by L. A. Fiore
“Cheshire cat really did have it right,” I muttered. Ride out the storm. I shook my head, how the fuck long would this storm last?
“You are prepared to walk away from our life.”
“To keep you safe, yes.”
“And forcing me to live half a life, to face the years ahead alone knowing the man I love, and who loves me, is out there cowering because of what might happen.”
Anger sparked in those eyes. “Guarantee me no one will take a shot at you, tell me there won’t be another woman who breaks into my hotel room, or sends me disturbing letters or decides my wife is in the way and shoots her. You know my past history. Fuck, even Stephanie bordered on stalker. Tell me it all ends.”
“You know I can’t.”
“I can’t accept even a half percent chance that someone will hurt you because of me.”
“So your fear for me outweighs your love. Just like my dad.”
All the anger drained from him and a broken man stood before me. “Easy for you to say, but you weren’t the one who was almost left behind. A lifetime of knowing the one person I want most in the world was dead because of me. I understand what your father did. It wasn’t cowardice. It was strength. And it isn’t fear that outweighs love; it’s the opposite. Loving someone means you are ready to make the hard decisions, willing to put your own happiness aside for theirs. I love you; you know how much I do. You’re the best part of me and it is because you are that I’m letting you go.”
“And my happiness?”
“Whatever lies ahead for you, you’ll be alive to live it.”
“Bullshit.”
Startled, he reared back a bit.
“You want to walk, fucking walk, but know this. YOU ARE MAKING A MISTAKE! You promised you’d never leave my side. You promised until death do us part. I’m not dead! Every fucking breath…another lie.”
“Alexis.”
“No. You’ve already made up your mind. You’ve already made a decision that will irrevocably change my life and you didn’t even give me a say in the matter. I thought we were partners, we fucking decided together what sofa to purchase, what plates and what color to paint our fucking bathroom, but for the biggest decision, the one that ends the life that I know, that takes away the fucking dream, you made that call all on your own.” I wiped at my eyes and headed to the stairs. “I’m going to Paige’s. Maybe you should take some time, visit your Grandfather and think about what you’re doing.” I looked back at him. “Really think about it because if you go through with this, one day you will realize you’ve made the biggest fucking mistake of your life, but by then I might not feel inclined to take you back. And that will be my decision.”
“No. He loves you. The man is crazy out of his head in love with you.” Paige was emphatic and she was right, but did he love me enough.
“The woman that shot me, there’s a link to him and he’s afraid for me.”
Grant was pacing the living room.
Restless energy and worry had me on the edge of the sofa. I felt an ulcer forming. “He wouldn’t really leave me right? I mean he knows how much it hurt dealing with the loss of my father. He wouldn’t do that, right? He wouldn’t leave me?”
“No! Of course not.” Paige looked horrified at the suggestion. “Where is he now?”
“He’s leaving for Ireland in a few days. I encouraged him to go, to recharge, clear his head and think things through.” I dropped back against the sofa. “But you didn’t see him, the look in his eyes. And what kills me is if the roles were reversed, my first instinct would be to push him away. I don’t know that time would change that.”
“He’s upset. He reacted to horrible news; he didn’t give himself time to process. That is human nature, but what you two have is special and to put it aside because of a possible ‘what if’ is bullshit; he will figure that out. He’ll cool off and think logically and then he’ll beg your forgiveness for being an idiot. That’s what Grant would do. Right, Grant?”
Grant had stopped pacing, but his expression increased my fear not lessened it.
“Grant?”
Paige’s head whipped around to her husband. “Grant? What?”
“Had it been you, the girls, Alexis, if I was in Greyson’s shoes…” Sad eyes turned to me. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.”
I jumped from the sofa. “I need to go home.” My eyes found Paige’s, “I have to go home before he leaves.”
The flight was the longest six hours of my life. A car was waiting for me when I arrived at JFK. It took almost an hour to get to the apartment. I hurried inside. I was shaking in the elevator, shaking so badly it took me four tries to punch in our code.
I pushed open the door calling, “Greyson!”
It was eerily quiet in the apartment. I hurried to his studio and yanked open the door. It was empty, every canvas, every tube of paint, the sketches, the brushes, even the sculpture that I hadn’t been allow to see. It was all gone. There was nothing left of him, not even his scent lingered. I ran upstairs, into our room. His closet was empty, his clothes were gone, his toiletries. My eyes moved to the bed and my painting. It was gone. That was when it hit me, when the pain was too much and I dropped to my knees. The sob tore from my throat; I stared at the mural that had one time brought so much joy and now it mocked me. He left me. He walked out of my life. Pain exploded in my chest, far worse than when I was shot. It was then I saw the note on the bedside table.
I understand now why your father did what he did. And I know what my leaving is going to do to you. I’ve spent every day since that day on the beach trying to remove the sadness in your eyes and now I’m responsible for it, but I almost lost you. Knowing it was because of me you almost died, that you lost your words, that you struggled to find yourself breaks me. The fear that it could happen again, that another Mille is out there just waiting. I love you, I will always love you, but I have to let you go. I didn’t keep my promise and I broke my vows, but believe that every breath, Alexis, every fucking breath I breathe is for you.
