by McLean, Jay
I wake up to the sound of male voices. Two of them. Both of whom I recognize. I have no concept of time, but the sun’s out, filtering through the closed curtains. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but I force myself to get out of bed.
It’s time.
I start at the closet, reach for the duffle bag up on the shelf and fill it with a few items of clothing. Not the nice ones, I’ll leave them here—just the bare necessities. Then I go to the bathroom, cringing when I see the aftermath of what I’d done. I grab my toothbrush and a stick of deodorant and shove them in the bag, too.
I stop with my hand on the bedroom door, take one last inhale before stepping out. Brent and Ky turn to me the minute the door opens. They’re both in my kitchen cleaning up the mess I’d made, while Perceval speaks quietly on his phone in the living room. “I’m sorry,” I tell them all.
Perceval ends his call, pockets the phone. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I lie. “I’m going to call my boss and see if she can give me more hours. I’ll pay for all the damage. It might take me a while, but—”
“Bailey,” Brent interrupts. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Another lie. “I was hoping it would be okay if I take a few of the clothes you’d bought me. Not a lot, just enough to keep warm.” He glances at Perceval but doesn’t say anything. I add, “There’s a shelter on Fifth that might have a few cots open. If I can get a ride there, then I’ll be out of your hair and—”
Brent raises his voice. “Bailey!”
I cover my ears, close my eyes.
“Shit,” he mutters, and a moment later, his hands are on my wrists, gently tugging them down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
I open my eyes to his, clear blue like the oceans I’ve only ever seen in pictures.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
I blink. “But you don’t need me anymore.”
“Jesus Christ,” Perceval scoffs. “Bailey, we’re not going to throw you out just because your cover’s blown. There are a few other leads that Neilson and I need to follow up on, and even when that’s over, we’re not just going to send you to a fucking shelter.”
“Oh.” My gaze drops. “So, I can stay?”
“Yes, you can stay,” Neilson answers.
I look over at Ky, who’s been watching our entire interaction. “Is it okay if I stay? Or…?”
He frowns. “Of course.”
“Thank you for—” I choke on a sob and clear my throat. “Thank you for taking care of me, for cleaning up my mess, and—”
“It’s okay,” he cuts in, then looks toward the agents. “Do you mind if I have a word with Bailey alone?”
“Yeah,” Brent replies, at the same time Perceval says, “We have to go anyway. We’ve got a meeting with the state bureau.”
Brent kisses my forehead, squeezes my arm. “Answer when I call you, okay?”
“Okay.”
Ky waits until the agents have left before leading me to the couch. I sit down next to him, anxiousness flowing through my veins. Obviously, I know what’s coming. I’m just not quite ready for it to happen yet. I stare down at my lap, too afraid to look at him.
“Why Madison?”
My gaze shifts to his. “What?”
“Did you get to choose your name?”
I nod.
“Why Madison?”
I shrug. “Because I was mad at the time.”
He nods at this, his eyes soft as they search between mine. “I wish I could change my name.”
“I like your name.”
He’s quiet a moment, his stare never leaving mine. “You know, the first person I ever lost was Jackson’s dad.” His throat bobs with his swallow. “He was the only father figure I had, and I loved him as such. I won’t repeat the details of what transpired. In the end, it was a car accident. He was T-boned by a drunk driver running a red light. For a long time, I blamed myself for his death. I became angry at the world and I…”
“Smashed everything in the house?” I ask.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I joined the military.”
“Oh.”
“In a way, I think I was hoping to die at war.”
I frown.
“The point is, Mad—Bailey—I lost control because I didn’t allow myself to grieve. Losing him meant losing a part of myself, and I didn’t want to let go of that part of me, that part that allowed me to feel like someone’s son. I’d never felt it before, and I wanted to hold on to it for as long as possible.” He pauses a breath. “I guess what I’m saying is that I understand your hurt, and I understand why losing DeLuca means as much as it does to you. He cared about you in a time when you felt like no one else did, and you don’t want to let go of that feeling… and you don’t have to immediately. There’s no time limit when it comes to grief. No clock.” He turns his entire body toward me. “But, you have options.”
“Options?”
“Option one: you allow the people who care about you to comfort you. Don’t push them away like I did. It only makes things worse. Trust me on that, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, wiping at a stray tear. “And option two?”
He smiles. “You lock yourself away for a few days and just cry. You think about him, you find ways to hold on to the memories of him. And you just… let it out. But in the end, you have to accept that he’s gone, and you need to find a way to move on from it, Bailey. As hard as it is, you just have to.”
* * *
For the next three days, I lock myself in my apartment, and I cry. I cry so hard I run out of tears, and then I let them build again with every new memory of Nate, and I cry some more. I sleep when I’m exhausted and wake when I’m ready to cry again. With every knock on my door, a new meal is offered. I eat the food. And I do it because I know how much Nate would hate it if I don’t.
I answer Brent’s calls. I let him know that I’m okay, that I’m grieving, and he lets me be.
On the fourth day, there’s a knock on my door, followed by Kyler’s voice. When I open it, he’s leaning against the frame, his hands tucked in his pockets.
