The sterile smell of antiseptic and the muted green walls make my body ache with the urge to run. If they pull out a syringe or a tie down . . . I can’t. I have to get out of here.
The nurse replaces the IV with a cotton ball and a strip of tape. “Georgia can—”
“That’s not my name.” My cheeks heat at my reflexive reaction. But it’s true.
Georgia’s dead. I’m Mac.
A tendril of red hair falls into my eyes. Slowly, I pull at the bright locks and loop them around my finger. Visions of my fight with Rex flash before my eyes. I suck in a breath and a whimper pushes up my throat.
I left Vegas. Mac’s dead.
The bar, Hatchet, the Motorcycle Club. Oh my God, the drugs. My breath picks up its pace to match my racing heart. Hatch left. I was so sick and . . .
I died. Annie died on Hatch’s bed.
The nurse swings her gaze to Rex, questioning, then looks back at me. “Honey, do you remember your name? Can you tell us who you are?”
“I’m not that girl.” Georgia, Mac, Annie, none of them. “I’m not.” I shake my head, earning another sympathetic look from the nurse.
If I’m not them, who am I?
Rex clears his throat. “Would it be all right if we have a minute alone?”
The nurse’s eyes snap to Rex, wide with surprise.
“All the people in here are making her uncomfortable. She’s been through a lot, and I need to make sure she’s okay.”
They stare at him, hands frozen mid-task. One of them, a tall brunette with kind eyes, steps up to the monitor at my bedside. “Her vitals look good. We can come back later and run some tests.” She nods to the others, and they all file out of the room.
At the sound of the door shutting behind them, my lungs release their death grip and I take a full breath. “I want to go ho—um . . .” I don’t have a home.
His hand, warm and comforting, cups my jaw. I gaze up into his soft blue eyes, so clear I notice right away the old shadows that used to be there are gone.
“Fuck, baby. I’ve missed your eyes.” He kisses the tip of my nose, further relaxing my tense muscles. “I’m going to take you home. As soon as they give you the okay, we’re out of here.”
Home. Back to Vegas.
I shake my head. “But you kicked me out. I remember, Rex. You said you’d forget me. You called me . . .” Liar. Manipulator. Selfish. The pain of his words thunder in my ears. “Why are you here?”
He looks me in the eyes. “Simple. I was wrong.”
“But—”
“You tried to explain, but I was so wrapped up in the memories.” He sighs long and heavy. “I didn’t handle it the way I should have and I’m so, so sorry.”
“How did you know I was here? Did you talk to Hatch?” A sick swell of hope rises in my chest at the prospect that Hatch is okay, that he sought out Rex for me.
His jaw locks down, eyebrows dropping low over tight glaring eyes. “No. Hatch is gone, but thankfully the tubby fuck had enough sense to spill his guts to Trix before he disappeared.”
My head spins with information, piecing together everything he’s telling me. The only thing that I can grab on to is that Rex wants to take me home to Vegas. The details about the rest can be figured out later.
I pull the hospital blanket up to my chin with shaking hands. “I just . . . I want to get out of here.”
“I want to get you out of here.” He cups my cheek and tilts my face up. “I know why you’re afraid of hospitals.”
“You do?”
His thumb glides along my lower lip, the touch so gentle and full of meaning it drops my eyelids. “Yeah, apparently Dominick kept impeccable records of the lives he ruined. Raven inherited all his shit. She’s hell bent on righting his wrongs and remembered your name.”
“How?”
“In a file from Ridley Mental Institution, there was a picture in there from the day you were checked in.” He squeezes my hand. “That picture . . . I knew right away it was you.”
My pulse races; fear that he thinks I’m a certifiable lunatic claws at me. “I’m not crazy.”
Sympathetic eyes find mine. “Yeah, I know. I want to know how you ended up there, but those details can wait. First, we need to focus on getting you cleared for discharge. Problem is, baby, they’re not going to let you leave if you can’t tell them your name.”