I curled up his note, folded into myself, and cried until I was as empty as our home.
Greyson
A car pulled up in front of our apartment building and Alexis climbed out. She’d only just left for Paige’s and she was back. I knew she’d be back because my girl could read my mind too. I needed to see her one last time. The hope on her face that was clear even from my distance had my hands curling into fists in the pockets of my hoodie. Everything in me wanted to cross the street, pull her close and never let her go. Then I saw her lying in a pool of her own blood. I’d never get that image out of my head. Or the months and months that she struggled to find herself again. She ran inside. My chest ached, like someone was driving stakes into it, but then it should hurt like hell when a dream dies. I waited, knew what she was seeing, knew how it was going to break her. I was breaking right along with her.
Night had settled when I pulled my hoodie lower over my head and walked away from the dream of life that had been all too fleeting. I knew the pain I was causing, knew I had done the one thing I never wanted to do. Hurt her, but she’d be alive to feel the pain.
Alexis
He left. Two days I’d been home in an apartment that had no traces of him and I still didn’t believe he’d walked out on us. Heartache turned to anger, I was so fucking angry and he wasn’t close so I went to someone who was.
I stood outside Lucifer’s Warriors clubhouse. Anger fueled me and still there was fear because the place definitely had a scary vibe.
“Hey, babe, you looking to party?” one of the biker’s called. Shaved head, muscled, a tattoo climbing up his neck. He was wearing a leather vest, his name over his heart. Gunner.
He walked toward me not at all hiding his thorough inspection. A smile spread over his face when he stopped just in front of me. “I’m here to play, babe.” He looked at my breasts. “I’d love to play.”
“I want to see Finn.”
He cocked his hi
p. “You’re feisty and a sweet piece of ass, but Finn is very picky.”
“Yeah, well tell Finn his daughter is here.”
His expression changed instantly. The gate opened and he yanked me through it, dragging me across the compound to the clubhouse door.
I was scared; terrified was a better word. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. “Let me go.”
He ignored me, stopping within inches of the door.
“Shit,” he rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “He’ll cut my dick off if I bring you through there.”
Some of the fear faded seeing his uncertainty. And his comment, talk about graphic. “Why would he remove your…?” I gestured rather than said.
His eyes danced with mischief. “The club whores are working the room.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I had an idea.
“There’s no other way in and you can’t stay outside.” His head lowered; penetrating blue eyes with specks of brown stared through me. “Keep your head down,” he ordered.
On that warning, he dragged me into the club. I didn’t keep my head down, too curious, and boy did I get an eyeful. A woman was kneeling in front of a sofa where three bikers sat, their legs spread and cocks out. She was servicing all three of them right down the line. It reminded me of when I was a kid, hell even now, filling up my cup with each flavor of soda from the soda fountain. It always ended up tasting like Sprite. Watching her, yeah, I didn’t think I’d be doing that anymore. In another corner, a woman was on the lap of another biker. No question they were having sex, but it was the man behind her, fucking her ass at the same time that had my eyes dropping. Holy shit, it was like a den of sin.
“Told you to keep your head down,” Gunner reprimanded.
“I can’t unsee that,” I muttered.
We reached an office. Nothing fancy, a desk covered in papers, a chair, filing cabinets against one wall and the Lucifer’s Warriors image painted on the wall behind the desk.
“I’ll get Finn,” Gunner said then added, “Don’t leave this room.”
Yeah, because that was my first thought, escape the room so I could be mistaken for one of those women. I needed a shower. On second thought, did they autoclave people? “I won’t.”
I stared at the door, trying not to see the images in the other room. How did one become a club whore and why would you want to be?
A few minutes later, the door slammed open on my dad. His expression was not one of loving father or even mildly happy to see me. He was pissed and still my heart skipped a beat because I had imagined this moment so many times over the years. I had never once imagined his opening words being what they were though. “Are you fucking out of your mind?”
It was becoming clearer that I might in fact be out of my mind.
His anger shifted as he pivoted and slammed Gunner up against the wall by his throat. “You fucking brought her inside?”
“Better than outside.”
Finn released Gunner, so clearly that meant something. Angry eyes turned on me. “You can’t be here.”
Fascination, even love, all took a backseat to temper. “I am well aware of your pathological need to keep me as far from you as possible.”
Dad’s eyes widened; Gunner chuckled. Dad glared, he shut up. A softness entered his expression when he saw the locket.
“I just wanted to inform you that my husband has walked out on me.”
I barely heard him, but a chill moved down my spine in warning. “He what?”
“Yes, he walked out on me and did so following your lead.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I was shot.”
His expression changed again. Pain burned in his eyes. “I know. I was at the hospital.”
That show of fatherly concern deflated some of my anger, even my voice softened. “You were? Never mind.” I twisted my fingers together and tallied on. “Greyson has gotten it into his thick and very stubborn head that the shooting was his fault.” I started to pace as the anger rolled through me again. “He didn’t know her, never met her, and yet it was his fault that she shot me. It’s the most ridiculous logic I’ve ever heard and yet you applied the same fucking logic when you left.”
