been spending more time with Clara, Brysen’s wife.
With security in tow, Naomi takes Caden out a couple of times a week, usually to the park, or an indoor playground nearby. I’m civil when I speak to her, but I try to avoid it when I can. Just a few weeks ago, I was determined to hate her forever, but watching her with Hatch makes it difficult.
Sometimes, when she smiles or when I see a tiny bit of her old personality coming back, I have to remind myself she can’t be trusted. My initial instinct not to get involved with her was right. She’s an employee. Hired for Hatch’s benefit. That’s it.
Her deception was a vital reminder why I don’t get involved with anyone. I won’t be ruled by emotions. I’ve seen what feelings do to people, the end result. Love doesn’t just fade and wither. It rots. It infects everything around you. Everything you see and hear reminds you of what you had and what’s now missing.
Love is how I destroyed them.
One dead and one gone.
It won’t happen again. This is my life. Hatch and my music. They’re all I need.
Hatch seems to be back to his normal happy self, and the relief of knowing that lifts the stack of bricks from my chest. He’s okay. The people responsible are locked up. There’s an end in sight to all the madness. Even the paparazzi is starting to lose interest a little and the crowd on my street isn’t half of what it was just a week ago.
Regardless, I still have a realtor looking for land outside the city.
The album is coming along better than we could’ve hoped. We’ve come to an agreement on what songs to include and which to release as singles. The main disagreements have come over the title of the album and the lead single.
“It makes the most sense, man,” Elliot argues while we’re all together at the studio. “Look at the lyrics. The songs might range from happy and upbeat to moody and dark, but the lyrics paint a picture.”
“We’re not putting out a concept album,” I gripe.
“No, but a theme runs through the songs and you know it,” Jude says. “It’s some of your best writing. Don’t back down on it now.”
“Ties that Bind,” I mumble. “Fuck.”
“It’s the perfect title for the album,” Brysen agrees.
I’m outvoted. I sure as hell didn’t set out to make an album about a dysfunctional family, but with everything that’s happened, it turned out that way. Most of the lyrics are subtle enough for the average person not to notice, but these guys know me.
Art reflects life and my life has been full of family shit lately. There are lyrics that refer to domestic violence and to raising my son. And of course, Breathes the World, the song I wrote after that last night with Naomi, the one they want to use as the lead single.
Which means I get to play it on every damn radio and TV show for months to promote the album. It’s bad enough I can’t get her out of my head lately, now she’s mired in my music too. Invading the only way I know to turn off the static and stress.
“The album art better be dark,” I warn, finally relenting.
My phone buzzes with a call from Dani, and I step out into the hall where I can hear better to answer. “Ax.”
Every muscle in my body clenches at the sound of her voice. Something is wrong. “Hatch,” I bark. “Is Hatch okay?”
“He’s fine, he’s with Naomi. It’s Dad.”
Thank fuck. “Whatever it is, I’m not coming. I don’t give a shit.”
“He’s dead, you asshole!” she shouts and disconnects the call.
What? Stunned is all I can feel. Dead? The old man is actually dead? I step into an empty breakroom and sit down, a thousand thoughts running through my head. Part of me must’ve thought he couldn’t really die, no matter how much I used to hope for it when I was young. It takes me a moment to recognize the feeling rushing over me.
Relief. Even after years away from him, it’s always seemed like he could reach out and fuck me up. The nightmares. He’s in so many of the nightmares, laughing at me, reminding me. Now that it feels like someone has removed a heavy leaden blanket from around me for the first time since I was a kid, maybe they’ll stop.
Dani.
Freedom may be what I feel in this moment, but it isn’t the same for her. How she could keep caring about him is something I will never understand, but I heard the pain in her voice. My attempt to call her back goes unanswered, and I hesitate a moment before texting Naomi. It’s not something I usually do anymore.
Me: Is Dani with you?
Naomi: Yes, she just got here. She told me. I’m so sorry.
Me: Tell her to stay there. I’m on my way.
It takes me a moment to find Milo and explain what’s going on, but then I’m out the door. I’m glad to see almost no paparazzi when we reach my place, and since there’s never been mention of my father in the press or anything, nothing that has ever linked us, I doubt this will rile them up or draw any more attention. Especially because I’m not holding a memorial or a funeral. They can cremate him and toss him wherever the fuck they want.
Dani and Naomi sit on the couch. Caden plays on Dani’s lap while Naomi holds her hand. She looks up at me with red rimmed eyes. “The nursing home called about an hour ago. They said it was a heart attack. He went in his sleep. The coroner wanted to know what funeral home we were using, and I have no idea about any of that. Didn’t he have a will? You looked into that when you put him in the home, right?”