“Hi.”
He smiles. “How are you?”
“I’m… better.”
He says, peering inside my apartment, “Yeah, I can see that. No broken plates. It’s a good sign.” He pushes off the frame, stands to full height. “Can I come in?”
With a nod, I open the door wider for him. He settles on the couch, one arm outstretched on the back of it.
“I see you went with option two.”
“I did,” I say, sitting down next to him.
“Actually, I’m glad you did.”
My eyebrows lift. “You are?”
“Yeah.” He runs the back of his fingers along the stubble on his jaw. “It gave me time to think, to process everything.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I straighten my shoulders, ready for the heartbreak to ensue.
He sighs out my name before saying, “There’s nothing wrong with loving two people in one lifetime. People do it all the time. It’s just— it’s a lot harder when you love two people at the same time.”
“Yeah,” I choke out, struggling to fight back the tears.
“I think, with us, we served a purpose in each other’s lives that was otherwise lacking.”
“I don’t see how I did that for you,” I mutter, turning away from him.
“Hey,” he coos. He taps on my arm and waits until I’m looking at him before saying, his smile genuine, “You gave me back my family.”
I allow the tears to fall this time. “You gave me the freedom to love, Kyler, and I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for that.”
The corners of his mouth dip as his eyes narrow. “Did you really love me, or was that—”
“I did,” I cut in. “I do. I swear, I never lied when it came to the way I felt about you. Every interaction we had was authentic, every intimate moment… that was real. At least for m
e. Lies may have led me to you, but what you saw in me—that was the truth.”
He sucks in a breath, his gaze distant now.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
“I don’t know, Bailey,” he says, a heavy sigh escaping him.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” I croak.
His lips thin to a line. “How could you tell?”
“I’ve had so many people leave me, I can sense it.”
“I’m not leaving you. I’m just… I’m leaving the situation.”
“I get it.” I turn away so I can wipe at my eyes without him seeing it. When I face him again, I tell him, “Thank you for not hating me.”
He laughs once. “Thank you for loving me.”
“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Jesus,” he whispers, pulling me into him. He presses his lips to my temple, his strong arms wrapped around me. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”
I pull back, let his arms fall away. “What are you going to do now?”
He chuckles. “My mom—she booked this cruise for three months with a friend of hers, and her friend had to cancel, so…”
The smile that overtakes me fills my heart with warmth. “So you’re going with her?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I think I will.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“After that, I was actually considering going to the police academy.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Jackson misses being a beat cop, so he might go back to that. It would be kind of cool, you know?” he says, his tone kicking up with his excitement. “I’d get to work with him every day. Maybe we could even be partners.”
“That’s great, Ky. I’m happy for you.”
“And what about you?”
I suck in a breath. “I have no idea what’s planned for me,” I tell him, then shrug. “Whatever it is, it can’t get any worse, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
The silence that passes is palpable, and so I get to my feet, giving him an out. He follows suit, and I walk him to the door, open it. “Take care, okay? I’ll miss you.” I hug him one last time, my eyes drifting shut when he returns the embrace. He kisses the top of my head, his hands stroking my back.
When I pull away, he says, “Listen, Bailey…” He takes my hands in both of his. “I don’t know what the feds have planned for you, but my apartment’s going to be empty for three months. If you find yourself not having anywhere to stay, I want you to use it, okay?”
“No.” I shake my head, shrug out of his hold. “It’s fine.”
“Bailey,” he murmurs, cupping my face. His eyes lock on mine. “If what you said earlier was true—about not lying to me, about loving me… maybe when I come back we can try again. You as Bailey, me as… me.” He laughs once. “Maybe it’ll be different next time. Just think about it, okay?”
“Think about what?” Brent asks, appearing behind Kyler.
“Legally changing her name to Madison,” Ky answers. “She can open up her own flower shop one day.” He makes a motion with his hands as if reading a sign. “She can call it Madison Square Garden.” He winks at me, and I watch with bated breath as he enters his apartment, closes the door behind him.
“He’s punny,” Brent says. Then: “Get dressed.”
I trail my gaze to his. “Where are we going?”
“Ashton wants to see us.”
54
BAILEY
When we get to Ashton’s salon, the door’s locked, something Perceval expected since she’d still be grieving the loss of her husband. “So, we can go now?” I ask, discomfort swarming my insides. Why the hell did she invite us here? She’d already said everything she needed to say, especially to me, so—
A door beside the salon opens, and Tiny pops his head out. “Up here!”
Without a word, we follow him up a narrow staircase that leads to four doors. He enters the first one on the left, and the moment I step in behind him, only somewhat using him as a shield from Ashton, the smell of food hits my nostrils. “No Bailey?” Ashton asks.
“She’s hiding,” Tiny informs, pulling me to his side. I lock eyes with Ashton. One second. Two. I look away.
“What is all this?” Perceval asks. “Why are we meeting in your apartment, and are they—”
“Tacos,” Ashton finishes for him.
Then Tiny, rubbing his hands together: “Sweet, sweet tacos.”
