by Ace Gray
“Sometimes you can laugh just because you are happy.” She let her fingertips graze down my forearm.
“And are you? Happy?”
“In your arms? Always.”
I bent down and pressed my lips to her shoulder.
“Are you?” she asked. With her, the answer was yes. Unequivocally. But I hesitated long enough that she twisted in my arms. I winced when I slid out of her. “Wait, you didn’t answer me. You were worried earlier. That they wouldn’t go to jail,” she remembered. “You kissed me and I forgot my name completely.”
“I’d be happy to do it again.” I nudged my hips against her and bent to steal her lips.
She held me at arm’s length.
“There’s another reason why you came, why you were at the courthouse.” Her voice ticked up.
I reached up and smoothed her hair from her face. “I am happy with you. Happy doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“But…?”
“It’s not finished,” I said softly. “I have one card left to play.”
“Well my, my, my. What do we have here?” Priest stood as Mercy and I walked in. “You brought a treat.”
“I brought my girl,” I emphasized possession, “to see some old friends.”
“You only have one friend here.” He smiled as he pointed at my scar. Mercy grabbed my hand under the table.
“Thank you for taking care of him.” She found her voice.
“Did I?” he mused, his finger and thumb outlining his chin.
“You taught me well.” I made sure that he read between the layers of my words.
Priest leaned back and laughed. “Oh, kid.” He shoved his hands through his oily hair. “You have a story to tell,” he said matter of factly.
“Some things are better left unsaid.” My eyes flitted back toward the cells. The cells that I knew held Danger, Diego, and Rousse. “Half the fun is piecing the story together.”
“We did have a pretty good time with that last time, didn’t we?”
“That story came to an end. A steely one.”
“Oh really?” He leaned back toward us and templed his fingers together in front of his face.
“Yeah, just a few days ago.”
Priest smiled at first, the wicked that he’d taught me churning behind his eyes. But then he started laughing, wild and dark. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips and I chanced a glance over at Mercy. She watched with equal bits amusement and terror showing in her eyes.
“So is this you asking me for help?” His boisterous laugh settled down. “Again?”
I smiled my wicked smile, the one that curled up the corners of my lips into evil shapes. One that felt like the missing piece to a complicated but utterly satisfying puzzle. I reached my arm around Mercy and twisted to kiss her shoulder, feeling that my old self and my new had finally found a happily ever after. Or maybe a new beginning…
“No, this is a heads up that things are just about to get interesting.”
Ten Years Later…
I don’t think anyone wants to drive away from prison in an orange Hyundai Elantra, but such was life. I’d learned penance and patience locked behind those bars. That was why I only had one mission today.
Find Dantè Rogue.
Find Dantè Rogue and apologize.
I didn’t blame him for what he’d done to me. Not when he burned me. Not when he helped convict me. Not for those moments behind bars that I was fairly certain were his doing. Not after what I’d done to him.
The breeze blew in my shag but I didn’t let myself sip in the fresh air. I didn’t relish the warmth of the sun on the back of my neck, or how it was both quieter and more amplified out here. Freedom was relative. And I wasn’t free. Not yet.
I cracked my knuckles as I reached for the driver’s side door and blew out a deep breath. The scars I’d gotten the last time I drove were highlighted in the stark light of day. I twisted and turned my hand, letting the shadows unmarred by razor wire skate across my skin. They didn’t hurt anymore, well the skin anyway.
But they made me hesitate as I opened the door; this was going to take a long time to heal.
“This isn’t a car. This is a Hyundai,” I said to my reflection as I settled into the driver’s seat. “You can drive a Hyundai.” I rolled my fingers on the steering wheel and blew out another heavy breath.
My fingers still shook when I put the key into the ignition. Mercifully, the engine didn't roar when I turned it, the car didn’t shudder beneath me. Just like I expected from a Hyundai, it was an anti-climactic on switch. One minute it couldn’t drive, the next it could. That was it.
Well, that was I kept telling myself.
I didn’t roll down the window or turn the radio up. Instead, I just listened to the crackle of my tires on the pavement and my ragged breaths. I kept reminding myself that this did not sound like that car. This barely was a car. A tin can. Or a plastic one rather.
My chest unwound when I parked and shoved out of the vehicle. That breath was a fraction closer to free. One demon faced. One very small, very slight demon faced.
The main street of Pacific Cliff hadn’t changed much. It was still an old sea-blasted street where paint peeled and wood showed through. It smelled like salt and forest. And Mercy’s photos still hung in the windows of the gallery about half way down on the left.
I stood outside of the shop and studied the photographs. They were happier than the ones I remembered seeing; Mercy always did turn her insides out for all to see. I smiled at the details only to catch my own scars in the reflection of the glass. The ones that lapped up my neck, across my chin…at my smile. It was the constant check on my own happiness, on how much of me I actually showed.
“You seem as though you’ve seen a ghost.” I knew that dove song voice; I thanked all that was good left in this world that amusement danced on her words.
“I suppose I kind of did.” I turned to find Mercy standing on the sidewalk, and I smiled. Really, truly smiled.
