Always Love Me: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by Derrick, Zoey

  I plow my way down to the wet room and out onto the deck. Rebel’s sitting on one of the dock’s pylons. My anger flares again but seeing her sitting there starts to warm my heart.

  She’s fucking here.

  I approach the starboard wall and toss my bags onto the dock. Rebel jumps at the noise it makes and her eyes find mine. Hers are soft, worried, and her mouth thin and tight.

  Disembarking on this side is so much easier as there’s no walls to climb and the dock isn’t too far down, so I hop over, landing carefully on my left leg.

  Rebel stands from her perch and walks toward me. “Don’t,” I snap.

  I lean down and grab my bags, tossing them over my shoulder.

  “Will you let me explain?”

  “Nope.”

  I walk across the dock.

  “I tried to tell you almost two months ago.”

  “Four months after the fact.”

  “Two months after I found out,” she argues back.

  I turn on her, towering over her. “I should have been the first call you made when you found out.”

  “You were.”

  “No, Skylar, I wasn’t.”

  “I promised you I wouldn’t keep it from you. I did try to call. I got your voicemail.”

  “You didn’t leave a message,” I retort as I turn back toward my houseboat and away from her.

  “I wasn’t going to tell you in a voicemail.”

  “I don’t recall you calling again.”

  “Goddamn it, Dirk,” she growls. “I’m fucking here, aren’t I?”

  I stop. “Why, Skylar? Why are you here?”

  “Because.”

  “Because, why?” I ask with my back to her.

  “Because I need to know if you still love me.”

  I lower my head, but don’t answer her. I feel defeated and deflated. I feel like I’ve been run over by a Rebel-sized freight train, yet again. “I’ll always love you.” My voice is barely loud enough for her to hear me. I start walking. Ten feet to my porch. Another ten feet to my door. Twenty more feet, and I can disappear.

  “I know I deserve it. You walking away from me, and you probably should, but I’m here to apologize.” Her voice gets closer, she’s following after me.

  Fuck. Two more steps, and I would have made it to my porch. Six more, and I’d have been inside and slamming the door in her face. I want to give her a taste of the medicine she’s given me over the years. A little rejection, and a little ire. “I’m waiting,” I groan.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Is that all?” I ask.

  “What else do you want me to say?”

  I turn on her again, she’s much closer than I expected, and I nearly run into her. My bags swing and throw me off balance. “Fuck!” I snap as I drop the bags and take very awkward steps away to right myself without falling flat on my face.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No, dammit,” I snap. I manage to straighten myself out, and I turn toward her. “First of all, you leave without even saying good-bye, again. Then, you don’t even let me see my son before you go. You don’t call me for four months. You text telling me we need to talk and force me to wait, why? So, you could show up here, six months pregnant, and expect me to fall to my knees and tell you everything is okay? Newsflash, Skylar, it’s not.”

  She reaches into her bag and pulls out an envelope. Her eyes meet mine, and she frowns as she carefully steps closer to me. She hands me the envelope. “When you’re ready, everything you need to know is in here.”

  She turns away from me and heads toward the dock stairs. “Where’s Jax?” I call to her retreating form.

  “At home,” is all she says.

  “At home? In New York?” I narrow my eyes at her. Randy said he was here.

  She doesn’t answer. She keeps walking and climbs into a waiting SUV. I notice now she’s alone. No Diem, Scott, Melody, Jax…

  “What the fuck did you say to her?” Randy yells from the wheelhouse.

  I throw my hands up in frustration and roll my eyes. I grab my bags off the dock and finally make it to my porch. I press in my key code and hear the beep and lock disengage before I open the door. I drop my bags on the floor and toss the envelope on the table. It stares back at me like a beacon on a dark night.

  I grab it and flip it over, tearing into it, and I pull out a small stack of black and white pictures.

  I absently pull out a chair and sit as I take a look at the fuzzy black and white photo. It’s almost all black except for a small white center. It looks like an egg. My eyes roam around the frame of the picture and find Rebel’s name and an August date.

  I flip to the next picture. This one is dated in October, a few days after she told me we needed to talk. This one is clearer, a little more defined, and I can make out the telltale outline of a head, eyes, nose, even lips.

  I take a deep breath and flip to the next picture. The tone of the image has changed to sepia in color, but the blurry facial features of the previous photo are now clear as a whistle. My finger slides over the image of my child. Our child.

  I flip the next picture, and I don’t need the black font explanation to tell me I’m looking at my baby girl.

  A tear drop hits the photograph before I even realize I’m crying. I wipe it off quickly, not wanting to ruin the picture. I flip to the next one. It’s not a picture, but a newspaper clipping. I set down the stack but not before I notice the next picture. It’s not a picture of the baby, but of a house. I narrow my eyes, and my tears dry up in an instant.

  I unfold the newspaper article.

  It’s dated about three weeks ago.

  The headline is large and glaring at me.

  Skylar McKay, CEO and Owner of Rebel Industries, Steps Down.

  I take the next picture off the stack, and my fingers brush something on the back of it. I flip it over, but before I can read what’s written there, I catch a glimpse of the next picture. It’s Jaxon.