“Right.” I messed up. I should’ve just answered to Georgia.
“Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
I shake my head. “I can’t tell them. Doctors don’t understand.” I lean in to whisper. “They call me crazy, but they don’t know what it’s like.”
“Explain it to me.”
“I was born Georgia McIntyre, but then”—I tilt my head and stare into his eyes—“you died. She died with you.”
He turns away and the muscle in his jaw ticks.
“In the institution, they called me by my last name. I was McIntyre. I escaped into the simplicity of Mac. She was focused on revenge and she gave me a purpose.”
“Revenge against Morretti.”
“Yes. My parents worked for him and when they ran—”
“Ran from the cops? Why’d they call them in the first place?”
“They didn’t.” My mind races back to that night, the fear of my punishment was nothing compared to the agony of watching him die. “I called 911.”
He sucks back a quick breath. “You called?”
I shrug, not ready to hear the gratitude in his voice. “After the ambulance took you away, my parents panicked. They thought you’d talk, and it wasn’t jail they were afraid of. It was Dominick. They ran.”
“What about you? Who took care of you?”
I pick at the hem of my hospital gown. This was the story I’d begged him to give me a chance to tell before he gave up on me. Will he understand if I tell him now?
“They locked me in the closet. I don’t know how long I’d been in there before Dominick got me out.” I thought he was there to save me. Wrong. “He said my parents were dead and he was my legal guardian. I screamed that he needed to help me, told him what they’d done to you, but he said I was crazy. He’s the one who locked me up in the institution.” The helplessness comes rushing back, screaming the truth until I’d lose my voice or they’d strap me down and shove a needle in my arm.
“Son of a bitch!” His body tenses against mine. “How did you get out?”
“I turned eighteen, realized that I’d never be free unless I played their game. I told them I was lying, that I was an angry kid because my parents abandoned me. In time, I convinced them I was sane enough for release. I went looking for Dominick. Found out he owned a strip club in Vegas. By the time I got close enough, I was too late.”
“He was dead.”
“That’s right.”
“And that was the peace you were looking for. Revenge.”
“No.” I hold his stare. “That was you I was looking for. You’re my peace.”
“And you’re mine.” His eyes glisten as if he’s fighting tears. “I just . . . I didn’t realize it until after I lost you.”
“Are you saying . . .?” Can I even bring my lips to speak the words? “You want me?”
He can’t be. It’s too good, and good is something I’m not entitled to.
He cups my cheeks between his big hands and runs his lips along mine. “What I’m saying is”—his forehead rests against mine—“I love you.”
I suck in a breath, trying to hold it along with this moment. Hot tears mark trails down my cheeks. Please be real.
“Breathe, baby.” He wipes away my tears with his thumbs and kisses the corners of my mouth. He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it to rest on the back of his neck. “I know I’ve got some making up to do.” He turns on the bed to face me head on and takes both of my hands in his. “All I want to know is that there’s a chance.”
My lips twitch at the way he uses my own words, from th
e night we made love, against me. “You have more than a chance, Rex. You have me. You always have and nothing will ever change that.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“It’s not about deserving. It’s about fate. I was put on this earth to love you. Deep down to the core of my soul I’ve always known it. There may be someone else for you, but you’ve always been it for me.”
He plants his head in my lap, his arms moving around my waist. I sift my fingers through his hair while he holds on to me like a life raft. Minutes pass in silence as we cling to each other.
On instinct, I hum the familiar melody of “Silent Night.” His arms convulse around me. With every repeated verse, a tiny bit of life returns to a part of me I’d long forgotten.
The girl who set eyes on a young boy and knew he’d own her heart forever sings from the dark part of my soul, reminding me that there’s hope. And maybe with time our love could raise her from the dead.
Twenty-seven
The dark is no place to plant a seed.
Yet with our hands in the ground, we give in to our need.
Digging through the shit we can’t stand to face.