She was more beautiful than I remembered, with her golden hair longer and shoved over and off her freckled face. But it was the two young girls she had with her that really made her beam. The one standing behind her was an exact copy, with golden silk instead of hair, and freckles dusting the bridge of her nose like cinnamon. She played with the thread of Mercy’s jean cut-offs until she bent down and picked up a rock, dusting mud from it, inspecting the layers.
The one on her hip, aimlessly twirling the gentle waves of her mom’s hair, was Dantè’s daughter.
“How old are they?”
“Ruby is three.” She jostled the little girl with the dark straight hair and matching deep well eyes. “And Skylar is six.”
“They’re beautiful, Mercy.” I could barely manage through the knot in my throat.
“Thanks.” She smiled so wide it rivaled the sun itself. “Why don’t you guys go into the shop, okay? We’ll go get ice cream at Emiele’s when Dad gets here.”
“Really?” Skylar shot up from her crouch on the sidewalk. Ruby clapped and started wiggling on her mom’s hip.
“Really.” She bent down just in time for Ruby to shoot toward the front door, Skylar close on her heels to open the vintage iron handle.
“How long have you guys been married?” I asked when laughter faded on the jingle of the gallery’s door chime.
“Nine years.” She spun the rings on her left hand. “They’ve been really good years.” She shoved her hands in her back pockets and squinted into the sun shining behind me.
I didn’t know what else to say, what else to ask, not with our past. Not with, well…everything.
“Why are you here, Rousse?” Her voice went a little more serious but never cold or cruel.
I looked up at the woman I’d taken to the brink. The woman who was almost raped and ruined because of what I’d done. My eyes drifted toward the gallery door, toward the girls that wouldn’t exist if…
“I’m so sorry,” I choked out in all sincerity. �
�So sorry.”
She melted and closed the space between us before folding me into one of her hugs. Her hugs were ten times the size of her little body. I folded around her and drank in her tropical smell.
This was another demon. One so much harder to face. And I felt the sob swell up in my chest.
“Thank you.” She turned and pressed a kiss to my cheek before she pulled away. “Come on, let me show you my gallery.” She grabbed my scarred hand without flinching and cradled it as she pulled me inside.
Squeals of laughter and the wheeling footfalls of small children made the gallery all the more homey. Driftwood sculptures blew in the slight breeze from the front door. It was all pale, pastel earth and sleek, modern frames. It felt like her. Like who she should have been if I hadn’t tried to steal from her.
I smiled even as my heart broke. Broke and put itself back together.
This is what my life would be like now. A series of things that hurt and healed. A series of things that I would have to face. I owed Mercy that much.
Mercy and Dantè.
“What are you doing here?” It was as if I’d conjured him up with a simple thought. I saw Mercy tense at his booming voice.
I blew out a deep breath and turned to face the man that I wronged so very deeply. I did what I could to square my shoulders and absorb his scrutiny. His eyes were dark, stormy even, and that scar he’d gained in prison—the one that was all the more horrific now that I knew what prison was like—colored his face with shadow and menace.
My throat was bone dry, and I couldn’t swallow past his evaluation. I couldn’t blame him either. Whatever he wanted to throw at me, I would take.
“Daddy,” one of the girls screeched.
“Dad,” the other chimed in just before they stampeded around Mercy and me, careening into his legs.
“My jewel.” He bent down and grabbed Ruby. “And the home of the sun itself.” He leaned forward just enough to press a kiss to Skylar’s forehead.
“We’re gonna get ice cream at Em’s.” Ruby started poking at his cheek.
“Oh really.” He chuckled before twisting to catch her small finger gently in his teeth. He playfully gnawed on it before he pulled back. “I hope it tastes better than little girl.”
Her laughter split the room again. The room and my heart in two.
“Go play in the back. Give me five minutes. Can you show me the number five?” He smiled as Ruby whipped out a full hand. He kissed the center and sent her on the way. Skylar grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
When he stood from his crouch on the floor, he was ominous. A man protecting something so much more precious than what I ruined the first time. I owed him so much—time and pain and words, so many words.
“I just got out,” I started with a stammer.
“I know. Max told me.” He crossed his arms across his chest and fractionally widened his stance.
“You still see her?” I couldn’t help but ask, but hope that maybe I hadn’t ruined everything.
The corner of his mouth turned up before he answered, “We have dinner every Sunday.”
Just hearing it made my heart do that same beautiful tumble.
“He was her maid of honor when she married Bert,” Mercy added with a chuckle as she stepped up and threaded her arm through his.
The corner of his mouth cracked but then he school it. “I almost didn’t have that chance,” he said lowly, roughly.
“I know.” My voice shook. “And I just came to say I’m sorry. That’s it. No agenda. No anything. Just I’m sorry, and I will be for as long as I live.” I shifted just enough to roll my ankle; the stupid movement was enough to make both Mercy and Dantè soften.
Dantè sighed. “Am I supposed to forgive you?”
“No.”
He studied me again, his brow crinkled, and I couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing. I couldn’t tell what he saw in me. I couldn’t predict what he’d say.