“He does have a will. Unless he’s changed it since I last saw it, he left the house to you—the one that’s rented out right now—plus the cabin up north.” Considering he’s been in a home for a few years, this should be an easy process. There’s no estate sale needed since there isn’t much estate to speak of, and no one but Dani and I to claim it anyway. She’s welcome to it. “You don’t need to worry about any of this, Dani. I’ll handle it. If you don’t want the house, we can sell it. Same for the cabin. A funeral home isn’t necessary. I’ll contact the coroner and have him sent to the crematorium.”
The astonishment reflected on her face melts into outrage and she moves Caden off of her lap to get to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why not just toss him in the dumpster? Of course, we’re giving him a funeral!”
Naomi glances between us, then quietly picks up Caden and takes him out of the room. “I told you before, I’m done with him. He doesn’t deserve anything further from me and he won’t get it.”
&n
bsp; “Even dead, you still hate him,” she scoffs, shaking her head.
“No more than he hated me.”
“He wanted to see you. He wanted to see Caden. He asked every time I visited.”
My hands run through my hair. “Jesus, Dani, he was a sadistic asshole. You know that!”
Her lips press together and her chest heaves under a deep breath. “At least he stayed. He raised us.”
Dani has never said she blames me for Mom leaving, though I know she knows it was my fault. She’s never thrown it in my face. “He raised us to have people to control. Lives to play with.”
Tears spill over and she takes a step back when I approach her. “I can’t believe you! Fine, Ax, do what you always do. Pretend you don’t care. Act like none of this means anything to you. I’ll arrange his funeral. You can stay here and know you got the last shot in on him.”
Her footsteps echo down the hallway and I hear her making a call just before she slams her door.
Fuck. I could’ve handled that better. I hate it that she’s so upset, but I won’t be pulled into this. He doesn’t deserve it. If she wants to waste her time and effort on him, that’s up to her.
A copy of his will and his life insurance policy—more than enough to bury him with—are in a file in my desk, and I retrieve them. I can hear her on her phone in her room for the next hour while I make the necessary calls to the lawyer who created his will, and the insurance company.
By the time I emerge from my room, she’s in the living room with Caden on her lap, reading to him. She’s calm as I present her with the paperwork. “You’ll need death certificates from the coroner for the insurance, but these should be enough for the funeral home. They’ll pay out to them, then to you with what’s left over.”
A quiet nod is all I think I’m going to get until she looks up at me. “I’m going to spend the night with Clara and Brysen. I’d like to take Caden with me. He can play with their baby.” She runs a hand over his blond head. “He’s a comfort.”
I’m not thrilled with the idea. Caden hasn’t been away from me since he was rescued, but I’ve known Brysen and Clara forever. They live in a safe place. They aren’t targeted by paparazzi. “Take one of the security guys with you.”
Once she leaves with Caden, I retreat to my music room to work on a few things. I’m not letting that asshole or his death take up any space in my head.
I’m not going to think about it.
Chapter Eight
Naomi
Dani hugs me after I walk her and Caden out to the car. “Keep an eye on Axton, please. He acts like he doesn’t care, but…”
“I’ll stick close to him. I promise.”
“Bye bye!” Caden screeches and Dani chuckles. “His majesty is ready to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
They pull out of the driveway, and I take a moment before heading back inside. Keep an eye on him. Right.
He’s holed up in his music room when I get back inside, and I give him some time. I’m sure he needs to be alone to process the horrible news he just received. Two hours of silence sounds so odd and ominous when the house is always bustling with noise. With music and life. Fully expecting him to tell me to fuck off, I tap on his music room door.
“What?” he calls.
This is one room where I always feel out of place, maybe because I never have any reason to be in here. I’m barely spared a glance when I enter and shut the door behind me. “You did the right thing, letting Dani take Caden.”
The bang of the whiskey bottle as he places it on the table is followed by a snort. “Thank you, Naomi. You know your approval is my top priority in all decisions.”
If he isn’t drunk, he’s well on his way. His sarcastic snipe rolls off of me. This isn’t about me at all. He’s hurting. He can push me away all he wants, but I meant what I told Dani about sticking by him tonight.
I take a seat beside him on the couch, folding my legs beneath me.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” There’s more curiosity than vitriol in his tone. Another large swallow of whiskey follows his question.
“Just sitting here.”
Wind roars around the house and the light through the windows fades fast, darkening his eyes to the color of a deep forest as he stares at me. “You aren’t afraid of me. Never have been.”
It’s not exactly true. Afraid of his temper or his hateful words? No. My fears around him are much deeper. I don’t want to love someone who will never feel the same. “Do you want me to be?”