Learned the hard way that our past can’t be erased.
--Ataxia
Rex
Living with Hatch.
Property of Hatch.
All so she could feel taken care of or self-destruct.
All because of me.
Shit. I thought my problems ended at dealing with my past. I was wrong. She explained on the plane ride back to Vegas that she had nowhere else to go and that all she wanted was to feel safe. I can’t help but think that I made her feel as desperate as I felt living in that basement. She was alone, willing to give whatever she had to offer to feel accepted, taken care of. The thought makes me sick.
She gave herself over to a scumbag like Hatchet, hoping to heal the wounds I’d inflicted. And he let her. He had to know how upset and desperate she was. He took advantage of her; he was no better than those sick bastards who visited me as a kid.
She said more, but I don’t remember because I was too busy planning the thousand different ways I was going to torture Hatch the next time I see the tubby fuck. Her insistence that he saved her, protected her from dudes who’d have taken advantage of her, only pisses me off more. Brainwashing motherfucker.
We took a cab from the airport. Other than Raven and Jonah, who were there the day she woke up, she didn’t want anyone to know she was back. A lot has happened and she needs a few days to recoup before all the women descend.
“Rex, I don’t think this is a good idea.” She’s standing in the doorway to my condo, her arms crossed at her chest. “I’m sure I can stay with Trix.”
Wearing gray sweatpants the same color of her eyes and a tight black thermal shirt that offsets the bright red locks of her shoulder-length hair, she’s a damn knockout. We haven’t been alone for more than an hour since she came out of a coma. I told myself that I’d keep my hands off her until she’s ready, but it’s taken every bit of strength I have not to strip her naked and worship every inch of her body.
I drop the small bag of our stuff just inside and turn to pull her into my arms. “We’ve been over this. Trix has a roommate now and you need rest.” I kiss the top of her head. “And if I haven’t already made it clear, here’s clear-er.” I pull back and cup her face, tilting it to look at me. “I’m never losing you again. I want to feel you breathing against me when I sleep as a constant reminder that you’re here, alive, and mine. Dating isn’t enough, baby. I want more, and unless you have a really, really fucking good reason why you don’t want that, it’s not up for discussion.”
Her body relaxes in my hold. “I know this has to be so hard for you. I don’t want to cause you any stress.”
She’s always thinking of me before herself. I pull back and meet her eyes. “You’d be surprised how far I’ve come since you left.” With her hand in mine, I move inside the condo and shut the door.
She stops in the foyer, and I turn to find her slipping off her shoes.
“Leave them on. I’m okay.”
Her eyes go wide. “Really?”
It’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but after my memories came flooding back, I’ve been working to overcome my compulsions. Daily breakthroughs and praises from Darren are all things I can’t wait to tell her, but now isn’t the time. She’s spooked and I can’t lose her, so I’ll slam the door on that convo and concentrate on making her at home.
I ignore her question and bring her to my bed at the far end of the room. “Lie down. I’ll order some food.”
“Rex, you don’t have to take care of me. I’m fine.”
I sift my fingers through her hair and notice how it glistens a dozen different shades of orange, so different from Mac’s hair. Even now, it’s hard to join the two women. Both are strong in their own ways, but Mac had a carefree attitude about life that I don’t see in the gray eyes I’m lost in now. Will she ever be that way again?
“Gia . . .”
She cringes and drops her chin.
I kiss her forehead and catch her eyes. “What do you want me to call you?”
“I like it when you call me baby.”
“Yeah.” I run my lips along hers and the gentle hitch of her breath sends a wave of arousal through my body. “I like callin’ you baby, but everyone else knows you as Mac.” I slide my hands around her body and dip them down to rest on her ass. “Who do you wanna be?” I kiss a path down her neck, and she drops her head to the side on a moan.
“I want to be yours.” Goose bumps race across the tender skin of her neck.