  My heart hurts.

  The ache burns hotter when I read the back of the picture.

  When you’re ready to talk, we’re at home.

  Chapter 48

  Skylar

  “Don’t, Uncle Randy, I’m not…”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “Nothing,” I argue, “that’s the problem.”

  “You’ve got to give him some time.”

  I sigh into the phone. “I’m aware of that. I didn’t expect to show up and have it be all sunshine and roses.” But I didn’t expect this. “Have you talked to him?”

  “Nope, every time I call, he rejects me, and when I go down to the boat, he doesn’t answer. I did notice today his catamaran is gone.”

  I nod, understanding, despite him not being able to see me. It’s been three days since I walked off the dock without a word from Xavier.

  My hand absently roams over my belly. My belly button popped yesterday, and it feels so funny beneath my shirt.

  “Mommmmmy!” Jax hollers from the other room.

  “I gotta run, Randy.”

  “I heard. Come over for dinner?”

  “Not tonight, but how about tomorrow?” I counter.

  “Perfect. Come over whenever.”

  “Will do.” I step into Jax’s playroom, and he’s got his hand stuck under the lid of his toy box. I laugh. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, kiddo.”

  I press the red button and kneel next to him. “Remember what I showed you?” I ask Jax.

  He shakes his head. His hand isn’t really stuck he hasn’t figured out how to pull his hand out. It’s a safety toybox and the lid weighs next to nothing and it won’t hurt him.

  I reach over. “Follow me,” I coo at him. I flip my hand over and slide my fingers between the lid and the box. He follows me. “Now, lift it up.”

  He grunts like it weighs a hundred pounds, but he lifts it up.

  “Keep pushing it.”

  He pushes it until it’s all the way back. I enga
ge the latch to keep it up. He likes to play with it, which is how he ended up smashing his hand.

  The doorbell rings.

  Jax perks up a bit and looks toward the hallway. I realize my lecture on leaving the latch alone is now going to be lost on him. “Door,” he squeals and takes off running. “Unkey Wandy,” he giggles as he runs toward the door. I get up as quick as I can to follow after him. Jax can’t open the door, and I feel bad he will be disappointed. I talked to Randy not five minutes ago, and he’s at home. Around the corner at home, but it won’t be him at the door.

  “Everything alright?” Diem asks as he comes into the house from the door off the kitchen leading to a separate building where he, Melody, and Kara are staying.

  “I think so,” I say as I get to the door. I look through the peephole and see a strange man standing on the other side of the door.

  “Jax,” I whisper and grab his outstretched hand, pulling him back from the door.

  “Wandy?” he says, confused.

  “It’s not Randy, baby.” I scoop him up and turn toward Diem. My eyes widen in panic, and he scoots quickly past me as the doorbell rings again. I take Jax into my room and out of sight.

  “Can I help you?” I hear Diem ask.

  “We’re looking for Skylar McKay.”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “I’m SPD Detective Holmes. I need to speak with Ms. McKay.”

  “Can I see your credentials, please?” Diem is diligent, to say the least.

  There’s a brief pause before Diem says, “Melody, can you get Jax, please?”

  My heart stops beating. My head starts to spin.

  “They’re in her room,” Diem says, but it sounds like he’s underwater with all the blood rushing through my ears.

  Melody comes in. “Melllly,” Jax coos.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper.

  “I have no clue,” she says softly.

  “Skylar, you can come out,” Diem says from the front door.

  “Take him to your place, will you, please?”

  She nods. “Of course.” Jax goes to her willingly, and she takes him from my room.

  I can hear Diem letting the officers into the house. “What is this all about?” Diem asks Detective Holmes, but it’s a female voice that answers him.

  I need to listen, to have some idea of what is going on before I step out there.

  “Are you familiar with Deidrick Tyler?” the female officer asks.

  “Mr. Tyler, yes, why?” Diem asks hesitantly, and I can’t move.

  “Diem,” I scream.

  Before I know it, he’s standing before me. I can barely see him through my tears. “What do they want?” I whisper, out of breath.

  “I don’t know. Come on, let’s go find out.”

  Diem helps me into the living room where the officers wait.

  “Ms. McKay?” the male officer, Detective Holmes, says. Then he takes in my pregnant state.

  “Yes,” I say with hesitation.

  “Are you familiar with Deidrick Tyler, ma’am?”

  My heart freezes again at the mention of his name. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “I’m sorry, we don’t mean to frighten you.”

  “So, he’s alright?” I ask. My heart calms down a little.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” Diem steps in and asks the obvious.

  “He was arrested last night at a house on Bainbridge Island.”

  “Fuck. What was he doing out there?”

  “We’re not entirely sure, but he was intoxicated and causing a disturbance.”

  I roll my eyes. “What exactly can I do to help?”

  “Somewhere along the lines, he lost his phone and has been unable to locate anyone to bail him out,” the female officer says.

  “Um, and you came knocking on my door?”