I glance around the living room, Nate’s living room. Everything in here looks new, almost untouched. And there are picture frames everywhere, on almost every surface. Every single one of them of Ashton and him. Together. Smiling. Loving freely.
“It’s all for show,” Ashton says, handing me a plate. “For when we have visitors, you know? It wasn’t real, at least not when they were taken.”
Perceval clears his throat, and all eyes go to him. “I appreciate the hospitality, but I—”
“I’d suggested a taco night to Nate right before he… he passed, and he thought it would be perfect, so I…” She blows out a heavy breath. “I’m um…” She looks away, her head tilting back to keep the tears at bay. “I’m having a difficult time processing this,” she chokes out. “And I thought… I just wanted to be around people who knew him outside of The Family. And I know this might be weird—”
“It’s not,” Brent offers. “It’s fine. I love tacos.” He proves this by taking a bite out of one.
“I heard Nathaniel’s service was today,” Perceval says, and I stop my gasp just in time.
“It was,” Ashton responds. “It was small. You can’t have a bunch of drug dealers and whatnot all in the same place at the same time. That would make your job easy.” Even in her state of mourning, I can’t help but be jealous of Ashton’s beauty.
“Was your dad there?” Perceval asks, and I scoff. Of course he asked that. As far as I’m aware, Benny’s still “missing.”
Ashton ignores his question and looks over at me. “Are you going to eat that?”
I look down at the plate. “I um…”
“I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you think.”
“No!” I swallow. Hard. “I’m sorry, that’s not—”
“No,” Ashton sighs. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head.
“It’s hard to be around you, Bailey,” she admits. “But I don’t want it to be. And I’m sorry for what I said to you at the hospital. I was upset, obviously, but that doesn’t excuse how I treated you. I was out of line, and I apologize.”
“It’s okay,” I croak.
She flops down on the couch. “There’s just a lot going on right now, and I’m kind of all over the place.”
I sit on the couch opposite her and set the plate on my lap. I remember Ky’s words from earlier: There’s nothing wrong with loving two people in one lifetime. And Nate—he loved us both. And so I find the courage to do something I know would make him proud. I build a bridge. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry, Ashton. Hopefully, they’ll find him soon.”
Ashton stares at me, right into me. Then she blinks once. Twice. She glances at Tiny quickly, before motioning to the couch beneath me. “You should take a seat, agents.”
Without a word, both Perceval and Brent sit beside me, one on each side. I chance a peek at Tiny, but he’s too busy stuffing his face with tacos. Meanwhile, Ashton gets more comfortable, tucking her short legs beneath her. “My dad wasn’t always nice to me. I guess I shouldn’t have expected a lot, considering I grew up watching the way he treated my mother.” She pauses a beat. “The first time I remember meeting Nate was at her funeral. I was eight years old. He was ten. I had heart-eyes the moment I saw him, but…” She smiles at the memory, but it disappears quickly. “The next time I saw him was at his mother’s funeral. We never really spoke to each other. All the business our dads did was behind closed doors. It wasn’t meant for children’s eyes or ears. At least not mine.” She shrugs. “I’m a girl, and g
irls have no place in men’s business. That’s what my dad used to always say.”
The agents and I sit, our backs straight, enthralled in every word she has to say, not just because it’s going to lead somewhere, but for me—I’m getting a part of Nate I never knew.
“Over the years, we got to know each a little bit more. When Nate’s dad died, he would spend a lot of time at our house. My dad became his legal guardian. Nate was only sixteen, and he didn’t much like living in that house all alone. Plus, the memories, you know?”
I’m not sure what the agents know, so I keep quiet, nod in response.
“At the beginning, Nate looked up to him. He thought my dad was a god amongst men but… my dad wasn’t a good dad. He wasn’t even a good man. From the time I can remember, he used to sneak into my room at night—”
“Jesus,” Brent murmurs.
“No,” Ashton’s quick to respond. “Not for anything like that. He’d just… he’d have this secret spot under the floorboards of my bedroom. He’d always come in and put something in there. I’d pretend to be asleep because I didn’t want to get in trouble. But when I was around twelve, I questioned him about it. He had no idea that I knew, and so he made me change rooms—to one on the other side of the house. He kept my old bedroom locked from then on. Which is why…”
Tiny gets up mid-chew and sits next to Ashton, his hand holding hers. “You can do it,” he whispers loud enough for us to hear.
Ashton nods at him, her eyes welling with tears. She sucks in a breath, squares her shoulders before continuing, “Which is why, a few weeks after I’d switched rooms, when Dante Franco was the one to open my door in the middle of the night, I thought it was a mistake… but it wasn’t.” She releases a sob, and instinctively, I go to her, put my arm around her shoulders. “The first time he raped me, he covered my mouth with his hand,” she cries. “He said that if I ever told anyone, he’d kill me. And he kept those threats going for over a year.”
“Ashton, I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“The only reason the threats stopped is because my dad walked in on it once. He opened the door, saw what was happening, and then he closed the door, and just walked away as if nothing...”