Finn Levy would make an excellent poker player.
“Like you, he made the decision for me, so let me share with you my choice had I been given one. I would have preferred a life with you. I would have chosen the danger, and the possibility of death, to have a chance to know the man in this fucking picture.” I slammed the picture of us on his desk. “I have looked at this every day. My whole life wondering what you were like, where you were, why you left me. You walked out for my best interests, but my best interests would have been served better by having my dad in my life. By learning who I was and where I came from. You took that away, you forced me to find my way in the world on my own rather than being the guiding light you should have been. And I am here to tell you that you were fucking wrong to do that. I would have chosen you regardless of how many years I would have had with you.”
I wiped at my tears. My hand shaking as I retrieved the picture. “And now my husband has done the same. He’s left me alone, to find my way without him all because of some stupid, bullshit caveman mentality of protecting his woman. But a life without love isn’t a life worth protecting.” My eyes met his. “I’m so fucking tired of the men in my life killing me with their good intentions. I’m stronger than either of you give me credit for. So I’ll tell you what I should have told him. Fuck you for leaving me and fuck you for staying away.”
I walked out. I wasn’t alone, knew Gunner was behind me. He reached for the door of the cab, held it for me. Tears were running down my face when I glanced at him. “You’re so much like him.” He held out his hand. “It was nice to fucking meet you.”
He squeezed my hand then let it go. The door of the cab closed as soon as I climbed in. I didn’t look back.
Part Three
We come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.
–Sam Keen
Alexis present day
It felt good; the shock up my arm as my fist made contact with the bag. My muscles felt the burn, my heart pounded hard and strong in my chest. My iPod blared “Now That It’s Over” by Everclear. I hit the bag again, felt the connection, and grinned. My feet knew the dance, step in, step out. My sports bra was drenched as sweat dripped down my back.
After an hour of beating the bag my trainer helped me with my gloves. He handed me a canteen; I chugged the water in one long swallow.
“See you tomorrow, Alexis?”
I’d been working with Jensen for a few months. He gave me a way to channel the hurt, because I did hurt, a pain I had gotten used to feeling.
“Yes, same time, if that works.”
“You bet. Nice workout today.”
I didn’t go right home. I walked to my jetty and took my favorite seat on the rocks. I came here every day. In the beginning, I was waiting for him. Fear made him leave, but I believed love would bring him back. I was wrong. Like my father, he was staying away for me. His defection nearly killed me because for twenty-two years we had been an us and now I was back to being just me. I struggled with wanting to hunt him down, but he left. He had to be the one to come back.
Four months I stayed in the apartment with Buggers and buried myself in work. I didn’t talk to my friends or family. I worked and I cried. I talked to his ghost, yelled at times. I grieved and I mourned and I struggled to understand how he could have walked away from us. Even knowing his intentions, what we had was rare and beautiful and something you fought for not walked away from.
Anger followed despair, a raging anger. I hated him for leaving me, for not holding on with both hands. I was so angry I almost painted over our bedroom wall. But as I stood there, with brush in hand, I couldn’t do it. There were so many memories I couldn’t bare to erase.
During that time I rescued B
enny and Joon, two German shepherd puppies. Watching as Buggers and the puppies bonded was very therapeutic. As the four of us became a family, my heart started to mend.
Six months after he left me, I moved back to Mendocino. The twins moved with me because family stuck together. I couldn’t bring myself to sell the apartment. I hadn’t known until I looked into it that he had bought our home under my name only, but I couldn’t let go of that last piece of him largely due to the mural he had painted. It was a part of our story, so though it made no sense to have the apartment sitting empty I would never sell it.
I remembered coming home and thought how painful it was going to be because this was where it had all started for us, but I found comfort in those memories instead of pain.
My house, the one Callum had rented, had sold not long after I returned, but that was just as well because that was where I had seen my life when it included Greyson. He was gone, that life was no longer. Instead, I purchased a small bungalow on the beach. Dylan and Dominic lived next door.
The one-year anniversary of him leaving was approaching and here I was. Through it all I had my family. They saved me; when my feet were kicked out from under me, they were there to hold me until I was able to stand on my own two feet again. And I was standing. I was a little wobbly and I still fell sometimes, but I was learning to move on and I was trying to find happy. My hope was one day it wouldn’t be so hard.
I took another minute to appreciate the view that never grew old before I headed back up the beach. I needed to feed my babies. Halfway up the beach I heard, “Well, if it isn’t Alexis.”
The breeze kept me from smelling the warning. Debbie stood behind me. We were middle-aged women and still she acted like a queen bee. She had no minions or kingdom. It was very possible she was overcompensating because as I had predicted, high school really was as good as it got for her. And still she gave me shit whenever she saw me.
“Debbie.”
“No Greyson?”
I had no intention of letting Debbie pick at the scab. I walked around her.