“Mmm you got that, baby.” I squeeze two fists-full of her backside and hold back the urge to push her back onto the bed and climb between her legs.
I haven’t felt like this since the last time we were together before she left: consumed by her to the point that everything else fades and all that’s left is us.
She pushes her palms up the front of my sweatshirt, fingers raking along my abs. I tense and roll my hips, grinding my hard-on into the softness of her body.
“I want you.” Her words reverberate in my skull, awakening all the parts of me I thought I’d never feel again.
I cover her mouth with mine and pull at her lower lip. She understands and immediately tilts her head, opening her mouth just enough for me to delve inside. My senses explode at the sweet taste of her mouth. The slick heat of her tongue slides against mine, firing my need to make her mine in every way.
Holding her tight, I walk her toward the bed until the backs of her legs hit and she drops, breaking the kiss. She looks up with lust-fogged eyes and a need I’ve never seen on her before. She’s so fucking sexy it has me fighting the urge to take my dick in my hand.
Unable to keep my hands off her, I trace the line of her jaw to her full lips. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Her one word answer spoken against my fingertips jacks my hips forward.
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing, but I’m not sure I can go another second without being inside you, baby.” I swallow hard, repulsed by my inability to control my desires. She’s been traumatized, and the last thing she needs is me throwing myself all over her.
With her eyes fixed at my waist, she reaches up and unbuckles my belt. I’m helpless and can only watch as she slips the strap from the buckle and pops the button on my pants. Her soft gray eyes peer up at me, and I pull my lip ring between my teeth at the question I see in her eyes. She drops the zipper and dips her hand beneath the elastic of my boxer briefs to free me. Her eyebrows drop low as her fingers tease my newest piercing. She dips her chin to study it closer.
Her breath catches in her throat. “Oh my.” She gazes back up and me. “Why?”
I shrug. “After you left, I wanted a reminder of my vow to never go there again with another woman.”
The pad of her thumb brushes from one end of the barbell to the other sending waves of euphoria shooti
ng up my spine. “So while I was gone, you never . . .?”
“No.”
Her cheeks flush pink and her shoulders slump. “Oh.”
I haven’t asked, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that if she’d been sleeping in Hatch’s bed for six months chances are they were doing a lot more than sleeping. But I know what it feels like to be desperate. I remember needing to feel loved so badly that I’d degrade myself to feel anything remotely close to it. I understand why she did what she did, and in a lot of ways I’m responsible for it. I pushed her to it just like the circumstances of my life pushed me.
“Look at me.”
She blinks up at me, tears shining in her eyes.
“We both have things we’re not proud of, but that doesn’t touch what happens between us.”
“If I could take it back . . .”
“No take backs, baby. I love you. That’s where we stay.”
She inhales a shaky breath, and a ghost of a smile passes her lips. “I love you, too.”
Warmth flutters through my chest and turns to heat at the fire I see in her eyes. She wraps one hand around me in a firm grip and leans in. Softly, she brushes her lips first before swirling her tongue around my piercing. My stomach tumbles, and my pulse rockets through my veins. I fist my hands in her silky red hair, holding her to me. She parts her lips, and my dick disappears inch by inch into her mouth until she can’t take anymore.
“Fucking beautiful. You look so gorgeous takin’ me in.”
A moan of approval vibrates her throat and sends my hips thrusting forward. She braces her hands on my thighs, keeping me still while she sucks me deep.
Less than a year ago these were the things that would drive me to be sick, but with her it’s different. We’re not taking or using but rather sharing in the pleasure together.
Her dark eyelashes lie in contrast to her fair skin. Full dark lips shine with moisture. The visual becomes too much. Afraid if I don’t stop her this will be over way before either of us is ready, I pull away.
Her eyes dart to mine. “Are you okay? Did I—”
“I’m fine.” I try to give her a reassuring smile, but intoxicated with lust it’s hard to pull off. I take a step back. “Stand up.”
Fighting to Forget Page 27