“Well I do.” He shifted and put his arm around Mercy’s shoulder. She melted into him and looked up at him with that same warm butter smile of hers. “I didn’t at first. I did some wicked things even, but then I got married.” He leaned his cheek onto the crown of her head. “I had my girls.” He smiled. “They reshaped my heart. There wasn’t room for that stuff anymore.”
“No more vengeance?” I couldn’t quite face the forgiveness that he’d offered.
“Not unless someone hurts them.” He nodded toward the back room still alive with giggles.
I felt the tears prick the corners of my eyes a moment before they fell down my cheeks. This was what love was. What was worth fighting for, tearing apart worlds for. This was worth forgiveness.
I, however, was not.
The tears kept streaming down my face. Tears for the beauty in the family before me. Tears for how I’d thoroughly smashed mine. Tears for Dantè’s forgiveness. Tears for how I’d never earn it for myself.
“I forgive you.” Dantè had come closer, and he clapped a hand to the back of my neck and pulled my forehead to his. “I want you to go on from here and find some happiness, Rousse. Some sort of family. Some sort of peace. I don’t think you’ve ever really had it.”
“I don’t think I ever really deserved it.”
“Rousse, the only advice I can give you is wait, and hope.” He stepped back and smiled at me, the warm, untainted smile of the man that always waited for me. He grabbed the hand of the woman with unwavering strength, who after everything still shared her warmth like she was the sun herself. “I think it was Alexandre Dumas who said ‘All of human wisdom is contained in the words, wait and hope.’”
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS
This book was a doozy to write. It was thrown into the flame and reborn numerous times. I am incredibly grateful for every person that took the time to read it. Re-read it. And re-read it again. No book has ever made me doubt myself so fully, no group of friends have ever helped restore me so completely.
I dedicated this book to Staci Hart because she is an inspiring and amazing powerhouse in my world. Each time I talk to her, it’s a little bit of soul food. Each time she shares her infinite wisdom, I get a power boost. Hugging her at signings? Well that’s just a reset on everything that makes me sad or scared in this world. She is awesome and her friendship is invaluable. Her words too. They make my heart swell and challenge me to do better. Be better. You are truly a goddess.
Charleigh Rose, man, I don’t know where to start with you. See the thing about Charleigh is that she’s just going about her day to day, being her, but that person—that fucking amazing person—shines through all the same. In a community where I often feel invisible, this incredible writer, mom, badass, superhero saw me. And the words she so casually said—the ones that she probably doesn’t even remember—in Vegas, are the reason I picked back up this manuscript and worked through it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for seeing someone as small as me, Charleigh. Thank you for making me feel one thousand feet tall.
Harloe Rae, woman, you are the best friend a girl could ask for. I can’t wait to grow even older on the barstool next to you. You’re the single onion ring to my chicken finger. I love you.
Marley Valentine, Jill Silva and Dyllan Erikson, you guys mean so much to me. To take your precious time to read and re-read this book is something I have no right to ask but you all offered so willingly. You guys pull me back from the edge and make me see my word’s and my personal worth. You are all invaluable to me.
Sarah, Mix and Emma, this book would not be what it is without any of you. I feel like we all worked for it. Thank you for being on my team. Emma, you know you always have half of my heart hanging out with you, right?
Kathleen. How the hell did I manage to publish books without you? I can’t wait to work with you again. I’ll even try to brush everyone’s teeth after puking and before kissing this time. Maybe.
To the Ladyfaces, my reader group, you guys find me amusing and I’m not sure why, but I love you so m
uch for it. You guys are the weirdest, wildest group of people I know, and damn am I glad to know you.
To the mystery woman who designed my cover, you are amazing and I adore you. I will weep for the covers we do not make together.
To the special man who told me to stop apologizing so much. You’ll never know you’re such a big part of why I decided to keep publishing.
To my husband and my family, thank you for your unwavering love and support. You guys see me as an artist rather than a flaming garbage can that burns through money. Thank you. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for your love. Thank you for allowing me to be myself.
And to you my reader, I will never find adequate words to thank you for reading my stories. For reading all the way to this point. Each one of you matter to me. Each review, each teaser are treasures but just each day, hour, minute you guys decide to spend in my world is too. I am eternally grateful for you, I would not exist without you. Thank you for breathing life into my words.
OTHER BOOKS BY ACE GRAY
IN THE TWISTED WORLD
Twisted Fate
Twisted Death
A Twisted Love Story
Twisted Secrets
MIXING BUSINESS WITH PLEASURE
Strictly Business
Bad For Business
Family Business
Of Smoke & Cinnamon: A Christmas Story
ANTHOLOGIES AUTHOR CREDITS
Brothel: The Magnolia Diaries
Because Beards
The complete collection is available here.
ABOUT ACE GRAY
Ace Gray is a self-proclaimed troublemaker and connoisseur of both the good life and fairy tales. After a life-long love affair with books, she undertook writing the novel she wanted to read, which culminated in her first release STRICTLY BUSINESS. When she’s not writing, she works in craft beer. She loves rainy days, shellac manicures, coffee shops and bourbon—all of which are bountiful in her adopted home of Portland, OR where she runs amok with her chef husband and husky pup.