His hand runs through his hair, shoving it to one side of his head. “It’d be fucking easier,” he mumbles.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
His laugh is bitter as he takes another drink. “The hell you are. You aren’t sorry. You aren’t very smart either or you’d be long gone.”
The last two words are stretched out, by the alcohol or the emotions it’s setting loose, I’m not sure which. This is the most he’s talked to me unless the conversation has been about Caden.
It’s growing darker by the minute, but neither of us move to turn on the light. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Silence hangs around us cut only by the howl of the wind that lends a melancholy backdrop to the dismal situation. “Axton,” I murmur, when he takes another drink. He’s going hard on the whiskey and it won’t lead to anything good. “That isn’t going to help.”
“Don’t need help. I’m fine. He’s dead. I’ve been waiting a long fucking time to say that. The bastard is actually dead.”
Turning to face him, I sit sideways, leaning my shoulder against the back of the couch cushions. “Do you want to talk about him?”
The words barely leave my lips before he snaps, “No.”
“Okay.” There’s only one other thing I know might help him. Maybe distract him from the quickly depleting bottle. “Can we put some music on?”
It takes a moment of fumbling with his phone, but he manages to cast to the speakers and choose a playlist. At least he isn’t trying to get rid of me. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he doesn’t want to be alone.
His head propped on the headrest, he closes his eyes as a powerful blues riff pushes back the stillness. A lot of the music he creates is influenced by blues and jazz, so I’m not surprised it’s what he chose tonight.
The bottle sits tucked between his legs and he takes an occasional drink. The only light in the room now bleeds between the curtains from the outdoor security lights. It casts a gray hue over the room, illuminating our surroundings just enough to allow us to see.
Eyes shut, he raises the volume of the music and I watch as a range of expressions cross his face. As one song slips into the next, he follows it into his head, into his own little world. I hope there’s less pain there.
Music is his escape, and I may not feel it to the extent that he does—live it like he does—but I understand. Like most people, I discovered the magic woven by music as a teenager. It’s amazing, the power it has over us, to soothe or excite. A familiar song can be a friend in the darkness, a caress in the absence of touch. It floods the empty spaces.
That’s what it’s doing for him now, letting him feel. Letting him remember.
Another song ends, he polishes off the bottle, and his words slur when he says, “He always hated me.”
I’m met with no argument when I reach to push the button on his phone, lowering the volume of the music just enough to hear him better.
“It got worse after Mom left, but he hated me before. Before he had a good reason to. I remember that. One of my earliest memories was the feeling of that hate when he looked at me, like needles dragged across my skin.”
His voice cracks and the pain radiating from him is palpable. He doesn’t object when I lean over and pluck the empty bottle from his lap to set it aside before it gets busted. “There’s never a good reason to hate your child. It wasn’t anything you did.” Even before, when we were ge
tting close, he never talked about his dad. I overheard enough between him and Dani to know he was abusive, but watching what he’s going through now, I learn I’m capable of despising a person I’ve never met.
“He was always a bastard,” he continues like he didn’t hear me. “He treated Mom like shit, hit her when she didn’t follow his orders fast enough. Or when she tried to stop him from beating me. Dani…she was the only one who escaped his hate then. Maybe because she was the baby. Even when we got older, he controlled her, but saved the abuse for me. She was too young to remember him hitting Mom and she only saw him beat me once I deserved it. Maybe that’s why she can’t hate him, can’t see who he is…was.”
I’m startled for a moment at the agonized laugh that follows. “Was. He’s dead. Part of me still can’t believe it.”
Not once since I’ve returned have I touched Axton, but boundaries be damned. I take his hand, and he turns to regard me like he’s just remembered I’m there. His fingers tighten in mine. “You never deserved that.”
His words grow thick as the alcohol takes over. “I did. She left us because of me. Left Dad and Dani too. To get away from me.”
“No, Axton…”
“Yes!” His other hand slaps down on the arm of the couch. “I loved her too much. Took up all her time. I was too clingy and needy, and she couldn’t stand it. She left. Dad told me she would never come back and he was right. He said I drove her away. I destroyed our family, and he was right.”
God, the words pouring out of him rip me open, but it explains so much. His hesitation to get close to anyone, love anyone, even his own son in the beginning. “No,” I choke out around the lump in my throat. “Could Caden ever make you leave by loving you too much? You didn’t drive her away, your dad did. His abuse.”
My words don’t seem to have any impact as he continues, “He called me the destroyer, told me she wouldn’t be the only one I’d ruin. He was right.”
Axton’s hand in mine starts to go slack. “I knew. From the moment I opened that door and saw, I knew he was right. Now, I can’t stop opening it every time I close my eyes.”