  “We were unable to locate a contact number for you, but he had this,”—he hands me a photocopy of the photograph I gave him of the house—“on him at the time. He asked us to reach out to you.”

  “He could have told you to contact Randy, his houseboat is on his dock, for god’s sake,” I grouse. Now I’m pissed off.

  “We’re sorry,” Detective Holmes says. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “If he was arrested last night, why has he not been released?” Diem asks.

  “His bail was set today. Bail or three more days,” the female officer says with a shrug.

  I nod.

  “If you want to help him out,”—Detective Holmes hands me a card—“you can find him here.”

  “How much is his bail?”

  “Twenty-five thousand, but you’ll only need to pay ten percent in cash or put up something as collateral,” she says.

  I take the card and wrap my fingers around it, crumpling it as I do. “Thank you,” I tell them both. My blood pressure seems to be dropping some. Before Diem can show them out, I ask. “What about his boat?” I know from my conversation with Randy a few minutes ago his boat is how he got to Bainbridge Island.

  “We impounded it this morning.”

  I sigh. “Thank you.”

  “Have a good night.”

  Diem closes the door. “Motherfucker,” I growl.

  “Want to bail him out?” Diem asks.

  “Fuck no.” I shake my head. “He was on Bainbridge, which means he…” I pinch the bridge of my nose and hold out the card to Diem.

  “Where was he?”

  “His mother’s old house.”

  Dirk

  “Mr. Tyler, you’ve made bail.”

  “Thank you, Skylar,” I say under my breath as I stand up and collect my jacket off the seat.

  The cop escorts me to a window where I’m handed an envelope with my belongings in it. Mainly my boat keys, my pack of smokes and my lighter, and the envelope of ultrasound pictures of my daughter. I sign their ledger and I’m handed a small stack of papers. “Your court information, as well as the impound information for your boat,” the officer says.

  I didn’t even think about my damn boat.

  Fuck, I wasn’t thinking about a whole hell of a lot last night.

  I’m lucky they didn’t slap me with a DUI. They couldn’t prove I was actually driving my boat while drunk because I had the bottle with me and I was on land. At least, that’s what they told me in court today. I didn’t start drinking until after I docked the boat off of their dock, which is probably what alerted them to my presence.

  Detective Holmes took pity on me when I explained where I was arrested and offered to help me track down someone who would bail me out. At first, I wanted them to get Randy or even Dribbler, but I realized the more I thought about it, it would put Rebel in the least financial strain. I’d never actually skip bail, but I would hate to have Randy or Dribbler struggling to figure out how to bail my ass out.

  The officer escorts me to a door that buzzes when we approach it, and he opens it for me. “Good night, Mr. Tyler,” he says as I slide past him and head for the door.

  I step outside and look around. I don’t find Rebel anywhere, but there is a black SUV parked down the ramp. I light up a smoke. She’ll let me have this much, right?

  The driver’s side door opens, and Diem steps out. “Shit,” I sputter.

  “Get in.”

  “Can I smoke?” I feel like a child right this moment, and I’m regretting asking Skye to bail me out as I walk down the ramp.

  “In the car, let’s go.”

  I reach for the handle as Diem climbs into the driver’s seat. I look into the backseat, and it’s empty except for Jax’s car seat. “Where’s Rebs?” I ask.

  “At home,” Diem says sharply.

  “I can take a cab,” I offer, but he puts the SUV in drive and drives out of the parking lot. “Why didn’t she come?”

  “Because, in case you haven’t forgotten, she’s six months pregnant. I wouldn’t be here, except she put two and two together when she realized where you wer
e.”

  “She remembers?” I grimace.

  “She does.”

  I take a drag off my smoke and roll the window all the way down.

  “You scared the living shit out of her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because two cops went knocking on her door looking to talk to her about you. You figure it out.”

  “Fuck!”

  He looks at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “I can’t say I’m very happy with you either right now.”

  “You’re not my father. Or hers,” I snap.

  “No, I’m not, but in case you haven’t noticed, or figured shit out yet, she’s uprooted her life to be out here, and you can’t even give her the time of day.”

  “She fucking left.”

  “She had no choice,” Diem growls at me. “She got a call at four in the morning that day and she had no choice but to go.”

  “She could have told me that.”

  “She’s trying, and you’re being a fowl prick,” He barks with venom in his tone. He’s pissed.

  “She had six months to explain this to me,” I argue back.

  “I’m not going to argue this with you. She’s here, for you. You need to get your head out of your ass and figure it out. One way or another, because I’m sick and tired of seeing her agonizing over you.”

  Neither one of us says anything as he gets on the freeway that will take us back to my house. I never Google searched the address she gave me, but the picture is in my stuff from the guard. Detective Holmes probably returned it before I got bailed out.

  A few minutes later, he’s taking my exit. “Will you take me to her?”

  “No,” he states simply.

  “Why not?”

  “Because after the cops showing up and scaring the daylights out of her, she doesn’t need any more stress tonight. You want to see her, then you’ll have to figure it out.”

  I nod.

  I’ve royally fucked up.

  “At the very least, you owe her a huge thank you.”